Eleven thousand Crowns. My newly minted guild owed 11,000 Crowns, due in six days. Sharla had ushered Milli outside when I started yelling, leaving me alone to vent my frustrations to the kindly Quokka bartender, who nodded sympathetically while wiping down the counter.
When I finally stepped outside, I found them sitting on a bench, Sharla looking mildly irritated and Milli slumped like a child caught drawing on the wall—shoulders hunched and head dipped. The sight made my anger dissipate, replaced by regret. I had no energy left to berate her.
“You said you had a quest to do?” I asked, breaking the silence. Neither of them seemed eager to start the conversation. Milli’s face lit up at the opening.
“Yeah, it’s a patrol quest. It seems pretty easy,” she said tentatively. “And since we’re our own guild, we earn way more than we’d normally get.”
Bzzz Bzzz Bzzz
Milli sent the quest details to our newly created group chat, a feature she’d apparently mastered already. The quest was straightforward: patrol the roads and kill 15 goblins. It offered 1,500 Crowns—100 per goblin—with a bonus of an extra 100 Crowns for every additional goblin slain.
“It does sound promising,” I agreed, though a pit of doubt churned in my stomach. “But how tough are goblins to deal with?”
Sharla chimed in, arms crossed. “Depends. The feral ones wandering around the woods are manageable if you’re careful. If they’re wearing clothes, though? That means they’re smarter, tougher—and a real handful if you get more than a couple of them together.”
Bzzz Bzzz Bzzz
Milli sent a formal quest invite, the accept button flashing beneath the message in my interface. I clicked it, and my quest counter ticked up. Almost on cue, another notification slid into view. I opened it, partly out of habit and partly for the pleasure of hearing her voice again.
The narrator’s sultry tone purred through my mind, sending a tingle down my spine.
New Quest:
Green for Green
Description:
Traders have reported feral goblins prowling the roads near the settlement. All those energetic new adventurers have stirred them up, and now they’re out in force. Do your part and kill 15 of these filthy creatures for the town. And remember, any extras you bag will earn you a bonus. So don’t be shy—slaughter as many as you like.
Reward:
1,500 Crowns plus 100 Crowns for every additional goblin.
Sharla explained that her previous party had done a similar quest but were paid far less—1,000 Crowns for 20 goblins. Our rates were significantly higher, but the math was still bleak. To clear our debt, we’d need to complete at least two quests a day, three if we wanted any money left for supplies or upgrades. The weight of it loomed over us, but I pushed it aside and stood up. Sharla followed, and Milli scrambled to her feet a beat later.
Sharla already had an axe and her armoured boots. Milli had only her leather boots, and I had... my tent pole and Walkin’ boots. We were painfully under-equipped. Sharla and I discussed our strategy as we walked toward the eastern gate, Milli darting ahead to chat with shopkeepers and gather intel.
According to Milli, the eastern road was the best spot for hunting feral goblins. The problem was, none of us knew how my class skills would work in practice. Not being able to use the same attack twice severely limited our options.
I mentioned my Goblin Speech skill and suggested laying an ambush with me as bait to call the goblins in. Sharla, to my surprise, didn’t question how I had the skill. Instead, she nodded thoughtfully.
“Not bad,” she said. “If they come to you, we can stay out of direct combat unless we have to. If the numbers get overwhelming, we bail.”
We stopped about an hour and a half’s walk from the gates. Milli, clearly unused to walking long distances, lagged behind most of the way. After a few too many stops to let her catch her breath, I offered her my Walkin' boots. At first, she refused, insisting they were way too big for her, but after some coaxing, she reluctantly tried them on. To her surprise—and mine—they resized themselves perfectly to her feet, just as they had done for me. Her old boots also resized themselves when I put them on, but they lacked the stamina boost the magical pair provided.
“I’m getting those back when we’re done,” I reminded her as she happily jogged alongside us, keeping pace without complaint for the first time.
“Deal,” she grinned.
We picked a spot just off the main road, surrounded by dense foliage. The plan was simple: Milli and I would hide on one side of the road while Sharla took position on the other. If we spotted goblins, I would lure them closer with my Goblin Speech ability, using a friendly, non-aggressive tone to avoid alarming them. Sharla would then ambush them from behind and take them out quickly. If the situation got out of hand, she’d message us in the group chat to stay hidden until the goblins lost interest and left.
Sharla:
Okay, I see one coming. You ready?
Ryan:
Ready.
Milli:
Ready.
The group that approached turned out to be three feral goblins. Only one of them was armed, and none wore anything resembling clothing beyond tattered loincloths. Their potbellied forms and spindly legs gave them an almost cartoonishly unbalanced look, but their sharp features and erratic movements were unsettling up close. They behaved more like wild animals than the organized goblins I’d encountered on my first night.
One of them dropped onto all fours, sniffing at a bush before yanking out a fistful of berries and greedily stuffing them into its mouth. Another scratched at its arm, letting out a series of sharp grunts that sounded like a laugh. The leader was more distinct—its nose was bent at a severe right angle, clearly broken in the past, and it carried a tree branch slung over its shoulder like a crude club. Its exaggerated swagger suggested authority.
I focused on the lead goblin, tapping into my Goblin Speech ability. The compendium had explained how translation abilities worked, but this was my first time using it. I spoke, the words feeling both foreign and oddly familiar in my mouth.
“Check out this cool bug,” I said.
The phrase emerged as the harsh barks and snorts characteristic of Goblinese. The lead goblin’s head snapped in my direction, its beady eyes narrowing as it let out a sharp grunt to the others. The two flanking goblins spread out, moving with surprising speed as they closed in on our position. Milli and I were hidden behind a thick tree, but they were now just meters away.
The goblins’ greasy, pungent stench hit me like a wall. My heart pounded as their guttural noises grew louder. I glanced at Milli, who was standing rigid, her eyes wide and her entire body trembling like a startled cat. One wrong move, and she’d bolt.
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Ryan:
What are you waiting for? They’re right on top of us!
The message sent just as Sharla burst from her hiding spot, screaming at the top of her lungs. Her deep, bellowing roar was deafening, making my ears ring and startling the goblins into gasping, animal-like cries of shock. Sharla charged forward, slamming into the nearest goblin with her full weight, sending it crumpling to the ground.
Before the others could react, she swung her woodcutter’s axe with brutal precision, burying it deep into the skull of the second goblin.
SCHLOK.
The sound of the blade meeting bone was sickening. Sharla yanked on the axe to free it, but it stuck fast. She didn’t notice the leader goblin winding up for a counterattack until it was too late.
The club smashed into her face with a brutal thud, sending her sprawling to the ground. She groaned, dazed, a nasty bump already swelling on the side of her head. Her eyes darted around unfocused as the goblin turned its attention toward her.
The goblin raised its crude branch high, ready to deliver a finishing blow to Sharla as she struggled to get back on her feet. Without thinking, I jumped out from behind the tree, my pole already in hand. With a sharp flick, I extended it to full length and swung it around the goblin’s neck, locking it into a rear choke.
HUURK!
The goblin let out a strangled gasp as I yanked backward with all my strength, sending both of us crashing to the ground. The creature flailed wildly, its nails scratching futilely at the smooth metal of the pole pressing against its windpipe. Despite its small size, it was alarmingly strong, its wiry frame fuelled by pure desperation.
I gritted my teeth and adjusted my grip. Remembering a move I’d seen my dad use on my uncle during one of their drunken wrestling matches, I swung my legs around the goblin’s torso and arched my back, tightening the hold. Its gasps turned frantic, clawed hands stretching upward, coming dangerously close to my face.
WHAP!
Sharla, now back on her feet and glowing faintly from a self-cast healing spell, kicked the goblin hard in the ribs. I heard the crunch of bone as the creature yelped and flew several feet to the side, landing in a heap. It clutched at a rapidly darkening purple bruise, spewing curses in Goblinese.
Sharla didn’t waste the opening. She strode forward and stomped down with all her might.
CRACK.
The goblin’s neck snapped audibly, and all movement ceased. Sharla stood over the child-sized monstrosity, her boot firmly pressed into its deformed neck, breathing hard. After a moment, she composed herself and turned to me, offering a hand.
“You alright?” she asked, pulling me to my feet.
“Yeah. Thanks for the save,” I replied, brushing dirt off my clothes.
Milli was still crouched behind the tree, trembling and letting out faint whimpering noises. It was clear that neither of us was remotely ready for combat. I felt a buzz behind my eyes as a small progress bar appeared in my interface, labelled “Grappling.” The bar had filled about 1% before disappearing. At least something good had come from my panic-fuelled improvisation.
Sharla looked at Milli and then down at herself, covered in thick, greenish-red goblin blood. She tried wiping it off with her sleeve, only succeeding in smearing the sticky substance across her face. I retrieved a water ration from my backpack and handed it to her. She poured it over her hands and scrubbed at her face before handing the bottle back with a nod of thanks.
I crouched behind the tree and gently placed a hand on Milli’s shoulder.
“Hey, it’s over. Come help us loot these things,” I said softly.
Milli nodded hesitantly but still seemed rooted to the spot. Meanwhile, Sharla began looting the goblins, taking first pick as we’d agreed. Milli shot her a look of disappointment but didn’t complain. The goblins had little of value—a few crude trinkets, bits of fabric, and some rancid meat. Once we had stored what we could, the bodies crumbled into dust, leaving only faint stains on the ground.
Sharla noticed Milli still looked out of place. She walked over and spoke to her quietly. I didn’t eavesdrop, but whatever she said brought a small smile to Milli’s face. Soon after, Milli started collecting twigs, leaves, and fabric from her inventory. She sat cross-legged, working diligently on what turned out to be a rudimentary padded helmet for Sharla. When she finished, she beamed with pride and helped fit the helmet snugly onto Sharla’s head. Sharla knelt to make it easier, the scene resembling a knight receiving their helmet from a child.
The next group we encountered had four goblins, two of which were much smaller and unarmed. This time, Sharla was in better form, dispatching them with practised efficiency. Her axe dripped with greenish-red ichor, chunks of goblin flesh clinging to the blade.
We repeated this process three more times over the next two hours. Goblin patrols came through every 15–20 minutes, usually in groups of three to five. Our strategy evolved: Milli threw rocks to distract and disorient the goblins, while I kept them at bay using my pole, now modified with a sharpened stick lashed to one end for extra reach. Sharla did the heavy lifting, cutting them down with brutal precision.
By the last encounter, we were working together like a proper team. I kept the goblins within Sharla’s range, and Milli’s well-placed projectiles often distracted them long enough for Sharla to land a decisive blow. Each fight only lasted a few seconds, but the effort left us all wiped out. After looting the final group, we tallied our total: 17 goblins slain, just enough to earn the bonus.
“Let’s not push our luck,” Sharla suggested, wiping sweat from her brow. We agreed to avoid confrontation on the way back to the settlement.
Milli, now buzzing with energy, excitedly recounted Sharla’s exploits.
“They were all like ‘RAWR,’ and then you went ‘SHWING!’ and cut its head off! It was so badass!” she exclaimed, wielding a tree branch like an imaginary axe and making exaggerated sound effects.
Sharla chuckled, ruffling Milli’s hair.
“Yup, that’s definitely what I did,” she said jokingly, throwing me an amused look.
Despite my initial doubts, Milli had proven herself surprisingly eager—and surprisingly effective—once she got involved.
We were only about a half hour out of town when I noticed a figure ducking behind a tree. I shot a message into the group chat, not wanting to alert whatever laid in waiting for us.
Ryan:
Guys hold up, I think there is something ahead.
Sharla jerked her head to the side, the signal to get off the road and we all took positions behind trees and bushes.
Only a few seconds passed and a balding man wearing khaki cargo pants, military boots and a dark tank top stepped out from behind the tree that they were using as cover.
"Didn't think you would have noticed me, I've been here for the last 40 minutes waiting for you Sharla"
Sharla:
It's Oliver, something is off about him.
"Party dissolved after we killed that little prick, we all got kicked out of the guild. Tim is back with the boss, the other two disappeared when you did. Little birdie told me that you have hooked up with a new group and that you had left out the Eastern gate to complete a quest."
Sharla:
He sounds drunk, I'm going to go talk to him.
Sharla walked out from her hiding spot and onto the road.
"Hey Oliver, didn't realise it was you" She said in a friendly tone, smiling and waving.
"There she is, the black bitch" Oliver said, either not hearing her or choosing to ignore her. "You know, my dad always told me working with darkies was bad luck." He continued pointing his blade at her.
Sharla's smile vanished and her grip on the axe shaft changed from a relaxed one to a more menacing double handed posture.
"OOOO scary" Oliver said in a mocking tone. “It has been a long time since I had the chance to put one of you things in it’s place.”
Then he threw himself into a sprint, shoulder charging at Sharla. He got her by surprise and knocked the wind out of her, bringing her to the ground.
Sharla and Oliver were nearly the same height, but Sharla had the edge in raw muscle. Despite that, Oliver had her pinned. He straddled her, slashing and stabbing with frightening speed. Sharla raised her arms to shield her face, his blade carving deep into her forearms. A yellow aura flared around her, knitting the wounds shut almost as quickly as they were made.
With a furious roar, she smashed the haft of her axe into his face. The impact was brutal—bone crunched as Oliver reeled back, clutching his now-ruined nose. Sharla didn’t stop. Hooking the axe’s shaft around his neck, she planted a boot against his chest and flung him like a sack of grain. He hustled into the tree Milli and I were hiding behind.
Oliver staggered to his feet, swaying like a drunk. Above him, the telltale glow of my Flaw Finder highlighted a heavy, precarious branch. My instincts took over. I darted out from cover, jumping and grabbing the branch near its edge. With all my weight, I swung.
CRACK
The branch broke free, splinters jutting like jagged teeth from its severed end. It arced down in a deadly sweep. The splintered wood plunged into Oliver’s neck with a sickening thunk.
For a moment, everything froze. Oliver swayed, his hands twitching toward the branch lodged in his throat. Blood bubbled from his lips in a wet gurgle, and then his body folded. He hit the ground hard. The jolt dislodged the branch, tearing the wound open. Blood sprayed in a grotesque fountain, painting the dirt path in crimson.
Sharla was on her feet in an instant, her axe forgotten as she dropped to her knees beside Oliver’s spasming body. Hands shaking, she pressed them to the gaping wound. Her yellow aura flared as she whispered a prayer, but the light sputtered and faded. Her magic couldn’t undo the damage.
“No, no, no!” Sharla cried, switching to CPR. Each compression sent fresh sprays of blood into the dirt. Her anguished sobs cut through the silence as Oliver gave a final shudder and went still.
I couldn’t move. My hands hung limply at my sides, the weight of what I’d done pressing down like a stone. Milli stepped away from me, her eyes darting to the branch, then back to me. She said nothing but looked me over like she was seeing me for the first time.
Sharla stayed kneeling over Oliver’s body, her fingers hovering over his lifeless chest as though waiting for his next breath. But it never came. The forest was silent, except for the sound of her broken sobs.
