The elf laughed, and as he did, he disappeared—his laughter echoing through the forest. Justin stared around wildly, bewildered.

  “W-where did he go?”

  “Quiet,” John said calmly. Remembering the panther that could go invisible, he wasn’t too surprised.

  He stayed steady, dropping into a combat stance with his sword raised. His eyes scanned the trees, ears tuned to the forest’s hums and rustles.

  Sensing something, John’s eyes widened. He lunged toward Justin.

  “DOWN!”

  Justin reacted fast, throwing himself to the ground. A moment later, a long knife cut through the air where his neck had been. The blade shifted, slashing down at Justin’s crouched form.

  John got there just in time, deflecting it with a sharp squeal of steel as his gladius met the attack. He stepped forward, thrusting his blade while shoving Justin behind him.

  The long knife parried, but John pressed on, picturing the invisible elf’s body in his mind. The bald creep had said more were coming—John wasn’t about to waste time. He gritted his teeth, killing intent in his eyes.

  Thrust, parry, pivot. Duck, step, thrust, swing. John sank into focus, fighting the hidden enemy. The elf’s weapon was a faint blur, sometimes just an afterimage. John leaned on his instincts and senses—his strong suit.

  He swung at the elf’s side, expecting the parry. It came. He yanked his gladius back, pumping mana into his arm as he stepped in and thrust hard.

  The elf barely blocked, sliding back with a scrape—his invisible boots gouging the dirt. John had counted on that. He didn’t wait, sheathing his gladius but keeping his hands on the hilt.

  He bent his knees, settling into a stance, mana flowing into his grip. The elf and his knife vanished again. John had been expecting this, too. Behind him, John vaguely heard Justin inhale sharply. He was scared.

  “Close your eyes,” he told him.

  John didn’t check if he did. He deepened his focus, senses razor-sharp as he breathed slow. In. Out. In. Out.

  A shift to his left—John’s hands tightened on the hilt. He whipped his gladius free, slicing up as he turned. A bright beam flared from the blade, lighting the forest.

  Flash Draw

  A notification chimed, then a ragged scream ripped through the air. The light faded, showing the bald elf on the ground, clutching the stump of his severed arm.

  Blood poured from a deep gash in his side too—he was bleeding out fast. The elf’s face twisted with pain and rage as he spat at John.

  “You wretch! You cut off my arm! Impossible!”

  John stepped toward him, ready to finish it, but stopped at his next words.

  “My companions will get you for this! We’ve already got one of you—wait till you see what we have planned for her,” he laughed, coughing blood, “and you’ll be next! You miserable wretches! The System must hate you, dumping you on Mordrith for your first Tutorial! Bahahaha–!”

  His laughter cut off as John swung, slicing off the elf’s other arm. He had run out of pity for these things.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  “Agghhhh~!”

  John tuned him out. He planted his boot on the wriggling elf’s chest, pinning him. He looked at Justin and held out his gladius, hilt-first.

  “You finish him.”

  “W-what? No, why?”

  “If you want to survive, you need to get stronger. You level up by contributing to kills.”

  “B-but…”

  “Choose. Live or die.”

  John’s eyes locked on Justin’s, hard and steady. It was a rotten choice for a kid, but this wasn’t a normal place. John knew that too well. You turned into a monster here, or you got eaten by them.

  Justin took the hilt, weak and shaky. His arm dipped under the weight before he caught it. Seeing he needed a push, John grabbed his hands and guided the blade toward the elf’s throat.

  The elf kept talking, switching between begging and cursing. Now he zeroed in on Justin.

  “You won’t do it, runt. My friends are coming—you’re both gonna die screaming!”

  He rambled on, and John felt Justin’s hands tremble in his own, the grip slack. Just when he thought the kid wouldn’t do it, Justin’s shaky hands pressed down.

  It was feeble, but the blade dipped until it grazed the elf’s neck. The elf’s eyes bulged, panic setting in.

  “Aghhh! No, please! I come from a noble family! We have wealth!”

  John nodded—good enough. With a grim look, he clamped his hands tighter around Justin’s wrists and shoved down.

  The dark elf’s words turned to gurgles as the blade sank into his flesh, blood flooding his throat. Moments later, the light left his eyes. Justin sank to the ground numbly.

  A notification bell rang out. John checked his notifications.

  Focused Energy Circulation has leveled up. The player has gained a new level of mastery over this ability.

  Combat Sense has leveled up. The player has gained a new level of mastery over this ability.

  Player has defeated Zrathis Vek - Veilblade - Level 25.

  Player has leveled up!

  Only one level for a Level 25? Maybe the reward was smaller since the System counted him as assisting Justin’s kill. He dumped all three points into Focus.

  The third notification caught his eye—something new. “Veilblade.” What was that? A job? Or… a class? Did you get one at Level 25, or was there some other trick to it?

  John didn’t dwell on it long. He glanced at Justin and saw his description had changed.

  Human - Level 6

  “You should spend your points soon, kid.”

  Justin didn’t answer, staring blankly at the dark elf’s corpse.

  John stood, walked over, and grabbed his shoulder, shaking him.

  “Snap out of it. This isn’t the time.”

  Slowly, Justin’s eyes focused, meeting John’s gaze. He looked away, fiddling with an invisible screen.

  “I… I gained 5 levels.”

  “Yeah. Spend them,” John said simply.

  He left him there, heading back to the elf’s body. He searched it, grabbing some basic supplies and a whistle carved from white bone-like material.

  Then he picked up the long knife, testing its weight.

  Drow Dagger (Uncommon)

  A slim, single-edged blade forged from a dark, lightweight alloy, sharper and tougher than common steel. Built for quick, silent cuts, it balances perfectly in the hand. The bone-carved hilt, wrapped in thin leather, offers a steady grip, while the narrow guard keeps it practical and deadly.

  Light but solid—a good weapon. He sheathed it, then walked back to Justin.

  “Take this,” he said, handing him the knife. Still distracted by his status screen, Justin glanced up and took it hesitantly, hands trembling around the hilt.

  John didn’t wait for a reply. He hauled Justin to his feet and pushed him forward. They couldn’t stay. The elf had said his friends were coming, and John was inclined to believed him.

  —A few minutes later—

  Three elf figures stood around Zrathis Vek’s corpse. One, a female, kicked it.

  “Idiot. We were told not to engage alone. Always a fool.”

  The second knelt, checking the wounds. “Clean cuts,” he said, “except this one.” He pointed at the sloppy stab in the throat.

  The third turned away, pulling out a bone whistle and blowing into it.

  A sharp, bird-like call cut through the forest, carrying far.

  A short distance away, Justin flinched at the sound, his hands still shaky around the dagger.