I'd forgotten how much walking sucked.
Four kilometers down this dirt path and my bare feet were screaming at me. The forest stretched endlessly in both directions, tall pines blocking most of the sunlight. Birds chirped overhead, bugs buzzed around my face, and somewhere in the distance water was flowing.
Under normal circumstances, I'd have my earbuds in, blasting music to drown out nature's annoying little soundtrack. But surprise—no phone, no earbuds, no civilization.
My hand twitched toward my pocket for the fifth time in as many minutes. Right. No phone. That was going to be a problem. Four years of pavlovian training had my fingers searching for a device that didn't exist every thirty seconds.
"God, I'm so fucked," I muttered, kicking a rock off the path.
The worst part wasn't even the lack of Google Maps. It was knowing that Mrs. Peterson was probably wondering where I was. I'd been on my way to her place when the truck hit me. She'd made her special tiramisu, which meant she wanted something special in return.
Now she'd never know what happened to me. None of them would.
"Wonder if they'll miss me," I said to the trees. "Or just miss my services."
I laughed at my own joke because no one else was around to appreciate it.
The silence was making me crazy. Back on Earth, I couldn't remember the last time I'd gone five minutes without digital stimulation. Now I was facing hours of nothing but my thoughts and these endless trees.
I started whistling to fill the void—an old song my mom used to play when I was a kid. Something about hotel California. The tune echoed through the trees, scaring a few birds into flight.
At least whistling gave me something to focus on besides my throbbing feet and growling stomach. Speaking of hunger...
A strange sensation washed over me, like someone had turned up the contrast on all my senses. The air felt thicker, my skin more sensitive. My mouth began to water, an involuntary reaction to... something.
Was this the Incubus Hunger kicking in? But there wasn't anyone around to—
A scream cut through the forest, high and panicked. Then another sound—a horrible shrieking noise like metal scraping against metal.
"KREEEEE!"
What the hell was that?
My first instinct was to run—preferably in the opposite direction from whatever made that sound. But this was a fantasy world, right? And I was supposedly some kind of demon. Maybe I should investigate?
I took inventory of my combat capabilities:
No weapons
No armor
No fighting experience
Level 1 with baby stats
Yep, I was what gamers called a "trash mob." The kind of enemy that exists solely to give actual heroes their first experience points.
But my curiosity was stronger than my self-preservation. Plus, that watering sensation in my mouth hadn't stopped. If anything, it had intensified.
I crept toward the commotion, moving as quietly as possible through the underbrush. The trees thinned ahead, revealing a small clearing with what looked like a merchant's wagon overturned on its side.
Five small, green creatures swarmed around two human men in leather armor. Goblins. Because of course there were goblins. Why wouldn't there be goblins?
One of the humans was already down, a crude spear sticking out of his chest. The other was fighting desperately, swinging a short sword with increasing panic as the goblins closed in.
"Get back, you filthy rats!" he shouted, voice cracking with fear.
The goblins responded with more of those ear-splitting "KREEEE" sounds.
I stayed hidden behind a large tree trunk, watching the scene unfold. The guard didn't stand a chance. Within seconds, he was overwhelmed, dragged to the ground by three goblins while a fourth drove a rusty knife into his throat.
Brutal.
But what really caught my attention was the cage attached to the wagon. Inside were two figures—a woman and a young boy, maybe eight or nine years old. They were huddled together, the woman's arms wrapped protectively around the child as they watched the slaughter with wide, terrified eyes.
The woman was... well, beautiful wasn't quite right. Striking, maybe. Mid-thirties with silver hair pulled back in a practical braid, skin tanned from outdoor work. She wore simple clothes, patched in several places, but carried herself with a dignity that seemed at odds with her circumstances.
And she was glowing.
Not literally, not with physical light. But to my new senses, she radiated warmth like a banked fire. Mana Saturation, accumulated over years of... something. Experience, survival, endurance.
My mouth watered again, stronger this time. A hunger that had nothing to do with food twisted in my gut.
The goblins turned toward the cage, chittering excitedly. One of them, slightly larger than the others with a crude metal helmet, gestured toward the prisoners and barked something in a language I couldn't understand.
That's when I noticed the mark on the woman's neck—a small, intricate symbol etched into her skin. A slave crest.
Well, shit.
So either these two were being transported as slaves, or they were criminals being moved between prisons. Either way, they were definitely in trouble now.
What should I do here? The moral calculus wasn't clear. If she was a slave, maybe she'd committed crimes to earn that status. Or maybe she was just born poor in a fucked-up world where that was enough to lose your freedom.
The kid complicated things. He looked scared out of his mind, face buried against her side.
I couldn't just walk away, could I?
But I also couldn't take on five goblins with my bare hands and level 1 stats.
The goblins were working on the cage lock now, taking turns smashing it with rocks while the woman pulled the boy deeper into the corner.
I needed a plan. Something clever. Something that wouldn't get me immediately killed.
The goblin leader barked another order, and two of them ran to the front of the wagon, returning with a small iron chest. They smashed it open, revealing a handful of coins and what looked like jewelry.
So they were distracted. Good.
I scanned the clearing, noting the dead guards' weapons. If I could somehow get to that sword...
But then something else caught my eye. The woman was staring right at me.
Not at the goblins. Not at the dead guards. At me, hiding behind my tree like a coward.
Her eyes met mine across the clearing—green and surprisingly calm given the circumstances. No panic, just a steady, measuring gaze.
She saw me. And she wasn't screaming for help.
Instead, she tilted her head slightly toward the goblins, then back to me, raising her eyebrows just a fraction.
Was she... asking if I was going to help? Or warning me to stay away?
===
A/N: Thanks for reading this chapter! Support by adding to your library and giving a power stone or two. (∿°○°)∿ ︵ ︵ ︵ ︵ ︵ ǝʌol