I know, I know. There is no shortcut to success. So humans say.
But I'm not human, not anymore, and this isn't some graded exam. This is my life.
I won't do anything wicked or unethical, but I can't afford to play nice anymore.
The undergrowth of the jungle at night is a barrier that should come with a sign: TURN BACK NOW. GO HOME.
However, I'm not alone.
Kasz skulks ahead of me, slipping through the thick veil of greenery with an ease that I wouldn't expect. With goblins, one might predict some slashing, cutting, and breakage. Machetes and bare hands. However, Kasz is a goblin chief, and they're a bit cleverer than the average goblin.
Behind me, Lobo aka Damon follows, scenting the air. [Are we sure about this?]
I grunt, keeping largely silent. [The tournament is six weeks away, and the competition is only sounding fiercer every day.]
Lobo woofs quietly. [You have a point. I still don't like this, but we need every advantage.]
