The group readied themselves after waiting for their resources to refill, then set off toward the Cradlethorn tree. Loose Tooth trailed behind—not far, but just enough that no one really noticed. No one waited for him to catch up. No one even glanced back.

  Not that they needed to.

  Jagz was practically buzzing, bounding ahead like a child who had just been given a new toy, his excitement infectiously loud. Every few paces, he’d flex his new strength, digging his claws into tree bark, leaving jagged lines behind like he needed to see the proof of his power. Ush moved differently now—quieter, sharper. One moment, she was there, the next she was gone, flickering in and out of sight as if testing her new Veilborn abilities.

  They belonged in this world now.

  Cromus, Kaazz, and Sais walked ahead, talking in hushed tones about battle plans. Serious, focused—like real adventurers, like people who had a purpose. Henry flew overhead, keeping a sharp eye on the surroundings, while Athas trotted alongside Cromus, his tail flicking with quiet excitement. The little lizard wasn’t even bonded to them the way Henry was to Sais, but he still belonged more than Loose Tooth did.

  He clenched his jaw. No, that wasn’t fair. It wasn’t like they were leaving him out on purpose. They just… they had more important things to worry about. Cromus had his mission. Sais was the strategist. Kaazz had his new magic. And Jagz and Ush? They had everything now—strength, speed, something to prove.

  He was happy for them.

  He really, truly was.

  But the more he told himself that, the more bitter the words felt in his mind.

  Because he was still the same.

  No power. No new class. No purpose.

  Just Loose Tooth.

  A useless, scrawny goblin. The one who froze when it mattered. The one who didn’t get chosen. The one who stood in the back, pretending to be part of something, pretending it didn’t eat him alive inside.

  His fingers curled into fists. His nails bit into his palms, but he welcomed the sting.

  If he didn’t change something soon… he was going to be left behind.

  For good.

  During his tangled thoughts, Loose Tooth didn’t realize how much he had drifted until he bumped into Cromus’s leg, nearly bouncing off him like a clumsy whelp. He let out an embarrassing noise—somewhere between a grunt and a squeak—before scrambling back.

  Cromus glanced down, raising a brow. “You okay, buddy?”

  Loose Tooth swallowed the sharp lump in his throat. “Yeah. Sorry.”

  Cromus didn’t look convinced. He hesitated, as if he wanted to press further, but then let it go. Instead, he turned back to the others, gathering them together.

  “Alright, so we’re going to let Ush and Jagz take the lead,” Cromus said, his voice steady and confident. “They need to test out their abilities in a real fight. Sais, Loose, and I will stay back. Kaazz will be ready to step in if needed. If things go south, we’ll all jump in. Shouldn’t be too hard to lure some of them away from the tree. They’re aggressive enough.”

  Loose Tooth blinked.

  Stay back.

  His stomach twisted, an uncomfortable heat creeping up his neck. He barely heard the rest of what Cromus was saying. His hands clenched at his sides, fingers curling so tightly they ached.

  He wasn’t stupid. He knew what this was.

  Jagz and Ush got to fight—got to prove themselves. Even Kaazz, the old shaman, had stepped up and grown stronger. Cromus and Sais were already leagues ahead, leading them all with confidence. And then there was him.

  Too weak to fight.

  Too useless to help.

  Too much of a liability to even be included.

  He felt it now, more than ever. The slow, creeping certainty that he was being left behind. Not because they wanted to, but because… why wouldn’t they?

  What was he, compared to them?

  They all had a place.

  Jagz, the wild brawler. Ush, the silent predator. Kaazz, the growing force of nature. Cromus, their commanding frontliner. Sais, the sharp-eyed strategist.

  And Loose Tooth?

  A coward.

  A dead weight.

  They didn’t say it, but he could feel it in the space between their words. They weren’t counting on him. Hell, they barely even looked at him.

  He forced himself to nod, his face locked in a neutral mask. “Got it.”

  No one questioned it. No one hesitated.

  Because no one expected anything from him.

  And that was the worst part of all.

  Jagz strode forward, shoulders squared, his movements brimming with confidence. The eager grin on his face was pure anticipation, a predator walking straight into the den of his prey. As he approached the base of the Cradlethorn, the Thornspitters above stirred, their glowing rose-like heads shifting in his direction, taking notice of the approaching threat.

  Then, the noise started.

  Sharp, chittering screeches filled the air, a warning signal spreading through the canopy. More of the creatures shifted, rustling the branches as their vine-covered limbs stretched and coiled. Some clung to the trunk, heads tilting, assessing. Others grew bolder.

  A sudden pop-hiss rang out as one Thornspitter launched a bulbous seed pod from high above. Jagz barely had time to react before it slammed into the ground beside him—BOOM!—exploding into a burst of tiny razor-like thorns. The young goblin twisted away, dodging nimbly, his grin widening.

  Pods rained down, some bursting mid-air, scattering clouds of sharp debris. At the same time, several Thornspitters closer to the ground unfurled their vine-like arms, the tips curling before firing a spray of thorns directly at him.

  Jagz was already moving. With a gleeful snarl, he activated his ability. His fingers stretched, claws sprouting from the tips, and his jaw ached as his teeth sharpened, his body instinctively shifting to embrace the savage power of his new class.

  Jagz lunged, dodging between the incoming projectiles with fluid, animalistic movements. One thorn grazed his shoulder, another nicked his leg, but neither slowed him down. He twisted, bounding forward, closing the distance with alarming speed.

  And then he was in—claws ripping into the nearest Thornspitter as it screeched in alarm. Bark-like flesh tore beneath his strikes, green sap spilling across his hands as he forced it back.

  From the sidelines, Cromus and Sais remained steady, watching closely.

  Kaazz, standing nearby, nodded approvingly. “Good instincts,” he muttered.

  Ush, already moving, vanished into the underbrush, her form flickering out of sight.

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  And Loose Tooth?

  He watched. Even with the danger, even with the chaos unfolding before him, Loose Tooth could see the joy in it.

  Jagz’s face was alight with exhilaration, a wide, wild grin stretched across his features as he tore into the Thornspitter, reveling in his newfound strength. Ush, ever the shadow, wore the ghost of a smirk before vanishing into the fray, a silent predator ready to strike from unseen angles. Even Kaazz, the once-weary shaman, had nodded in approval, his words steady, acknowledging Jagz’s instincts.

  Praise. Loose Tooth’s stomach twisted.

  He wanted that. Not just the words, not just the nods of approval—he wanted the feeling of it. The rush. The power. The certainty that when he stepped forward, others would see him, acknowledge him, respect him.

  Instead, he stood on the sidelines. Watching. Always watching.

  “That should be me out there…” He thought with a yern

  The Thornspitters shrieked again, the fight escalating.

  Loose Tooth fingers curled tighter around the handle of his dagger. His breath hitched, and without thinking, he took another step forward.

  Jagz was a force of nature.

  He tore through the Thornspitters with wild, reckless abandon, his claws carving deep furrows into their bark-like flesh. The moment his Savage Shift activated, his movements became sharper, his strikes heavier, his whole body brimming with raw, untamed aggression. The Thornspitters, despite their numbers, faltered under his assault. One lunged, its thorn-covered vines whipping toward him, but Jagz ducked low, twisting mid-motion to swipe upward. His claws met its exposed torso, raking across its chest with a wet, shredding sound. The creature screeched and recoiled, but Jagz didn’t let up. He barreled forward, tackling it to the ground before sinking his fangs into its shoulder. Sap-like ichor splattered across his face, and he spat it out with a wide, toothy grin.

  Ush was his opposite.

  Where Jagz overwhelmed, she dismantled. Her movements were deliberate, precise, calculated. One Thornspitter snapped its vine-like limbs toward her, but she wasn’t there when they landed. She reappeared in a blur of shadow, sidestepping the attack, slipping through the chaos like smoke through fingers. Her dagger flashed—a single stroke through the back of the creature’s leg. It collapsed instantly. Before it could even register the pain, she was already behind it, driving her blade into the base of its spine, twisting sharply.

  Another Thornspitter lashed out from above, dropping from the tree in an attempt to catch her from behind. Ush’s form flickered, and then she was gone, appearing several feet away, untouched. Her expression was calm, almost serene. No wild battle cry, no gloating. Just precise, deadly efficiency.

  They were winning. Despite being outnumbered, the Thornspitters couldn’t keep up. Jagz’s relentless aggression forced them on the defensive, while Ush picked them off with quiet lethality. The creatures, once confident in their home territory, were now scrambling.

  But battles changed in an instant.

  Jagz’s thrill at his own power had made him reckless. Too focused on the next kill, he failed to notice the three Thornspitters that had crept through the branches behind him. Their vine-like arms coiled, sharp thorns glinting as they prepared to strike.

  Loose Tooth saw it. His breath caught in his throat. He had been frozen up until now, watching from the sidelines, toying with his dagger in hand, dreaming, wishing he was them. But now? Now he saw an opening. He saw a chance.

  Jagz had no idea what was behind him. If Loose Tooth acted now, if he moved fast enough—He could prove himself.

  His stiffly moved before turning into a full on sprint, tunnel vision taking over, all he saw was his blade digging into the thronspitters back, everyone cheering him on as he unlocked his class. He was zoned in to the point he didn’t hear Kaazz’s warning.

  Kaazz while smiling and nodding his approval at the two young goblins, eyes locked onto Loose Tooth running in, he did not react in time, but still tried to call Loose tooth back.

  “He is going.” Sais spoke so only Cromus could hear him.

  “I know, if it goes south I’ll step in.” Cromus said calmly.

  All Loose saw was the Thornspitters, their backs turned, their focus entirely on Jagz. His pulse roared in his ears. He would land the first hit. He would drop one before they even knew he was there.

  And then, then he would be granted a class just like the others Just a little closer.

  He raised his dagger—All the Thornspitters turned to him.

  As if they had known. As if they had been waiting.

  Loose Tooth’s stomach dropped. Fear started to flood him, he wanted to run, but it was far too late for that.

  The closest one struck first, its vine-like limb snapping out in a blur. The impact caught him square in the ribs, and the air fled his lungs in a sharp, gasping wheeze. He was lifted off his feet and sent tumbling across the ground, his dagger flying from his grasp.

  Pain. He couldn’t breathe. He barely had time to roll before another Thornspitter lunged, aiming to pin him down. Loose Tooth scrambled backward, wheezing, clutching at his side. It hurt. Gods, it hurt. The other two jumped at him as well.

  Jagz finally turned. His eyes went wide. “Loose?!”

  Loose Tooth barely registered it. He was too busy trying to get away as the Thornspitters loomed over him, thorns gleaming in the dim light.

  But as they descended towards Loose Tooth. Something crashed into the one in front, then the next and then the last one.

  Loose Tooth dropped his arms from the defensive guard, just in time to see Cromus swinging Raging Boar through the Thornspitter’s midsection in a brutal, decisive cleave. The creature let out a piercing shriek before being flung aside, its body hitting the ground in a twisted heap.

  Sais fired three arrows rapidly from his bow not to be out done by Cromus, one being pinned to the tree, and two more catching fire burned to a crisp. Kaazz’s staff slammed into the ground. Earth erupted, knocking four thornspitters to the ground and fire landed on them leaving them to let out what could only be called dying cries.

  The battle was over before Loose Tooth could even catch his breath. He lay there, chest heaving, pain blooming through his side, his mind racing with everything that had just happened. His moment. His chance. And he had been swatted away like an insect.

  "That was a bit too predictable, Loose." Cromus’s voice wasn’t angry. It wasn’t sharp or scolding. If anything, it was… soft. Too soft. Like he already knew this would happen. Like it wasn’t worth getting upset over.

  Loose Tooth’s stomach twisted.

  He couldn’t bring himself to look up. He didn’t want to see the disappointment—the quiet confirmation that, once again, he had failed. He had ruined his moment. He had proven, beyond a doubt, what he had feared:

  He wasn’t meant for this. His hands clenched against the dirt, breath hitching as his ribs throbbed with every shallow inhale. The others were still standing, their weapons still warm from battle, their hands steady. Like real adventurers. Like people who belonged.

  And him? A broken, breathless heap at their feet.

  Cromus sighed, shifting his weapon. Loose Tooth thought he heard something in it—frustration. Disappointment. But he didn’t see the way Cromus’s expression softened, the way his fingers twitched like he wanted to reach down and help but knew it wouldn’t make a difference.

  Cromus didn’t see failure. He saw something smaller.

  He saw a goblin trying so desperately to stand among giants, to claw his way up to their level, only to fall, again and again. And it hurt to see.

  But Loose Tooth didn’t see that. He didn’t hear the unspoken sorrow behind Cromus’s words. All he heard was his own shame screaming back at him.

  Cromus let out a slow sigh. Then, instead of turning away, he knelt down.

  Loose Tooth stiffened, his breath catching as Cromus’s shadow loomed over him. He braced himself for the scolding, the lecture, the quiet judgment. He had earned it, hadn’t he? He had charged in like a fool, gotten himself thrown aside like a ragdoll. His ribs still ached from the blow, each breath a reminder of his own failure.

  But no harsh words came.

  Instead, Cromus reached out, his broad, calloused hand settling gently over Loose Tooth’s wound. The warmth started slow, a quiet hum against his battered ribs, then spread—like sunlight breaking through thick storm clouds. It filled him, wrapping around the ache in his bones, sinking deep into the bruises, the pain, the exhaustion. But it wasn’t just the healing. It was more than that.

  It was Gaia.

  He felt her, not as a distant goddess, not as some unknowable force, but as presence. Like hands pressing against his wounds, like fingers combing gently through his hair. A warmth that seeped not just into his body, but into something deeper. His heart. His soul. As if, for just a moment, he was held.

  Loose Tooth’s breath hitched. He hadn’t realized how cold he’d felt until now.

  The healing faded, leaving only lingering warmth in its wake. His ribs no longer ached. His hands had stopped shaking. Slowly, hesitantly, he looked up—finally meeting Cromus’s gaze.

  And what he saw wasn’t anger. Wasn’t disappointment. Wasn’t even pity.

  It was understanding.

  Loose Tooth swallowed hard, his throat tight. He wanted to say something, anything, but the words wouldn’t come. His fingers curled into the dirt, grounding himself, steadying himself.

  Cromus didn’t push. Didn’t say anything he didn’t need to. He simply gave a small nod, then rose back to his feet. The others were already moving—retrieving weapons, discussing what to do next, preparing for the next fight.

  Loose Tooth sat there a moment longer, his mind tangled in the warmth still lingering in his chest.

  He had failed. Again. But this time, someone hadn’t blamed him for it.

  And somehow… that made it worse.

  He pushed himself to his feet, forcing his legs to steady beneath him. A look of determination on his face. He wasn’t done. He couldn’t be done. He clenched his jaw, watching the others, watching Jagz and Ush, watching Cromus.

  One day, he would stand among them. One day, he wouldn’t need saving. And until then… he would endure.