Osric slowed for half a step as the blue screen fully formed before his eyes.
The forest pressed in around them—branches arching overhead, light breaking unevenly through leaves—but the System's presence cut cleanly through it all, crisp and absolute.
He read.
Challenge: Active
Objective:
Complete the secret D-rank mission issued by the Adventurers' Guild.
Osric's eyes sharpened.
So that was how the System classified it.
Not a hunt.
Not an encounter.
A mission.
The screen shifted.
Extra Objective:
Deal the killing blow to the hobgoblin.
Osric exhaled slowly through his nose.
That wouldn't be simple.
This wasn't a solo fight. George, Erica, and Roman were meant to handle the hobgoblin directly. The System was asking him to do something that might conflict with formation, timing—or trust.
He continued reading.
Rewards:
Combat Instinct (E) → (D)
His focus narrowed.
That alone was enormous.
A full rank increase. Not "minor progress." Not incremental growth.
A leap.
The final line appeared beneath it.
Extra Reward:
New Skill
Osric dismissed the screen without hesitation.
No one around him noticed a thing.
The group kept moving, boots crunching softly against leaves and soil. George and Erica whispered ahead, voices low and controlled. Roman followed behind them, posture rigid, tension barely contained. William was still talking quietly at Osric's side, unaware that anything had changed.
But everything had.
This challenge wasn't about survival.
It wasn't even about success.
It was about timing, restraint, and choice.
Osric adjusted his grip on his sword and let his senses stretch into the forest once more.
If he chased the extra objective blindly, someone could die.
If he ignored it entirely, the opportunity would never come again.
And the System would not care which choice he made.
Somewhere ahead, the injured hobgoblin waited.
And when iron finally met flesh, Osric would have to decide—not as a lone fighter, but as part of something larger—whether power was worth the cost of reaching for it.
Osric felt it before he heard it.
The forest tightened around them as they pushed deeper—steps shorter, breaths quieter, weapons kept low but ready. No one spoke now. Even William's earlier chatter had faded into focused silence.
Osric let his senses stretch.
Too far.
Too clean.
That was the problem.
There were no birds. No rustling of small animals retreating from their path. The forest wasn't holding its breath—it had already gone still.
His thoughts were just beginning to settle into that realization when sound reached him.
Not one source.
Several.
Soft, irregular noises layered together—leather shifting, breath drawn through teeth, the faint scrape of metal on wood.
Living creatures.
Osric's jaw tightened.
Goblins.
He leaned forward and whispered to the man just ahead of him.
"Roman," Osric said quietly. "There are enemies in front of us."
Roman didn't even slow.
"Shut up," he muttered back without turning. "You hear things because you're nervous."
Osric exhaled once.
"They're close," he said again, voice calm. "Multiple."
Roman clicked his tongue, irritation sharp. He waved a dismissive hand. "I said shut up."
Osric fell silent.
Half a minute passed.
Then the forest exploded forward.
Four goblins burst from the brush ahead, daggers flashing as they lunged straight for George and Erica.
Iron rang.
George stepped into the first strike and cut a goblin down in one clean motion. Erica's spear flashed twice—fast, precise—piercing throat and chest in a heartbeat. The remaining two barely managed a scream before George and Erica finished them, sword and spear working with brutal efficiency.
The entire exchange lasted seconds.
Bodies hit the ground.
Silence returned.
Everyone behind George stared—William wide-eyed, Roman stiff with surprise, even Erica's expression tightening just a fraction.
Only Osric hadn't moved.
Roman turned sharply, jaw clenched.
"…Tch."
Osric said nothing.
George wiped his blade quickly and looked ahead, then back over the group.
"That confirms it," he said. "We move faster from here on. It's only a matter of time before the hobgoblin realizes his underlings aren't reporting back." His gaze hardened. "Weapons out. Stay alert."
They picked up the pace.
The tension sharpened.
After a few minutes of faster movement, Osric heard it again—heavier this time. Not hidden. Not cautious.
Waiting.
He stepped closer to Roman once more.
"Tell George," Osric said quietly. "Enemies ahead."
Roman hesitated.
Then, without a word, he moved forward and leaned toward George. He spoke low, urgent—but he didn't glance back at Osric.
George slowed and raised a fist.
The group froze.
He frowned slightly—not at the warning, but at the source. Roman noticing something before him was… unusual. George was an apprentice knight. His senses should have caught it first.
He pushed the thought aside.
"Positions," George whispered.
They spread behind the trees at the forest's edge and peered ahead.
The clearing opened before them.
Fourteen goblins were gathered loosely across it—some standing, some crouched, weapons in hand. And at the center, sitting casually on a low boulder, was the hobgoblin.
One arm missing.
The other hand held a sword.
A familiar sword.
Roman saw it.
The blade turned lazily in the hobgoblin's grip, its edge catching light as if in mockery. Roman's breath hitched. His grip tightened until the leather of his shield creaked.
George felt it immediately.
So did Osric.
'No,' George thought.
Roman stepped forward.
Then he broke into a run.
Shield raised. Sword out. Face twisted with pure, unrestrained hatred.
"Shit," George hissed.
He didn't hesitate.
"Everyone—charge!" George barked. "Remember your roles!"
Weapons were already coming free.
Erica moved instantly, spear lowering as she sprinted. Laurent shifted to the flank, eyes cold and focused. Osric drew his sword smoothly, annoyance flashing through him—not at Roman alone, but at himself.
He'd seen this coming.
And he'd done nothing to stop it.
As the group surged forward and the clearing erupted into chaos, Osric pushed the thought aside and moved.
Regret could wait.
Survival couldn't.