Goblin blood. The words hung in the suddenly chilled air, heavy and damning. Sunny froze, caught in the triple beam of their gazes like a nocturnal creature trapped in a hunter's lantern light. His mind raced, trying to formulate an answer.
Before he could stammer out some incoherent explanation, Sys's familiar text box flickered urgently at the edge of his vision.
[Plan B: Play dumb. You're just some poor sod who got turned around. Innocent traveler. Lost lamb act. Don't mention the massacre, genius. Repeat after me: 'Goblins? Are those the little green things? I… I think I ran past something like that? I just got lost…' Lay it on thick!]
Right. Lost. Innocent. He could do that. Maybe. He swallowed hard, trying to make his voice sound less like a terrified croak and more like a bewildered traveler.
"G-Goblin blood?" he echoed, forcing wide, innocent eyes. "Are those… the little green things? I… I saw some movement back there, maybe? Scared me pretty bad. I just ran." He gestured vaguely back into the darkness, trying to look convincingly flustered. "I… I got separated from my… uh… group. Completely lost out here. I smelled your fire…"
The burly man, who Sunny guessed was the leader, exchanged a look with the lean bowman. It wasn't a look of belief. More like shared skepticism. The bowman let out a short, derisive snort.
"Lost?" he drawled, not bothering to hide his disbelief. He paused his knife-sharpening, tapping the whetstone lightly against his palm. "Kid, this stretch of woods barely counts as a forest. More like a thicket between the Grey Hills and the swamp. You'd have to be trying really hard to get properly 'lost' in here."
The burly man nodded slowly, his eyes still fixed on Sunny, sharp and calculating. "Aye, he is right. And folks don't usually get 'separated' looking like they wrestled a whole nest of goblins and won… messily." His gaze lingered pointedly on the dark stains covering Sunny's tunic.
Panic tightened its icy grip around Sunny's chest. They didn't believe him. Of course they didn't. His INT might be 5, but even he could see the holes in his flimsy story.
He opened his mouth to try again, maybe embellish the lie, maybe try honesty – though how could he explain Awakened stats and a sassy AI? – but before he could utter a sound, the red-haired girl spoke.
Her voice, which had sounded so bright and cheerful moments before, was now cold, sharp, and utterly dismissive.
"Oh, just piss off, will you?" she snapped, glaring at him with undisguised annoyance. "We're not running a charity here. Whatever trouble you crawled out of, take it somewhere else. We don't need some blood-soaked stray attracting more trouble."
He stared at her, shocked into silence. The sudden hostility felt like a slap in the face. Just minutes ago, she was laughing, carefree. Now… her eyes held only contempt. Was it the blood? His ragged appearance? Or just the harsh reality of this world filtering through her previously bright demeanor?
The burly man grunted, a sound of agreement. "You heard her. Best move along, kid. We don't share fire with strangers carrying the scent of trouble." He didn't reach for his axe, but his hand rested casually near its hilt. The message was clear.
[Told you. Adventurers aren't your friends. Coin and contracts, remember? You offer neither. Now, cut your losses before they decide you are trouble worth dealing with.]
But the smell of the roasting meat… it was torture. His stomach cramped violently, reminding him of the gnawing emptiness that had driven him here. Desperation clawed its way past the fear and hurt.
"Please," he begged, hating the pathetic tremor in his voice. "Just… just a little food? Anything? I haven't eaten since… I don't even know. I'm starving."
The bowman, stood up smoothly, his movements fluid and dangerous. He wasn't holding his bow now, but a long, wickedly sharp dagger glittered in his hand, catching the firelight. His eyes were like chips of ice.
"Didn't you hear her?" He asked softly, his voice dangerously low. "Or are you deaf as well as stupid?"
Before Sunny could react, the man's wrist flicked. Something silver flashed through the air.
Thwack!
Sunny flinched violently as the dagger embedded itself in the tree trunk right beside his head, the hilt vibrating inches from his face. His heart leaped into his throat, pounding fast and loud. He could feel the phantom sting where the blade had almost grazed his cheek.
"That," bowman said, his voice still quiet but carrying unmistakable menace, "was your final warning. Leave. Now. Before my aim gets better."
The message slammed home with the force of the dagger strike. They weren't going to help. They weren't going to offer food. They saw him as filth, as trouble, as something dangerous to be driven away with threats and cold steel. Just like the vendor. Different world, same story.
A wave of crushing despair washed over him, extinguishing the last embers of hope. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, hot and shameful, blurring the image of the firelit clearing and the hostile faces staring back at him.
He stumbled backward, away from the dagger, away from the fire, away from the smell of food and the chilling rejection. He turned and fled, crashing blindly through the undergrowth, the sound of their low voices fading behind him, swallowed by the indifferent darkness of the woods.
He didn't stop until the firelight was completely gone, until the only sounds were his own ragged breathing and the frantic thumping of his heart. He collapsed at the base of another tree, curling into a tight ball, pressing his face against the damp moss.
Alone again. Rejected again. Worthless. Starving.
The silence stretched, broken only by his quiet, choked sobs. He felt utterly, completely defeated. What was the point? What was the point of surviving the goblins, of Awakening, if this was all that waited for him? Cold shoulders and colder steel? Maybe he should have just let the goblins finish him.
[Hmph. Pathetic.]
Sys's text appeared, but the tone felt… off. Less snarky, more resigned.
[Look, protocol dictates I remain observational. Resource management, non-interference clauses, blah blah blah. Goddess's orders, technically.]
A pause. The text seemed to flicker slightly.
[But protocol also has contingencies for… imminent system host failure due to preventable environmental factors. Like starvation. Which you are rapidly approaching, you emotionally fragile moron.]
Suddenly, a new window overlaid his vision. It wasn't the usual status panel or a quest notification. It was… a map. A rough sketch of the surrounding woods, rendered in soft, glowing lines. Specific areas were highlighted with faint symbols.
[Consider this… a targeted resource allocation analysis. Not direct aid. Just… data.] Sys's text continued, maintaining a thin veneer of detachment. [Those symbols? Potential protein sources. Rabbits, squirrels, maybe some larger, dumber birds. Edible ones. Probably.]
[There are also symbols for areas to avoid. Marked in red. Based on recent energy signatures consistent with… let's just call them 'things significantly more dangerous than level six goblins'. Including whatever left those three-pronged tracks you were so intelligently following earlier. Don't go there. Seriously. You'll die.]
He stared at the glowing map, tears still wet on his cheeks. It showed pathways, streams, highlighted hunting grounds, and marked danger zones. It was… a lifeline. A real, tangible chance.
Sys had broken the rules again. For him.
[Now get up. Stop crying. Start hunting. Your second chance isn't going to serve itself up on a silver platter, especially when the locals prefer throwing daggers at you. Prove you're worth the energy expenditure, Sunny.]
He wiped his eyes on his dirty sleeve, looking from the map back into the darkness. Hunting. With a map. It was still terrifying, still overwhelming. But it wasn't hopeless.
Not completely hopeless, anymore.