Armed with not just a sword and an axe, but also the knowledge to effectively use them, Alan dashed towards the goblin horde, killing each one with controlled strength, using his stamina in the most efficient way possible.
'since that huge one came outta nowhere, more must be further back', Alan thought to himself as he added more points to his strength, agility and dexterity.
[Strength:17—21
[Agility:15—24
[Dexterity:17—23
Alan felt like as if invisible weights that had been placed on him fell off as he moved faster, hit harder, and was able to execute kills more seamlessly between the horde while slowly approaching the back of the enemy army.
—————2 hours later—————
Alan was exhausted, mentally and physically as he lay on a hill of corpses. The fight had taken a heavy toll on him as he was bandaging his wrist with a white cloth that had minor healing effects to ease the strain on his wrists from all the slashing and killing. His clothes were torn in several places, revealing small cuts and deep gashes all over his back, ribs and some on his legs.
"Cost me more than i initially thought. Heh", Alan chuckled to himself, dismissing it almost immediately as he stood upright, pointing his sword at five figures a few yards away from him.
"What are you bastards waiting for, let's fight to the death", alan said as the figures slowly stepped out from behind the large oak trees, revealing goblins that resembled humans but still had a green skin, yellow eyes, malicious intent and cunning intelligence.
"Wow. You still have the strength to talk. Fascinating." The tall goblin with glasses remarked, commending his tenacity even against the odds.
'there's a total of five; one wearing glasses, one with a spear, one with a sword, and two huge ones with shields. This won't be easy.', Alan thought to himself, smirking. 'but if i add a few more points to agility and strength, maybe i coul make it work.' Alan concluded internally as he opened his status panel
——————————
[Name: Alan
[Age: 16
[Race: human
[Class: Prismarix
[Element: light
[Sub element:none
[Affiliation:???'s host (locked)
[Rank:D (NEW!)
[Status:Mana core 5% active
[NEW!][Skills: Photomimic, Light pulse
>>>Attributes
[Strength:45
[Agility:47
[Toughness:46
[Constitution:46
[Dexterity:49
[Perception:47
[Luck;12
>>>Resources
Vitality:195/400
Stamina:200/200
Mana:350/350
>>>Equipment
Worn iron shortsword(durability;<4%)
Light torso armor(<10%)
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" whoa, my rank increased from F to D, and i have a skill named Light pulse. Not sure what Photomimic means ", Alan said, frustration slowly appearing in his voice as each answer led to more questions like 'why am I here?, what do i do to get outta here?, why the heck am i in the middle of nowhere fighting humanoid goblins?....'
"Hey, if you're gonna think atleast don't keep us waiting, some of us have lives you know.", the goblin with the spear said, irritation visible in his tone.
"Well he won't have a life after this, so atleast giving him sometime to organize his inner self won't hurt right?", the one with glasses said with a smug grin on his face.
"Well I've made my decision".
"Huh-
"You're all gonna die.... And I'm gonna make sure of that.", Alan concluded, a hint of finality in his voice indicating no room for negotiation, not like the latter wanted any to begin with.
Across from him stood five visibly coordinated enemies, which seemed deeply unsettling. Goblins become dangerous the moment they stop behaving like monsters and start behaving like soldiers.
Front line:
Two brutes carrying broad shields built from layered wood and metal scraps. Large enough to absorb force. Heavy enough to create space.
Behind them:
A spear user.
Long reach. Calm posture.
To the side:
A sword goblin.
Light on its feet. Not stronger than the others. More dangerous.
And standing slightly behind all of them:
A goblin wearing glasses.
Small frame.
No visible weapon, no visible mana, no actual threat likeliness. Or so alan thought.
He drew out his d rank weapon, the gravetide blade, the cold black metal having a red tint reflecting the setting sun. His breathing changed.
People think fear appears as shaking. It doesn't, Fear narrows decisions to the most seemingly reasonable scenario available on the board, Alan measured the distance between himself and the oppenents.
Shield users first.That made sense, seemed like the most logical decision in this type of scenario. First mistake.
The brutes moved. Not charged. Moved. Shields raised. Slow, but in a controlled manner.
That was the moment Alan realized something, these goblins had drilled formations. He rushed into the formation, trying to scatter it. Second mistake.
The first shield goblin crashed forward, not to hit, but to obscure vision. His vision disappeared behind rough wood, shield two followed immediately.
*BAM**CRASH*
His feet left the ground, he hit dirt. Before he could recover—
The spear came. Not lethal, deliberately shallow, across the ribs. Testing. Measuring reaction. Alan rolled backward, putting a bit of distance between them.
The sword goblin dashed quickly, closing the distance. Three strikes. Head, Shoulder, Leg. Not killing blows, but an attempt to force defense.
His sword blocked one, dodged one. The third cut deep into his right thigh. He winced at the sting. The sword goblin smirked at his reaction. Then he came to realize something disturbing.
' They aren't fighting me, they're toying with me!!! ', he growled, glancing down at his compromised leg.
His stamina started dropping, fast. Not because of injury, because average fighters spend energy recovering mistakes. He retreated, the brutes advanced, the spear stayed behind, the sword circled. The goblin with glasses watched, still motionless, still observing.
With a growl, he finally committed. He rushed the sword goblin. Correct target. Wrong timing. The brutes shifted, matching his momentum, the Spear goblin extended, as if stalling his movement for something...
Then—
*PIERCE*
For a second he didn't understand.
His body did.
His right shoulder exploded with heat!!!
Slowly, he looked down. An arrow, buried deep. Not center mass, not fatal, but intentional. His balance collapsed. His sword slipped from his grasp. No sound from the trees. No movement. Just one arrow.
Good archers do not announce themselves. The battlefield changed instantly. Five visible enemies became six threats. His attention fractured. His survival odds dropped greatly upon realizing that.
Alan backed away. The sword goblin stopped advancing, the spear lowered, even the brutes paused, not because they respected him, it was because the arrow had changed command priority.
The goblin with glasses adjusted its frames. Then spoke. Cleanly. No growling. No broken language. Just one sentence.
"Range confirmed. Continue."
Alan froze. Not because the goblin talked. It was because nobody else looked surprised. The glasses had never been decoration, the arrow had never been support. This entire formation had been built around information. The supplier unknown, he had walked into a coordinated kill zone.
His shoulder bled, his stamina was dropping, his enemies were untouched.
And for the first time since he entered this world—
He stopped thinking about winning, and started thinking about surviving.