Dawn broke gray and cold over Millbrook as Ren prepared for what he knew would be the most dangerous contract of his career—not because of the goblins, but because of the scrutiny he'd be under.
Derek had assembled quite the audience. In addition to his usual two companions—Marcus the Beast Tamer and Elena the Water Mage—he'd invited several other C-rank adventurers to "observe the training exercise." Even Guild Master Aldric had decided to attend, claiming interest in evaluating F-rank development programs.
"Nervous?" Vermillion asked quietly as they gathered at the guild's entrance.
"Should be," Ren replied, checking his gear one final time. His sword was the same battered blade he'd carried for weeks, his armor still bore the carefully maintained appearance of budget equipment, and his magical focus—a simple crystal pendant—looked appropriately underwhelming.
"Remember," Derek announced to the assembled group, "this is a learning exercise. Ren will take point to demonstrate his combat capabilities, while we provide tactical support and safety oversight."
The way he emphasized 'safety oversight' made it clear that Derek expected to be doing a lot of intervening when the inexperienced F-rank got in over his head.
The journey to the goblin territory took two hours through increasingly dense forest. Derek kept up a running commentary about goblin tactics, pack behavior, and the importance of not underestimating E-rank threats—all directed at Ren with the condescending tone of a teacher addressing a particularly slow student.
"The key thing to remember," Derek said as they approached the rocky outcropping that housed the goblin nest, "is that goblins are cowardly individually but dangerous in groups. They'll try to overwhelm you with numbers while their strongest members hang back to exploit any openings."
"I understand," Ren said patiently.
"Do you?" Derek's smile was sharp. "Because theoretical understanding and practical application are very different things. In actual combat, F-rank adventurers often freeze up or make tactical errors that get them killed."
The goblin nest was built into a series of natural caves, with crude wooden fortifications extending the defensive perimeter. Even from a distance, they could see movement—lean green forms scurrying between cover, the glint of crude weapons, and the occasional guttural shout in the goblins' harsh language.
"Standard approach," Derek continued his lecture. "Identify the chief's location, eliminate the sentries quietly, then assault the main force before they can organize properly."
"What about prisoners?" Ren asked. "Sometimes goblins keep captives."
Derek looked momentarily surprised by the tactical question. "Good thinking. We'll need to account for potential hostages during the assault." He gestured to his team. "Elena, Marcus, you're with me on overwatch. We'll position ourselves to intervene if things go badly."
The unspoken message was clear: when things go badly, because Derek fully expected the F-rank to be overwhelmed within minutes.
"Guild Master," Derek addressed Aldric, "you might want to maintain some distance. F-rank combat can be... unpredictable."
Aldric nodded but didn't move back as far as Derek had suggested. The Guild Master's sharp eyes were focused intently on Ren, and there was something calculating in his expression that made Ren uncomfortable.
"Whenever you're ready," Derek said with false encouragement.
Ren drew his sword and began approaching the goblin fortifications. His enhanced senses immediately picked up details that a normal F-rank would miss—the exact positions of the sentries, the weak points in their defenses, the location of what was probably the chief's dwelling deeper in the cave system.
The first challenge was making his approach look clumsy enough to be believable while still being effective enough to succeed. He stumbled occasionally, made noise at seemingly random intervals, and generally projected the image of someone trying their best with limited skill.
The first goblin sentry never saw him coming, despite Ren's apparently bumbling approach. A quick strike to the throat dropped the creature silently, but Ren made sure to look surprised by his own success.
"Lucky," Derek murmured to his companions, though his tone suggested he was already suspicious.
The second sentry proved more challenging—not because it was harder to kill, but because Ren had to make the fight look difficult while still winning quickly enough to avoid raising an alarm. He let the goblin's crude spear scrape along his armor, grunted appropriately during their brief struggle, and only landed his killing blow after what appeared to be a desperate gamble.
"He's better than expected," Elena observed quietly.
"Or luckier," Derek replied, but his eyes never left Ren's form.
The main assault began when Ren reached the fortified entrance to the cave system. A dozen goblins poured out to meet him, armed with rusty weapons and shrieking their battle cries.
This was the crucial test. A real F-rank would be overwhelmed immediately by such numbers. Ren had to find a way to win while making it look like he was barely surviving.
He fought desperately, letting the goblins drive him back, taking hits on his armor that would have been devastating if his draconic constitution wasn't protecting him. His sword work appeared clumsy, his footwork looked amateur, and his magical flame bursts seemed more like panic responses than calculated tactics.
But somehow, impossibly, he was winning.
One by one, the goblins fell to strikes that looked lucky but were actually precisely placed. His flame magic, while appearing erratic, consistently caught multiple enemies at once. His defensive positioning, though it seemed accidental, perfectly channeled his opponents into disadvantageous angles.
"This is impossible," Derek breathed, watching an F-rank adventurer systematically dismantle a force that should have killed him three times over.
The climax came when the Hobgoblin chief emerged from the caves—a hulking brute nearly seven feet tall, armed with a massive club and radiating the magical aura of a low D-rank monster.
"That's enough!" Derek shouted, starting to move forward. "Ren, fall back! That's beyond F-rank capability!"
But Ren was already engaged, his sword locked against the chief's club in a contest of strength that he should have lost instantly. Instead, the two fighters strained against each other while the watching adventurers held their breath.
The Hobgoblin was strong, but Ren was stronger. The problem was making his victory look plausible.
The solution came when he spotted a loose rock outcropping above the chief's position. With careful maneuvering that looked like desperate dodging, Ren positioned himself correctly and unleashed a flame burst that appeared to miss its target entirely.
Instead, the fire struck the rock face, causing a small avalanche that stunned the Hobgoblin long enough for Ren to land what appeared to be an incredibly lucky killing blow.
Silence fell over the battlefield as the last goblin corpse hit the ground.
"Twenty-three goblins," Aldric said quietly, having counted throughout the engagement. "Including a Hobgoblin chief. Handled solo by an F-rank adventurer in under fifteen minutes."
Derek's face had gone pale. "It's not possible. No F-rank flame mage has that kind of combat capability. The magical output alone should have exhausted him after the first few spells."
All eyes turned to Ren, who was breathing heavily and looking appropriately exhausted despite feeling like he'd barely warmed up.
"I got lucky," he said, using the same explanation that had served him throughout his career. "The rock fall, catching them bunched together, managing to stay mobile. Sometimes everything just... works out."
"Luck," Derek repeated flatly. "You're claiming that was all luck."
"What else could it be?" Ren replied with what he hoped was convincing bewilderment. "I'm F-rank."
But even as he said it, he could see the doubt in every face around him. The performance had been too flawless, too efficient, too impossible for what his classification suggested.
His masquerade was crumbling, and everyone present knew they'd witnessed something that didn't fit into their understanding of how the world worked.
The quiet F-rank adventurer had just done the impossible.
And now he had to live with the consequences.