3rd Person View | Scout's PoV
Trigger Warning: Sexual Assault
Scout wakes to heat. A pulsing orange glow paints the inside of her eyelids, and for a moment she thinks she's dreaming.
Then the pain hits, a throbbing ache that pulses behind her left eye. She groans and rolls onto her side, the grass beneath her damp and sticky. Her fingers brush something wet and warm near her temple.
She blinks, but her left eye refuses to cooperate; everything on that side is smeared red. The world tilts and spins. She remembers the barrier collapsing, Christian shouting orders, the goblins swarming, her crossbow raised—
Then something slamming into her skull.
She pushes up on trembling elbows. The field is on fire. Patches of grass burn in erratic circles, and smoke coils low over the ground. Shadows dart between the flames, long and hunched and gleaming with green eyes.
Bodies lie scattered across the field. Her breath catches. Where is everyone? Where are the numbers Christian gathered?
Then she sees movement. Not outside — inside the school, behind the boarded-up windows of the main building. Wide eyes peer through cracks. Students who ran and hid.
They're alive. Just not out here with her.
A furious roar cuts through the night.
Scout jerks toward the sound. Near the center of the field, Christian fights alone. His armor is cracked along the chestplate, bloodied at the collar, and dented at the ribs. His sword drips with green goblin blood. His breath comes in ragged bursts, but he still stands poised.
A cluster of goblins rushes him. He slams a gauntlet to his breastplate, shouting.
"Searing Smite!"
Golden-white fire erupts along his blade. He pivots, swinging in a wide arc, and a fan of incandescent flame slices across the dark. Five goblins are cut down instantly, their bodies flinging backward, burning.
For a second, Scout feels hope spark in her chest. Then a dry clicking sound behind her steals it away.
She turns.
Two goblins stand a few feet away, creeping closer.
These aren't basic dagger-goblins. Their cloaks are burlap, stained and hooded, marked with crude symbols drawn in soot. Their eyes shine with a sick anticipation.
One carries rope, the other carries a serpent dagger, its curved blade dripping with something dark.
"Oh, no," Scout whispers.
They grin, tongues flicking out to lick cracked lips. The rope-goblin lunges first, grabbing at her cloak. She kicks wildly, her foot slamming into his chest. He stumbles back, snarling.
Her hands claw at the dirt as she tries to scramble away, but her limbs are shaking, unsteady. Every twist felt like moving through wet cement.
The dagger-goblin shrieks a laugh and lunges.
Pain explodes across Scout's cheeks as the blade drags from one side of her face to the other; a burning, splitting agony. Her cry rips from her throat before she can swallow it.
The wound pours blood into her mouth, eyes, and nose. Her body folds inward, all nerves screaming at once. Her breaths come in shallow, uneven bursts.
The pain was all she could focus on; everything else shrank to a pinprick. She lay limp while the goblins' claws scrabbled at her clothes. Scout didn't fight. She couldn't. The pain in her face was a living thing now, chewing its way deeper with every heartbeat.
The goblin with rope yanked Scout's cloak off her shoulders. Buttons pinged across the grass as her shirt was pried open. Cold air hit her bare skin; rough fingers pawed at her chest, her stomach, lower. The second goblin fumbled with her zipper, giggling.
Scout stared past them at the burning field and fell backward through time.
The smell is what returns first; hay and lantern oil. Montana nights were always cold, even in the summer.
She lived on a small farm with her parents, helping with chores in the mornings, feeding chickens, carrying tools, and brushing the old barn cat.
A simple life she would never have traded, until it was taken from her.
She remembers rubbing sleep from her eyes as the sheep began bleating — one panicked cry, then another, until the whole herd sounded like it was begging for help. Her mother rushed to the window, Scout clinging to her nightgown. In the pasture, shadows darted among the flock.
Her father was already pulling on his boots. She remembered the way he loaded his shotgun, the clack of metal echoing through their little farmhouse.
He kissed Scout's forehead. "Stay inside, sweetpea."
The first howl was deafening.
Her father froze at the door. "Damn," he whispered.
Scout wasn't supposed to follow him outside, but she did, peeking from behind her mother's legs.
The moon hung full over the pastures, casting faint beams on the shadows that moved.
Her father fired once, the muzzle flash briefly lighting the night.
"Shit. Back inside!" he barked. "Barricade the door!"
They didn't get the chance. A wolf hurled itself at the barn door, and the wood shuddered.
Scout clung to her mother's hand as they backed into the house.
Her father held the wolves off long enough to buy them a minute, but the pack was too big.
One wolf smashed through a barn window, spraying glass across the floor, knocking over a candle. Another leapt onto the porch and clawed at the siding, snarling.
Her father fired again and again, but the wolves didn't retreat, eventually encircling the farm.
Her father yelled back toward the house: "Run! Go! Take Scout and run!"
Her mother didn't hesitate. She scooped Scout into her arms and sprinted down the hill, bare feet slapping frozen dirt. Scout's tiny heart slammed against her ribs as the howls grew closer.
The field stretched endlessly ahead — a wide, open plain with nowhere to hide. Her mother's arms shook as she ran.
"Mom," Scout whimpered. "Mom—"
"I've got you," her mother gasped. "I've got you, baby—just hold on—"
Two wolves peeled off from the pack and gave chase. Scout heard their claws tearing up the soil.
The first wolf leapt, knocking her mother forward. She staggered but kept moving.
The second closed in, throwing its weight onto them. The impact knocked both of them to the ground.
Scout went tumbling forward, rolling across cold grass. She scrambled to her knees just in time to see her mother shoving her away with one last burst of strength.
"Go!" she screamed. "Go, Scout! Don't— don't stop!" Then the wolf was on her.
Scout froze.
Her mother's voice. Her father's shotgun in the distance. The barn catching fire behind them. Everything blurred.
Scout forced herself to run, tears streaking her cheeks. Scout remembered the freezing air cutting her lungs as she ran across the open field.
But she was small. Slow.
The tree line was so close—
A wolf clamped its jaws around her calf.
The pain was blinding. She screamed in agony as the ground rushed up to meet her. The wolf's teeth dug deeper, making her vision swim. The world darkened.
A gunshot thundered across the field. The wolf jerked, then collapsed beside her.
Scout blinked through tears to see a silhouette standing behind it.
It was their neighbor, a fellow farmer who lived just over the ridge. With his rifle smoking, he shouted something she couldn't hear over the pounding of her heart.
Behind him, the barn burned. Somewhere near that fire, the gunshots had stopped.
Scout's last memory before passing out was the sky above her, and the thought that she would never feel safe again.
After being rushed to the hospital, the doctors said it was a miracle she didn't end up with a limp. The bite had missed the nerves by less than an inch.
Her life after that was a whirlwind — an aunt in Oregon, then an uncle in Nevada, then a family friend for a year before she finally ended up with her maternal grandparents in California.
But the night itself? Her mother's last scream? None of that ever left her.
The memory snapped shut, and Scout was back on the school field with goblin claws digging into her skin. Her shirt hung open. One creature's filthy hand closed around her bra; the other goblin knelt between her legs, claws fumbling with her waistband, giggling like a child unwrapping a present.
Scout's breath stutters as the goblins force her wrists together, rope cutting deep into her skin. One claws at her shoulder, trying to hold her steady.
A resonant DING rolls over the burning field. The clock tower's chime as it strikes midnight.
A system message appears in her vision.
[DAY 2 BEGINS]
[XP FROM DAY 1 CALCULATED]
[DISPERSING ACCUMULATED EXPERIENCE…]
Scout's pupils contract as power surges through her veins.
[LEVEL UP!]
[LEVEL UP!]
[LEVEL UP!]
[LEVEL UP!]
[LEVEL UP!]
[LEVEL UP!]
Her breath catches. Level seven.
A warmth blooms in her chest as her muscles tighten.
[ALL ABILITY SCORES +1]
The dagger-goblin, sensing newfound strength in its target, moves first. A vertical slash cuts straight down Scout's left cheek, crossing the earlier cut. The goblin cackles, knowing its attack should blind her with agony.
Scout doesn't even flinch. Her eyes snap open, glowing a furious, unnatural purple. Her aura erupts around her in a violet blaze.
The dagger goblin hesitates, confused.
Too late.
With an inhuman snarl, Scout drives her wrists apart, snapping the rope like a twig. She grabs the goblin's wrist, wrenching the dagger free from its hand. The dagger clatters to the dirt at the goblin's wrist cracks.
The goblin shrieks — Scout slams her forehead into its nose, then grabs it by the throat and drives it into the ground, the impact splitting the earth beneath it. It doesn't get up.
The second goblin lunges at her back.
Scout spins, eyes blazing. She grabs it by the throat and twists. A crunch, then—
Silence.
Her breath is ragged, but her body feels weightless, energized beyond anything she's ever felt.
The system waits patiently for her next action.
[YOU HAVE UNASSIGNED FEAT POINTS]
She throws open her interface with a flick of her hand. New feats glow, waiting to be selected from the options:
HORDE BREAKER
When you make a ranged attack against a creature, you may immediately make a second attack against another creature within range.
COLUSSUS KILLER
When you hit a creature with a weapon attack, the creature takes extra damage if it's below its hit point maximum.
GIANT SLAYER
When a Large or larger creature within 5 feet of you hits or misses you with an attack, you can react to attack that creature immediately after its attack.
Her lips curl, selecting her favorite option without hesitation.
[FEAT ACQUIRED: HORDE BREAKER]
Another notification chimes.
[SPELL SLOTS RESTORED]
Her aura pulses brighter.
Several goblins have taken notice of her, snarling while taking slow steps back.
She whispers through clenched teeth.
"Don't run."
Her Hunter's Mark ignites, causing her eyes to burn brighter as the field reflects purple across the smoke.
"If you run, it'll make things difficult."
Scout slowly rises to her feet, then takes a step toward the battlefield.
Then another.
Christian freezes mid-swing as he catches sight of her through the chaos. His face tightens in confusion, then relief, then something like awe.
"Scout? How—"
"Christian," she calls. "How many are left?"
He wipes blood from his brow with the back of his gauntlet, eyes flicking to his system window while keeping his blade raised.
"Eighteen dagger goblins, thirteen archers, and both casters are still alive!"
He swallows. "I'll find and kill the commander. I think you can handle the rest!"
Scout smirks. "Okay."
Chains of light lash out from her body, tagging every goblin in sight. Each one hit by the aura staggers for a half-second as the mark clamps onto them, branding them with glowing violet sigils.
She sees their weak points: tiny pulses of light on their bodies.
She raises her crossbow. "Die."
The first arrow flies, slamming straight through a dagger-goblin's skull, triggering Horde Breaker.
A phantom bolt snaps into existence beside her and streaks toward a second goblin before the first even falls.
Two kills, one shot.
She pivots on her heel, firing again.
A dagger-goblin collapses.
Phantom bolt. Another archer drops from atop a table, its throat pierced.
She fires again. One arrow, two kills.
Again. One arrow, two kills.
Again. One arrow, two kills.
Her movements blur into streaks of purple. An archer goblin panics, firing a desperate shot at her. She sidesteps the arrow, then flicks her wrist.
Her next arrow punches through the archer's chest so hard it lifts him off the ground.
Phantom bolt whips to the next one—straight through the eye socket.
A dagger goblin charges at her with a shriek, and Scout doesn't bother reloading. She steps into him, grabs his wrist mid-strike, and snaps his arm backward. Before he screams, she spins him around and uses him as a projectile, throwing him into another goblin with bone-shattering force.
Five arrows fly in the next five seconds. Ten goblins die.
Across the field, one of the goblin casters begins chanting frantically, its orb glowing molten red.
Scout spots the glow and turns toward him sharply, firing a single arrow. The caster screeches a word of power, but the arrow hits first, shattering the orb in a burst of light.
The resulting explosion backfires, consuming the caster in an inferno of his own making. The shockwave ripples across the field, heat washing over her.
The other caster panics and slams his orb into the ground. Dark tendrils of magic spiral outward, pulling the shadows toward him in a vortex. He begins summoning something bigger.
Scout sprints as he hurls crescents of burning embers at her. She dives under them, rolling through the grass.
Just as the caster screams the final word of the spell, Scout leaps. Her knees crash into his chest.
She rips the orb from the ground and smashes it straight into his throat.
He falls backward, choking.
She rises, breathing hard, covered in goblin blood. Only a few goblins remain, scrabbling across the dirt in blind panic.
She reloads.
"I said not to run."
She fires, and two more die.
Another shot.
Two more drop.
She takes one step forward, draws back one last arrow, and fires into the last remaining dagger goblin.
The field goes still.
…
Elsewhere, Christian, panting and bleeding, faces the Goblin Commander; a brute with a horned helm and a jagged obsidian axe, taller than the average goblin.
The commander snarls and charges. Christian braces for impact, when a wave of golden light erupts across his body.
His system window opens:
[DAY 2 BEGINS]
[XP FROM DAY 1 CALCULATED]
[DISPERSING ACCUMULATED EXPERIENCE…]
[LEVEL UP!]
[LEVEL UP!]
[LEVEL UP!]
[LEVEL 4 ACHIEVED]
[ALL ABILITY SCORES +1]
Strength floods his limbs, and his stance steadies. His sword feels lighter.
He meets the commander's axe swing head-on, sparks showering the ground. Christian roars, then lunges, driving his blade into the commander's throat.
The goblin falls with a dull thud.
…
Scout stands in the center of the burning battlefield, looking up at the night sky. Her purple aura flickers around her like dying wildfire. Every goblin except the commander is dead at her feet.
After defeating the commander, Christian made his way back to the field. He wipes his blade along his gauntlet, then looks at her properly for the first time.
Christian lowers his sword, exhaustion etched across every line of his face.
"Scout… what happened to you?"
She meets his eyes, still catching her breath.
"I'm done running."
Christian blinks. "…No, I meant—"
He hesitates, then looks away. He covers part of his face with his hand. "Why are you… half naked?"
Scout freezes, and her aura dissolves instantly.
She looks down and realizes—oh god—her shirt is unbuttoned, her cloak's missing, her bra is hanging on for dear life, and her pants zipper is open enough to be considered indecent exposure.
She makes a strangled noise and throws her hands across her chest and waist, face exploding into a hot red.
"I—I—THIS ISN'T—THEY—THEY WERE—!!" She chokes on her own words. "I WAS FIGHTING FOR MY LIFE AND ALSO VERY DISTRACTED—DON'T LOOK!"
"I'm not!" Christian blurts, immediately averting his eyes skyward.
He crouches, grabs something from the grass, then stands and holds it out to her without looking; her cloak. "I think this is yours."
Scout snatches it out of his hands, fumbling to wrap it around herself.
Christian coughs into his fist, face still red. "You're, uh… decent. Mostly."
"Mostly?!" she squeaks.
But before she can spiral into full humiliation, her knees buckle. Christian catches her before she hits the ground. She stiffens in surprise, then slumps against him, the adrenaline falling away all at once. Her limbs feel heavy.
"Easy now." His voice is grounding. "You've done more than enough."
He lifts her into his arms.
Scout yelps, immediately covering her face with both hands. "Christian— I can walk— probably— maybe— just give me a minute—"
"Nope." He adjusts her more securely, ignoring her weak flailing. "You're exhausted. You're not walking anywhere."
"I'm not that tired…"
Her head drops limply against his shoulder.
"…okay, maybe I am."
As he carries her across the ravaged field, he glances toward the school building. Through the boarded windows, dozens of eyes stare out.
Christian's jaw tightens, shooting them a venomous glare. The students recoil behind the boards like scared animals.
Cowards.
He turns away. "She's sleeping in the dugout tonight," he mutters. "Not in a building full of people who didn't lift a finger to help her."
Scout mumbles something incoherent in response—something like "mm'kay"—and curls slightly closer to him.
He pauses, his eyes softening as he finally gets a clearer look at her face.
Two long scars—one running horizontally from cheek to cheek, one running vertically under her left eye. The wounds are already sealed and smooth, healed by her sudden level surge.
He swallows, not wanting to comment.
As he carries her the rest of the way, her breathing evens out. Christian shifts her weight gently in his arms.
"…Thank you," he whispers.