The creature’s beady little eyes locked on me, and its snaggle-toothed mouth bared in what I assumed was a wholesome, welcoming, nice-to-see-you grin.
Maybe.
Tell you what, I really wished I’d held onto that knife right about now. I took a slow, cautious step back and held out my empty hands in the universal gesture of ‘I don’t want no trouble here, bud’. Other than being used as wildly antisemitic tropes in surprisingly successful fantasy fiction, goblins weren’t supposed to exist, right?
Mind you, I didn’t think guys were supposed to bounce right back after being double-tapped in the chest, either. So, perhaps I shouldn’t push the ‘this sort of thing isn’t supposed to happen’ button too hard. Especially as this creature had words floating above its head.
[System Alert: Hostile Entity Detected]
Name: Goblin
Level: 3
Disposition: Agitated | Opportunistic
Notable Traits: Quick hands, quicker temper.
Mana Affinity: None
Combat Style: Swarm-and-scramble
“Of course you have a level,” I said to it, still backing up. I wasn’t really sure the best way to react here. I was over twice this thing’s size and, in the normal run of things, didn’t think it would prove too much of a problem.
I might not have brought a weapon with me when I fell through the gramophone into this universe – there’s a sentence no one ever tells you will become part of your life. Or death, I guess - but I’d had years of training which had been pretty thorough as regards to hand-to-hand approaches. I had, however, no real understanding of what ‘swarm-and-scramble’ might mean.
The goblin inched closer towards me, drooling slightly.
I looked again at the words above its head. Level 3. It was that which was giving me my moment of pause. I presumed, having just . . . is ‘integrated’ the right word? Well, whatever. Having just got here, I guessed that made me a Level 1, right? I wondered what sort of imbalance those two levels might mean existed between me and it?
I continued backing away as I tried to think things through. I didn’t want to bet my whole life – well, my second life – on this realm following rules I recognised from playing computer games. However, surely the whole idea of a ‘starter’ area for newbies was that it should provide things to test yourself against in a reasonably ‘no harm, no foul’ environment.
Surely that meant I could take this little guy, right? Right?
Then the goblin stopped a few feet away from me and began sniffing like crazy. Its nose wrinkled as if it had caught the scent of something deeply offensive that shouldn't exist. Then, for no reason I could see, its whole body started blinking red. Literally. Like a Christmas decoration having a panic attack. Its pupils shrank to pinpricks and then its whole face went completely and utterly insane.
Ding.
[Aggro Magnetism – Aura Activated]
Your very presence is an affront to reason.
Enemies within your aura can’t help but notice you. Then fixate. Then froth.
Effect Radius: [Base Range | Upgradable]
Duration: 60 seconds [Upgradable]
Enemies within range are now afflicted with: [Rage – Lvl 1]
Affected targets are overcome with reckless aggression.
- Compulsion: Target prioritises you above all other threats.
- Defence Penalty: -15% to Endurance and Dodge.
- Judgement Impairment: Chance to misapply abilities or spells.
- Duration: 60 seconds or until a critical strike is landed against you.
Note: Some enemies may respond to Rage with increased ferocity.
I stared at the message. Then had to dismiss it very quickly, because an angry Level 3 goblin was all over me like a caffeinated rat on fire.
Instinct took over, and I stepped towards it rather than continuing to fall back. I transferred all my weight into my heel as I stooped and drove forward, causing my shoulder to catch it under its chin with an extremely satisfying crack,which pinwheeled it away. A health bar appeared over its head and over half of it was gone, which was nice.
Bet you just missed out on all that Dodge right out of the gate there didn’t you, mate? And all that missing Endurance? Sucks to be you.
Despite that, though, the goblin came right back at me stupidly fast, swiping wildly with a dagger that had materialised in its hand. Swarm-and-scramble, I guess. It seemed, though, that my Rage debuff was more than doing its job, as the manic little thing wasn’t trying anything remotely clever. It was just berserker charging me in a frenzied blitz assault.
Now, this would probably have been all manner of scary if a) there were far more of it and b) it didn’t weigh about as much as a sausage dog. I caught on of its flailing arms by its wrist, twisted hard and heard something snap. Then I dropped my elbow down with all my considerable weight, catching its arm clean across the joint. Unsurprisingly, this sent its knife spinning away.
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At which point, the bugger bit me. Actually bit me! Right on the forearm. Annoyingly, this switched off the Rage debuff – a critical bite, I guess? - which wobbled its rapidly dropping health bar up a touch and made one appear over my own head.
It looked like that one nip had taken about 10% of my own health, which made me respond in a careful and considered way. By which I mean I began punching it in the face. Repeatedly.
Fair play to it, even after five or six bops like that – during which my health bar refilled to 100% - it kept wriggling like a bag of eels. Turns out Level 3s have got some grunt to them. So, I changed track and scooped its legs out from under it. Then, with very little finesse, I drove it down into the ground like I was getting paid per crater. We’re talking full Undertaker Tombstone levels of destruction.
I thought the world itself shook at the impact and, certainly, something in the goblin’s spine made a sound that wasn’t at all happy with this turn of events. Then I braced a forearm across its throat, and leaned in slow and steady until its neck gave way with a soft, final click.
Ding.
I dismissed the notification without reading it and rolled off the creature’s body, picking up its knife in case it turned out to have been playing possum. I was breathing harder than I might have hoped after that. Maybe Beth had been right that I’d been letting myself get a little soft? My arm was also bleeding quite freely, although the bite marks had vanished.
No such luck for Mr Goblin, though. He remained lying very still. I gave it a few minutes, and then figured that things had settled down enough for me to check out that notification.
[System Message: Loot Acquired]
Item: Tattered Pouch [Common] recovered from Goblin (Lvl 3)
Contents:
- Copper Shards ×6 (Currency)
- Filthy Bandage (Consumable | Infection highly probable)
- Unidentifiable Goblin Snack (Do Not Eat | Seriously)
Inventory space adjusted.
As I read, the pouch practically peeled itself off the goblin’s waist and jumped into my hand where it emptied itself out. The copper shards were dull and uneven, about the size of my fingernails. The bandage looked like it had been used for something other than being a medical aid, and I let the snack fall immediately to the ground where it continued to twitch away.
Still, loot was loot. And a kill was a kill. And a Ding was a Ding.
[System Update: Level Up Achieved]
Progress recorded. Elijah Meddings has advanced.
Threshold Anchor: Unstable
Guardian Authority: Not Detected
Integration: Irregular | Delayed | Loop Error – Retry Later
Abilities Updated:
- Aggro Magnetism – Level 2
Range expanded +5. Duration increased + 2 seconds.
Enemies now more likely to prioritise you regardless of comparative threat.
- Stubborn Constitution – Level 2
Resilience enhanced + 1
You now resist knockback, stagger, and control effects with increased reliability.
[New Skill Acquired]
Skill: Closed Circle (Lvl 1) [Combat | Hand-to-Hand]
You have developed instinctive proficiency in unarmed engagements.
- Bonus to disarming and close-quarters repositioning.
- Increased damage when fighting with fists, elbows, or any improvised weapon currently held with hostility.
[System Advisory: Title Inconsistency Detected]
Title: Warden – status: Pending Recognition
- System privileges temporarily limited.
- Subclass channel: inaccessible.
- Additional Threshold Path abilities: locked.
Manual override by Guardian required.
[Alert: Guardian of the Threshold not found.]
[Alert: You are not cleared to act in the Guardian’s name. Alert].
[Override Permission: ...granted?]
[...granted.]
[Processing…]
[System Annotation: Progress Recognised, Identity Denied]
You have become more than you were.
We are still deciding what, exactly, to do with that.
Carry on.
As I read, I tucked the coins back in the pouch and dropped it into the pocket of my coat, wiping goblin blood off my forearm as I did so.
Level up.
I mean, it seemed that this whole ‘System’ business was going to work along some kind of game logic, but part of me thought the blue boxes were more metaphorical than mechanical. Apparently not. So, let’s think this through.
I’d just taken down something two levels higher than me. In most games, that sort of thing comes with a big XP payout. Easy early levels, then diminishing returns the higher up you go. I figured it’d have to get harder to move things up from here. It’s all fun and fireworks at first, and then suddenly you’re killing twenty boars for two pixels of progress.
Still, I had to admit, gaining whatever this Closed Circle skill was—felt… well, satisfying. And my Aggro Magnetism levelling up? Well, that sounded promising. Or terrifying. Honestly, it could go either way. But, hey, numbers go brrrrrrrrrr, right?
And the System did keep referencing attributes—Endurance, Dodge and all that jazz—which naturally made me wonder: could I see them? I mean, if I had a character sheet somewhere floating in the ether, I wanted to look. Griff would have killed for this sort of insight into where we were all at.
I tried the obvious. “Stats,” I said aloud.
Nothing.
“Character Sheet?”
Nope.
“Open System Menu.”
Nada. Then—Ding.
[System Alert: Input Error]
Access Request: Denied.
User Status: Provisional | Authority Undefined
Warden Title not formally recognised.
Core Parameters: Liminal | Fluctuating
Threshold Anchor: Corrupted or Missing
Guardian Override: [Not Found]
[Warning: Attempting to interface with unstable core identity may cause cognitive drift.]
Well, that was comforting.
I tried again anyway, because I’m nothing if not curious and deeply bad at listening to warnings. “Show me Attributes?”
This time the blue box didn’t even render properly—it jittered into place halfway, flickered like a broken hologram, then vomited what looked like corrupted Latin and several spinning hourglasses. One of them was on fire. That felt like it meant something.
[System Crash Detected]
[Report submitted to: Placeholder_Guardian_000]
[Error: No such advisor exists]
[Reverting to Fail-Safe Display: Veil Imperilled. Alert].
The screen vanished.
“Right,” I said. “So I’m taking that’s a ‘no’ on personal development tracking right now?”
Still, I had the feeling it was all there, somewhere. Just hidden behind whatever metaphysical firewall Aunt M’s absence had left wide open. Or locked shut. It was hard to tell. It looked to me that gaining recognition as a ‘Warden’ would probably loosen the lid on that jam jar a little. Which, considering one of the rewards for my Quest: Survive the Day was ‘Formal system recognition as Warden,’ I guessed it was obvious what I needed to do.
Not like I was that keen on the opposite happening, to be fair.
I tried to ignore the part of me that was already wondering how many more of these things were nearby. Or worse. How many had just seen the big, dozy-looking idiot kill one of their mates.
I really, really hoped Aggro Magnetism had an off switch . . .