The first quest of the Hero's party should have been simple—culling a nest of goblins near the village of Draymoor. At least, that was how Aldric described it while polishing his gleaming longsword.
"Goblins are beneath us," the Hero declared as they trekked through the woods. "But the villagers begged the church, and the church begged me. What sort of Hero would I be if I refused their pleas?"
Kael trudged behind, burdened with three overstuffed sacks. Pots clanged against iron spikes, rope coils tangled with bundles of dried meat. His assassin-trained body handled weight well, but Aldric had made sure the load was excessive.
The knight Garron chuckled. "Careful you don't topple, boy."
Serenya, the mage, didn't even look his way. "He's already more useful than I expected. He hasn't fainted yet."
Kael said nothing. He'd spent the night experimenting, running dagger forms until his arms burned. By dawn, his proficiency had doubled. Already he felt his stance shift from clumsy mimicry to efficient motion. The system whispered confirmation:
[Swordsmanship Lv.3 → Lv.4]
No one noticed. Good.
The forest grew thick. Tracks littered the soil—clawed footprints, drag marks, gnawed bones. Goblins were messy eaters.
"Stay behind me," Aldric commanded, his sword catching sunlight. "When I charge, you follow."
"Try not to overextend," Lyria said gently. "Goblins swarm when provoked."
"Ha!" Aldric puffed out his chest. "I've felled beasts ten times stronger than goblins."
Kael nearly rolled his eyes. For all his bluster, the Hero's stance was shallow—telegraphed, wasteful. Against a real assassin, Aldric wouldn't last a heartbeat.
A shriek cut through the trees. Then came dozens more.
The goblins poured out from the undergrowth—filthy green bodies, jagged spears, rotten teeth glinting with drool. A dozen at least.
"Perfect." Aldric grinned and charged. His sword swept in a wide arc, cleaving two goblins in half. Garron followed, shield raised, bellowing a war cry. Serenya muttered incantations, fire bursting from her staff to ignite the brush.
Kael dropped the baggage against a tree. The healer remained close, whispering prayers of protection.
And then a scream.
From the rear of the swarm, three goblins broke past the melee, darting toward Lyria. She stumbled, panic in her eyes.
Kael's hand closed around a dagger. His body moved before thought—silent, precise, trained by years of shadow. He lunged.
Steel flashed.
One goblin's throat opened beneath his blade. Another thrust its spear, but Kael twisted aside, jamming his weapon under its ribs. The third raised a club—Kael caught its wrist, snapped it with a sickening crack, then buried steel between its eyes.
The fight lasted seconds.
[Dagger Mastery Lv.1 → Lv.3]
[Poise Acquired] – Maintain calm during combat. Resistance to fear effects ×2.
Kael exhaled. His body hummed with energy. [Develop] wasn't just faster learning—it was evolution compressed into moments.
Lyria stared, wide-eyed. "You… you saved me."
He forced a smile, casual. "Someone had to."
Before more could be said, Aldric's voice thundered. "Loader! What are you doing away from the baggage?!"
Kael slipped his dagger back into his belt. "They almost reached the healer. Thought it best to intervene."
Aldric sneered. "Don't get ideas above your station. You're baggage, not a warrior."
Serenya's cold gaze lingered on the corpses. "Strange. Those kills looked… practiced. More than a porter should know."
Kael only shrugged, bending to hoist the sacks again. "Lucky stabs."
The knight laughed heartily. "If luck kills goblins that cleanly, I'll take it."
But Lyria's eyes followed Kael long after the battle ended.
By nightfall, the goblin nest was destroyed. The party celebrated around a roaring fire, roasting meat from the hunt. Aldric basked in praise, recounting each kill as though the others hadn't fought beside him.
Kael sat at the edge of the light, cleaning his dagger.
Every motion made the skill notification glow again. Faster. Stronger. More efficient.
In his old world, betrayal had ended him. Here, he would cultivate strength beyond imagining. He would play the weak loader, invisible, underestimated—until the moment it suited him to reveal the blade again.
For now, he let Aldric boast, Serenya scorn, Garron bellow, and Lyria smile softly in his direction.
They had no idea what they had brought into their midst.