The tailing was rough from the very first steps.
His body was still weak. His legs pulled with every stride. His aching ribs reminded him of the beating from the day before. The forest did not help: treacherous roots, damp soil, slick stones, low branches. The goblins moved quickly despite their burden, clearly used to the terrain.
Davin stayed behind them, far enough not to be spotted, close enough not to lose them.
The sound of the waterfalls covered part of his steps.
For once, the world seemed determined not to immediately hate him.
After ten minutes, the goblins slowed down.
The young woman was screaming and struggling harder. Her ankle must have struck a root or a stone, because she was no longer putting her foot down properly. One of the monsters growled, raised its fist, and struck her violently across the face.
Her scream broke into a strangled sob.
Davin froze.
Now. Or never.
If they killed her, his plan collapsed.
If they took her farther, he would lose the advantage of surprise.
He took deep breaths to calm the erratic pounding of his heart. His hands were already trembling. He picked up a rough stone from the ground, almost the size of his hand. Heavy. Uneven. Perfect for breaking something fragile.
Like a skull.
I'm really about to attack two monsters with a rock. Very good. Excellent professional development.
He moved forward.
One step.
Then another.
He tried to approach silently, but his tired muscles betrayed him.
A twig snapped beneath his foot.
The closest goblin spun around.
Their eyes met.
CRACK!
Davin did not think.
He brought the stone down on the creature's skull with all his strength. The impact traveled all the way up to his elbow. Dark blood splashed across the rock and his fingers.
The goblin staggered.
CRACK!
The second blow broke something with a wet sound.
The creature collapsed into the violet grass.
Dead.
Davin remained above the body for a fraction of a second.
His stomach lurched.
There. First monster. Zero glory. Far too much texture.
He clenched his teeth and swallowed back the urge to vomit.
The second goblin let out a shrill cry.
It leapt at him.
The creature was barely one meter forty — the size of a child — but its ferocity was very real. Its filthy claws tore through Davin's tunic and raked across his chest. Pain burst across his skin in burning lines.
Davin stepped back, almost tripped, then drove his shoulder forward.
Not a technique.
Not martial arts.
Just the desperate weight of a man who refused to have his stomach opened.
They both fell into the grass.
The goblin snapped its teeth near his face. Its breath reeked of rotten meat. Davin pressed his forearm against the creature's throat and struck with the stone.
Once.
The goblin screamed.
Twice.
Its claws tore into Davin's side.
Three times.
CRACK!
The skull gave way.
The body stiffened, then went limp.
Davin kept pinning it down for another second, panting, unable to tell whether it was dead or about to move again.
Then he dropped the stone.
His hands trembled uncontrollably.
Warm blood ran down his forearms. Blood too thick, almost black, smelling of raw meat left under the sun. His chest burned where the claws had torn through the cloth. Acid bile climbed up his throat.
He swallowed it back.
He remained crouched for a few seconds, eyes fixed on what had once been a face.
This was not like stealing bread.
This was not like taking a beating.
He had just killed.
Directly.
With his hands.
With a rock.
So this is what crossing a line feels like. Shame there's no ceremony. Just blood and an awful smell.
He inhaled deeply.
Once.
Twice.
Then he turned toward the girl.
She was lying near a root, trembling. Her forehead and right cheek were covered in blood from the goblin's blow. Her wide green eyes moved from the corpses to Davin, then from Davin back to the corpses.
She clearly did not know whether she had just been saved or simply transferred to a bigger problem.
Reasonable reflex.
AI, external analysis.
[BEEP. System Message / Analysis in progress…] > TARGET STATUS:Approximate external analysis.Left ankle: probable fracture.Facial contusions.Minor blood loss.Vital prognosis: stable.]
Good. She'll survive long enough to make me useful.
"Thank you…" the young woman breathed. Her voice trembled. "Thank you so much…"
Davin clumsily wiped the blood from his hand against his already ruined tunic.
Useless.
He only spread the grime.
"Let's say I was passing by."
She blinked.
Even in her state, she seemed to understand that no one "passed by" here by chance.
Her gaze slid toward the bloodied stone at his feet.
Then toward the forest.
Then back to him.
"Are you… with the guild?"
"No."
The answer came too quickly.
She grew even paler.
Davin raised one hand, palm open, without stepping closer.
"If I wanted to sell you to those things, I wouldn't have gone through all that trouble to redecorate their skulls."
The young woman let out a nervous laugh that almost sounded like a sob.
"That's… reassuring, I suppose."
Finally, someone who still has a survival instinct.
"Your group is still fighting," Davin said. "Going straight back to them would be stupid. Too many goblins. Too much noise. And your brother looks panicked enough to stab me before asking a question."
Her lips trembled.
"You saw my brother?"
"The idiot in leather armor screaming your name? Hard to miss."
Worry flashed through her eyes.
"His name is…"
She stopped herself, as if giving information to a blood-covered stranger might not be the brightest idea of her day.
Davin noticed the hesitation.
Good.
She was not completely naive.
"Keep his name. I don't need it. For now, we go back to the village. If they survive, they'll return to the guild. If they don't…"
He let the sentence die.
Sylvia understood.
Her face tightened, but she nodded.
"Okay."
Davin glanced at the two corpses at his feet.
He was not going to leave his loot to rot here.
"For the guild bounty, do we need to bring back the whole bodies?"
The young woman stared at him.
This time, disbelief cut through even her fear.
"Did you really just ask that now?"
"Yes."
"I… No. Just the right ear."
She swallowed.
"Take my dagger. In my boot. But give it back afterward."
Davin crouched near her, slowly, so as not to alarm her. She stiffened anyway. He retrieved the dagger tucked into her right boot. A short blade, simple, well maintained. Not a luxury item. A tool.
He methodically cut off the ears of the two goblins.
Sylvia looked away.
Davin, for his part, fought not to vomit.
Two silver coins. One ear per coin. New world, new accounting.
He wrapped the trophies in a strip of cloth torn from his tunic and shoved them into his pocket.
Then he returned to her.
"I'm going to help you walk."
She looked at his clothes, his face, his hands, then inhaled with difficulty.
"You… smell really bad."
Davin remained silent for a second.
"I'm aware."
"Sorry."
"Don't apologize. It's factual information."
Despite the fear, despite the pain, the smallest smile crossed Sylvia's face.
It vanished the moment Davin lifted her by the shoulder.
Her injured ankle brushed the ground.
She smothered a cry.
Davin adjusted his grip.
"Lean on me. Not on your leg."
She obeyed.
As soon as she felt his proximity, she almost immediately pressed her sleeve over her nose.
Davin noticed.
He didn't care.
Almost.
Very good. Save a girl, stink badly enough to become her second trauma. Remarkable progress.
He started moving.
AI, return to the entry point. Alternative route. Avoid the main combat zone.
[BEEP. System Message / Mapping Mode active. Calculating alternative route…]
A pale line overlaid his field of vision, snaking between the trees and around the area where Sylvia's brother was probably still patrolling or panicking.
Without the mapping function, Davin would have had to follow the obvious trail.
With the AI, he could avoid the worst.
Or at least choose a slightly less idiotic version of the worst.
The journey was an ordeal.
With his weak stats and Sylvia's weight, Davin quickly reached his limits. His legs burned. His breathing became irregular. The claw marks on his chest pulled with every movement.
After a few minutes, he had to stop.
He set Sylvia down against a black trunk whose bark glistened with moisture. She caught her breath, pale, fingers clenched in her tawny cloak.
The opportunity was good.
"Your group belongs to the village guild?"
His voice came out calm, almost friendly.
A harmless question.
For someone who had just saved a life.
Sylvia hesitated.
Then answered, still breathless.
"Yes. The Adventurers' Guild. It's the only one here."
"Do you often hunt goblins?"
She shook her head.
"Not like this. We were only supposed to check a trail. Two or three isolated goblins, according to the bounty. Not a whole group. Not… not an ambush."
Her voice cracked slightly on the last word.
Davin studied her face.
She was not stupid.
Just inexperienced.
And alive by chance.
"Their chief," he said. "Your friend mentioned their chief."
Sylvia turned pale.
"Goblins alone are dangerous, but manageable. When there's a chief, they become more organized. They trap, surround, capture. My grandfather always says one goblin is a nuisance, but a group of goblins with a chief becomes a guild problem."
Perfect. Even monsters have a hierarchy. Why am I surprised?
"Your grandfather is an adventurer?"
A fragile pride passed through her eyes.
"An Adept. Old now. He barely hunts anymore. But he taught me the basics."
Adept.
The word settled into a corner of his mind.
Not now.
"At the guild, who treats serious injuries?" Davin asked. "There must be someone."
"Master Kys," she answered. "The deputy chief. He treats insured members."
"Insured?"
"My grandfather paid for me. It's expensive, but when you hunt, it's… necessary."
Davin nodded slowly.
Insurance.
Contractual treatment.
Structured guild.
Internal hierarchy.
Medical resources limited to those who paid.
Magnificent. Even magic has health insurance.
He helped Sylvia stand again.
"We keep going."
She leaned on him without arguing.
On the road back, they crossed paths with two adventurers.
A thin man with a short bow and a woman in red leather armor with an axe at her belt. Both looked at Sylvia, then Davin, then the woods behind them.
They understood quickly enough that there had been injuries.
They did not stop.
The man even looked away.
The woman hesitated for a second, but kept walking.
No one wanted to inherit someone else's problem.
Even when the problem was bleeding.
Even with an injured girl, they barely get involved. This world is charming. Terrifying, but charming.
They took two more breaks.
One so Davin could catch his breath.
One so Sylvia would not vomit from the pain, the fear, or his body odor.
Probably all three.
When they finally reached the forest's edge, the sound of the waterfalls faded behind them. The pale sun bathed the fields in harsh light. The village appeared in the distance, with its wooden walls, uneven roofs, and thin columns of smoke rising into the air.
Davin felt his legs tremble with relief.
He did not show it.
At the village entrance, the guards let them pass without a word.
One of them opened his mouth, probably to insult Davin, then noticed the wounded Sylvia, the blood on her clothes, the claw marks on her escort's chest, and the goblin ears half-visible inside the cloth in his pocket.
He closed his mouth.
Good decision.
They reached the guild.
When Davin pushed open the heavy doors with Sylvia leaning on him, the noise in the great hall did not stop right away. Then the first gazes landed on them. A murmur passed through the tables.
An injured girl.
A beggar covered in blood.
Two goblin ears.
A smell that made existence seem regrettable.
The combination apparently deserved at least some attention.
Davin walked to the counter.
The receptionist from the day before saw him coming, and her face went through several emotions: disgust, irritation, surprise, then a very professional concern when she recognized Sylvia.
"I have an injured—"
"That's enough," a deep voice interrupted. "Leave it to me."
The silence fell faster than Davin expected.
A man had appeared near the staircase.
He wore a long black robe of impeccable cleanliness, cut from heavy fabric that held neither dust nor unnecessary folds. Dark embroidery ran along the sleeves, discreet, almost invisible except when the lamplight touched it. His hair was pulled back, his face calm, his eyes cold.
He did not need to raise his voice.
The hall had already adjusted to his presence.
The loudest adventurers lowered their voices.
Some looked away.
Others watched with almost religious attention.
Davin immediately felt that this man was not on the same level as the others.
Not because of his clothes.
Because of the space the world seemed to leave him.
"She is a member of the guild," the man in the black robe said. "Lay her down. I'll handle it."
Davin obeyed.
Slowly, carefully, he laid Sylvia down on the wooden planks.
AI, record the scene. Maximum priority.
[BEEP. System Message / Recording active.]
The man extended his hand above Sylvia's body.
He spoke under his breath in a language Davin did not understand.
There were not many words.
But the air changed.
A gentle warmth spread around the mage's palm. Then light emerged, yellow, dense, almost liquid. It wrapped around Sylvia like a veil of sunlight. A strange scent rose through the hall: warm rain, cut grass, clean metal.
Davin almost forgot to breathe.
The swollen flesh on Sylvia's face smoothed before his eyes. The dried blood cracked across her skin. The cut on her cheek closed without leaving a visible scar. At her leg, the deformed ankle deflated, then the bones shifted back into place with a dull crack that made several adventurers grimace.
Sylvia drew in a sudden breath.
Not a scream.
A breath of relief.
In less than twenty seconds, her visible injuries had been treated.
As if the forest, the goblins, the fracture, and the blood had been nothing more than a bad parenthesis.
Davin remained motionless.
His pupils dilated.
For one second, the man who had stolen bread, crawled through mud, and killed two monsters with a rock disappeared.
All that remained was a former Earthling standing before the impossible.
Before a law of this world he did not yet understand.
A law that could break bodies.
And repair them.
"That's fucking incredible…"
His voice was barely a breath.
For the first time since his arrival in this cesspit, the cold and cynical analyst gave way to something else.
Not kindness.
Not faith.
Hunger.
Hotter than the hunger in his stomach.
More dangerous too.
I need to learn that.
His fingers slowly closed.
No matter the cost.