Cromus felt the fur being ripped from his back, his body tensing as the glow around his head intensified. He straightened, standing tall, and the jaws of the crocodile's head he summoned snapped open, surrounding his own head like a deadly crown.

  The toad's eyes widened in shock as the crocodile jaws slammed shut on it, too fast for it to react. It struggled, clawing at the jaws in a desperate attempt to force them open and escape. But crocodile jaws are nearly impossible to pry open once locked. Cromus grinned, recalling all the animal facts he'd absorbed from videos over the years. ‘Finally, they're useful.’

  Through the glow, he saw Loose Tooth’s small hands moving quickly toward the key ring. The toad's thrashing grew stronger, trying to break free, but Cromus held firm, though the creature's strength lifted him off his feet, at one point.

  Little green fingers wrapped around the ring and with a final yank, Loose Tooth freed the keys, and Cromus’s grin deepened. ‘Time for the death roll.’ He flung his body into a spin, taking the toad with him. They slammed into the cage, the toad’s feet leaving the ground. Dazed, it had no chance to recover. Cromus slammed its head down again, the crocodile’s teeth digging deeper. With a powerful jerk, he slammed it into the side of the cage, then smashed it down one final time. The toad went limp in his grasp.

  Cromus opened the jaws and stood, chest heaving. Loose Tooth quickly rushed over to free his hands.

  "I’ve never seen a Biggin become something like that before," Loose Tooth said in awe. "You're something special—like our shaman!"

  Cromus smiled, his eyes scanning the area as Loose Tooth freed him. "Ok For now, stay hidden. Find anyone who can help us get out of here."

  Loose Tooth gave a sharp nod and dashed out of the cage. Cromus threw the rug over himself, then heard a familiar mechanical hoot. His heart skipped. He turned quickly to see Henry in a small birdcage.

  "Alright, let's get you out of there," Cromus muttered. He grabbed the cage with one hand and the gate with the other. He pulled, bending the bars with ease, but the lock held firm.

  Henry hooted loudly, then pecked at Cromus’s hand.

  “Ow!” Cromus jerked his hand back, irritated. "What the hell, Henry?"

  The owl hooted again and, without hesitation, slipped his foot through the gap Cromus had made. One of his claws flipped downward and back into his foot, a key flipping into its place from the top of his foot. Cromus adjusted the lock, guiding Henry’s foot to insert the makeshift key. With a click, the lock fell and the cage door swung open. Henry let out a triumphant hoot.

  “Why didn’t you do that sooner?” Cromus asked

  Hooting at him, and giving a mean look to Cromus he pointed towards the down Croaker.

  Cromus understood then. “Yeah. Ok you are right. We gotta get out of here but I want to help the rest of them.”

  Henry hooted and flew out and over his head.

  “Hey where are you going?” Cromus asked when after following his flight he saw a smaller Crocker come into view. This one brightly colored, blue with black blotches and holding a bow with arrows. One already knocked and ready to shoot.

  “Shit,” Cromus muttered under his breath.

  The Croaker released the arrow, and instinct kicked in. Cromus leaned forward, the arrow flying over his right shoulder by inches. In a normal situation, he’d be freaking out, but here, his body seemed to move almost without thinking. It was like those childhood games of dodgeball or tag—except now, the ball was an arrow, and the stakes were much higher. A dodge might just save him, but if it didn't... well, the impact would be far worse than a simple sting.

  Cromus ran at the Croaker, as it tried to knock another arrow. He was close enough to see his eyes go wide in fear as the large jaws opened wide.

  Preparing himself for its weight like the bigger one earlier he clamped the mouth over it, teeth digging in, blood erupted lifting his head up with determination before he knew it, he was falling backwards, it being much lighter than he expected. With his back hitting the floor, he felt the air rush out his lungs, the teeth slammed deeper into the croaker. More blood splattered and it stopped moving.

  Gasping for air, Cromus dropped the Croaker, sitting up and raising his arms above his head to help his lungs catch up. But before he could fully recover, something thudded into him. A searing pain shot through his left shoulder.

  YOU HAVE BEEN POISONED!

  Instinctively, he reached for the pain, his fingers brushing something sharp. He opened his eyes and pulled his hand back—an arrowhead was lodged in his shoulder. The realization hit him like a bolt: another Croaker was behind him.

  .

  Cromus flipped to his knees, spinning to face behind him. Sure enough, another Croaker stood there—this one red. He let out a furious yell as his boiling blood racial feat kicked in. His blood surged with heat, a primal fury coursing through him.

  The Croaker aimed and fired, and Cromus barely had time to react. The arrow struck his outer right thigh. The green skull-and-crossbones icon flared up, pulsing larger before shrinking down, with a “x2” flickering beneath it. The pain was intense, but it only stoked his rage further.

  With a roar of defiance, Cromus reached over his shoulder and yanked the arrowhead free. Feathers scraped painfully through his flesh. The sensation was strange, but there was no time to dwell on it. Pain like fire shot through his shoulder, his vision blurring as rage consumed him. All he could see now was the red Croaker, and the fear in its eyes. Its hesitation gave Cromus the opening he needed.

  He charged.

  Using the lessons from his earlier attack, he closed the distance in an instant, and with one swift motion, he clamped his jaws around the Croaker. The creature barely had time to react as he lifted it to the left, then jerked his head to the right, throwing the Croaker to the ground with a bone-shattering thud. It didn’t stir again. Blood poured from the jagged wounds left by his teeth.

  Cromus stood over the fallen body, a grim thought running through his mind. ‘These bowmen are either really weak, or my bite does some serious damage.’ He paused, his eyes scanning the cave. He had pushed deeper inside and was now in the exact place he needed to be.

  A smile crept onto his face as his gaze fell upon the scattered weapons around him. Some were old and battered, their condition poor, but one weapon caught his attention. It was larger than a longsword, but smaller than a greatsword—perfectly balanced. The hilt was crude, wrapped in worn leather, and the quillon was decorated with boar tusks. Two smaller tusks flanked either side of the hilt. The weapon seemed to draw him in, its form clearer than the others in the dim light, as though it were calling to him.

  Cromus reached out, his fingers closing around the hilt.

  Raging Boar. This weapon was forged by an orc smith for his son, who, though smaller than most orcs, overcame his physical limitations through sheer determination. The young orc fought fiercely, earning the respect of his father and his clan. He rose through the ranks until he commanded his own warband, known as the Boars.

  Thanks to your half-orc heritage, you are already proficient with this weapon. As time passes, you will uncover its other hidden properties.

  His smile easily grew again, wind whipped behind his neck. Looking in the direction it came from he saw the croaker he bit and slammed earlier shakily holding his bow.

  Cromus walked over as it tried to load another arrow, reaching out he grabbed and yanked the bow from its hands. It was beaten but. rage continued to grow he felt an urge to finish it, it deserved to die, it put himself, and others in chains. To be sold into slavery. It didn’t deserve to breathe, Blood was needed to pay this debt, not to mention this is not home this is survival of the fittest Gaia understood that this croaker was a hunter that became the hunted, balance dictates it had to die!

  Cromus paused. What are these thoughts running through my head? The realization hit him hard. This croaker was just trying to survive. It was beaten, broken, and terrified. His lip curled into a snarl as he stared down at the trembling creature. The croaker’s eyes widened in fear as Cromus raised the bow high. It ducked its head, lifting its hands in a pathetic attempt to shield itself.

  Without a second thought, Cromus brought the bow down with a powerful swing. There was a sharp crack as it snapped in two. The croaker let out a strangled whine—a noise of pure fear. It blinked, eyes wide, and whimpered as the realization hit. Its jaw dropped, and its hands slowly lowered. It stared at the broken bow, now shattered against the wall beside them.

  Raising Raging Boar to the level of its head, Cromus fixed the croaker with a cold, furious glare. “No more. You attempt anything, or if I see you again after today, your life is forfeit. Do you understand me?” His voice was grating, rough—he tried to keep it steady, but the anger and bloodlust seethed through.

  The croaker sat frozen, mouth agape, eyes wide in terror. Cromus leaned in, his voice rising like thunder. “DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?”

  “Ye... Yes!” The croaker stammered, its voice higher-pitched than any he’d heard from its kind, betraying its fear.

  An alarm blared in Cromus’s mind, and he gasped for breath. A quick glance at his stat bars told him why—his health was below fifty percent. ‘When did that happen?’ His eyes darted to the skull-and-crossbones icon, now flashing.

  He cursed under his breath and immediately cast Minor Heal. His health surged back to 125, costing him 50 mana. As the healing took effect, he allowed himself a brief moment of relief. But before he could even settle, his health began to tick down again—from 125 to 120, then to 115.

  With his heart pounding, he leveled Raging Boar at the croaker, the weapon’s tip sharp and threatening. “Antidote! I’m sure you have one,” he growled, his voice now strained and shaky with rising anger.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  It paused, eyeing Cromus then after he started putting his weapon tip at the croaker's throat it quickly dug into its little pouch in its quiver.

  Pulling out a small vial with a clear liquid in it. Cromus grabbed it, pulled the cork with his teeth and downed it. When he finished it, the croaker was smiling and he saw his times two became times five!

  “YOU SON OF BITCH!” Cromus exclaimed his blood pumping faster. “I just spared you, you little shit and you are still trying to kill me.” He said as he watched his health drop from one fifteen to one hundred.

  It started a deep chuckle. Before Cromus yelled and skewered it with his raging boar. Causing it to cry out in pain before starting to choke on its own blood.

  Dropping it and his sword he started digging in that pouch all the while partially paying attention to his health bar which was now at eighty-five. He found another one of the vials with clear liquid in it as well as one with blue in it. Eyeing his health again seventy. He used identify on the blue vial.

  Antidote for Croaker poison.

  Cromus quickly drank the antidote, watching as his health ticked down one last time to 55. He sighed in relief, standing up and pulling his sword from the croaker’s body. He kicked it a few times, its empty eyes staring into nothingness.

  “That’s what I get for trying to show mercy to a monster like that. Anyone willing to sell another creature into slavery can’t have anything good left in them,” he muttered, frustration boiling over as he delivered one final kick.

  He began casting Minor Heal, his mana draining from 55 to 20 as his health climbed to 90. His shoulders sagged in exhaustion, and he sighed again, Thank Gaia…

  Then, a sharp pain stabbed through his right thigh.

  YOU HAVE BEEN POISONED!!!

  He looked down to see an arrow sticking out of his leg. “SON OF A BITCH!” Turning around he saw a bright green Croaker. Letting out a roar and he started charging at the croaker . The pain of the arrow stinging every step with his right leg.

  The Croaker looked just as shocked as the others had after his roar of frustration. It trembled, fumbling with its bow, unable to load an arrow quickly enough. Who could? How many humanoids had ever seen something like this—a humanoid body with a translucent crocodile head hovering over its own, its mouth opening to reveal another. Most would find it creepy, if not outright terrifying. And not one of these Croakers had shown any sign of magic so far.

  As the Croaker shook in fear, Cromus closed the distance, swinging his new weapon. The blade sliced cleanly from the creature’s left shoulder to its midsection, and its momentum came to a halt as life drained from its eyes. Cromus paused, surprised by how light it felt. Even with the creature impaled on his blade, the weapon remained easy to hold. His gaze shifted to the skull icon again as his health continued to tick down. He quickly rummaged through the quiver’s pouch, pulling out the blue antidote potion. Without hesitation, he drank it, then removed the lifeless body from his sword.

  The worst part about all of this was the realization that, back home, he never really liked people. Now, in a world where humanoids could kill each other without a second thought—just choosing to do it—he wondered what he might become if he just embraced that violence. What would he turn into if he continued down that path?

  At that moment, he made a promise to himself. If he could do better than that, even if it hurt, he would listen to his gut. He knew he couldn’t help everyone, but some things, some actions, were unforgivable.

  A warm sensation filled him, a comforting presence. "Again and again, you prove to me that choosing you as my representative was the right decision. This path you have chosen will not be easy. In fact, in this world, I can only imagine the struggles and pain you will face. But I will help where I can, and I look forward to your growth."

  Cromus felt what could only be described as a kiss on his forehead. A green light enveloped his body, and instantly he was reminded of spring—the world awakening after a long winter. A cool breeze washed over him, carrying the faint scent of freshly bloomed flowers. The sound of birds chirped from the trees, their leaves now full, and the warmth of the sun kissed his exposed skin. It was, in its simplest form, a breath of life. His anger, his pain—everything he had been blocking out in his rage—faded, replaced by a calming sense of peace. And just as quickly as it had come, it was gone, leaving only a lingering calm.

  Looking down, he saw that the arrow had vanished from his leg, the wound healed as if it had never been. His health and mana were fully restored.

  "Wow... Thank you, Gaia."

  There was no verbal reply, but the warm sensation returned, and he felt in his core that it was her answer.

  Now, with a clear mind, Cromus took in his surroundings once more. This was his new world, his new life. A place he'd once only dreamed of. It wasn’t perfect, he knew that. He would have to work for everything he wanted—fight, struggle, and grasp for each moment. But that didn't scare him. He tightened his grip on Raging Boar, feeling the weight of the weapon.

  "This cave is far more complex than I thought," he muttered, turning toward one of the tunnels. A determined look crossed his face. The smaller Croakers had been easy to deal with, but now it was time to remove the slavers. No more of them would come after Sais, Henry, or himself. Once this was over, they'd be free. Plus, the experience gained here would help him grow stronger.

  His thoughts turned to finding where they slept, maybe catching a few of them off guard… but they were interrupted. A sudden pressure filled the air, a chill running down his spine.

  From the darkness ahead, two dark orange eyes met his.

  “The low-born, weak-jawed fake orc... is causing all this trouble?” A voice, low and venomous, echoed through the cavern.

  Sais nocked his bow and aimed at the Croaker perched in a tree. “SAIS!” Henry’s voice echoed in his mind.

  Lowering the bow, he crouched behind the tree. “Henry?! Is everything okay?”

  “Yes and no. Cromus and the goblin he was caged with broke free. He freed me, but there were a couple of Croakers nearby. I started flying toward you to guide you in. He’ll need backup.”

  “Crap. I’ve counted at least four Croakers in trees outside and one by the cave entrance, making regular patrols.”

  “I’ll distract them. You just focus on getting some good shots. I’m immune to their poison, but their arrows still hurt if they land a good one.”

  Before Sais could respond, he heard the hoots of Henry followed by some cries of pain. Peeking out, he saw Henry pecking and clawing at a Croaker by the entrance.

  Sais quickly shifted to the other side of the tree, where the Croaker in the nearby tree began noticing the commotion. It was drawing back its bow when Sais released an arrow, catching it under the chin. The creature fell from the tree, motionless.

  Without slowing, he turned toward another Croaker just a couple trees away. He saw it releasing an arrow at Henry, the sound of metal hitting metal echoing. Sais drew a deep breath and held it, steadying himself before releasing his shot. The arrow hit the Croaker behind the eye, sending it plummeting from the tree.

  Sais heard movement behind him. He dove forward as a thud struck the tree. Coming to his feet, he saw a Croaker brandishing a dagger in one hand, pulling another from a tree just next to him. Its colors were orange and black, and the fact that it wielded daggers surprised him—he hadn’t seen any of the others using melee weapons before.

  “Why is a moon elf here?” the Croaker croaked with its unnatural voice.

  “You took my friends,” Sais replied, keeping his bow drawn.

  The Croaker’s eyes dropped to Sais's bow before returning to his face, narrowing suspiciously. “Friends?” it scoffed.

  With a powerful leap, it launched itself at Sais, its daggers slashing wildly. Sais tried to backpedal but the Croaker stayed on top of him, landing hit after hit. Sais couldn’t fire his bow at such close range; the Croaker was too fast and too close.

  Sais stepped back with his left foot and kicked up with his right, catching the Croaker under the chin and forcing it to back off. Not wasting time, Sais quickly leveled his bow and fired—but the Croaker dodged, its body twisting as it evaded the arrow.

  “It’ll all be over soon,” the Croaker said with a grin. “The cuts I’ve given you are all coated in my poison. Keep moving, and before you know it, you’ll be dead.”

  That gave Sais an idea. Though he was breathing heavily from the close combat, he began swaying slightly, pretending to struggle. He noted his health bar, only twenty points down from the five cuts it had delivered. The poison was doing most of the work, and the Croaker was clearly relying on it.

  Dropping to one knee, Sais gave the illusion of weakness, keeping his eyes locked on the Croaker.

  The Croaker laughed, stepping closer. “I told you, you’re as good as dead.”

  When it was about five feet away, Sais fired his shot. The Croaker cried out in pain—well, what Sais assumed was pain—before stumbling backward and sitting down hard.

  Sais stood quickly, moving just out of reach of the Croaker’s daggers. He took aim again. “Nope, you failed.”

  The Croaker looked confused. “I’m immune,” Sais added, then released the arrow.

  The Croaker’s face twisted in disbelief, and the satisfaction Sais felt when the arrow pierced its skull was beyond words.

  Picking up the Croaker’s daggers, Sais started toward Henry. He now had two daggers in hand when he nocked another arrow. Taking aim, he fired at one of the Croakers charging Henry, hitting it square between the shoulder blades. A second arrow followed, striking the lower back and dropping the creature to the ground.

  Its companion turned toward Sais in shock. “Hi,” Sais said with a grin, then fired again, landing an arrow between the Croaker’s eyes. It collapsed instantly.

  “I don’t want to sound like I’m complaining, but aren’t these guys going down a bit too easily?” Sais asked Henry.

  “Not really. Most Croakers don’t get into combat. They’re not built for it. Even when one gains a class, they’re still not on the same level as a goblin. The bullfrog-looking ones are tougher, but their health pools are still small compared to yours.”

  “I thought I was in bad shape when I came in with only eighty health,” Sais admitted.

  Henry eyed him, then said, “Well, with your class, you have an advantage. Once you choose that path, your level one increases all your stats and abilities. Without your class, you’d probably only have a health pool of ten—or maybe twenty, at most.”

  That shocked Sais. He had thought eighty health was low, but the knowledge that it could be even lower without a class made him realize just how vulnerable normal people would be.

  “So, they’re basically untrained normies who just pick up weapons?” Sais asked.

  Henry nodded. “Yes. They have inherited abilities that give them an edge, so against most races without a class, they can be overwhelming. But even with a class, they’re still able to catch you off guard, as they did.”

  “True, but anything can beat a superior if they have that many advantages and catch them off guard.”

  Henry hooted in agreement, then floated back toward the cave entrance. “Might be best to find Cromus.”

  Sais followed, nocking another arrow as they moved deeper into the cave. It was much larger than he expected, wide enough for four men to walk side by side. The ceiling was easily twice his height, maybe more. Mushrooms and plants grew along the walls. He made a mental note to check them out later, perhaps for herbalism.

  “We’ve got company,” Henry warned, flying back to Sais. “Big Croaker.”

  Sais took aim down the tunnel, releasing an arrow that struck the Croaker in the left shoulder. It let out a cry of pain before shooting out its tongue at Sais. He sidestepped and took another shot, hitting the Croaker in the mouth. It fell backward onto the ground.

  “Well, since we’re on the offensive, this should be mildly easy,” Sais muttered—only to immediately regret the thought. “I probably just jinxed us with that line. Plus, there’s no telling what shape Cromus is in.”

  As they moved deeper, creatures raced past them: fox-like beings, raccoon hybrids, lizard creatures, and several birds—all rushing toward the exit. Sais stepped aside to let them pass, then continued forward.

  They soon found several cages, and Henry pointed out, “This is the last place I saw Cromus.”

  Sais spotted a bullfrog Croaker crawling out of a large cage. Without hesitation, he nocked an arrow and shot it, taking it down before it even realized he was there.

  Suddenly, a small childish green goblin appeared in front of him, holding a dagger and speaking quickly and high pitched, hard for Sais to make out its words.

  “Whoa, can you slow down, I can’t tell what you are saying” Sais said.

  The goblin paused. Before either could speak further, an older voice, deep and tired, answered.

  “Sorry he is young and does not speak well yet, I can interpret.” An older goblin with a makeshift staff appeared, flanked by two younger goblins.

  “Have you seen my friend? He’s a half-orc.”

  The old goblin shook his head. “My youngling here was the one in the cage with him. We can only assume he’s deeper in the cave, likely fighting the creature that’s been keeping us trapped here.”

  “What kind of creature?” Sais asked.

  The old goblin shrugged. “We’ve never seen it. We only know that the Croakers bring it food during feeding time. Must be one of the lucky... or big. Maybe both.”

  “One of the lucky?” Sais asked, confused.

  “Like you and your big friend. One who’s either been chosen or trained by a chosen.”

  Sais’s confusion deepened. Before he could ask more, Henry spoke in his mind.

  “He means someone with a class. And as for ‘chosen,’ that probably refers to Representatives of the gods. Goblins with classes are rare, sometimes going many lifespans without even encountering one.”

  “Why didn’t some of you go help Cromus?” Sais asked.

  “We’re malnourished and weak. What do you expect us to do?” the old goblin snapped, sounding defensive.

  It made sense. Henry had told him that goblins weren’t very strong in this world. Plus, the old goblin was... well, old.

  “Alright, he might need help if the creature is what you say it is. Do you know which way I need to go?”

  The goblins pointed down one of the tunnels. As Sais’s mana drained, a portal opened beside him, and his clockwork defender stepped out without a word. Together, the three of them sprinted down the tunnel.