The rhythmic *thwip-thwip-thwip* was nearly imperceptible, a sound so faint it would have been entirely swallowed by the crackle of the campfire for any ordinary human. But to Ethan's maximized perception, it cut through the valley's ambient noise like a blade striking iron.
He tilted his head slightly, his gaze piercing through the thick green foliage toward the upper branches of a massive, ancient oak tree that overhung the dirt road.
There, camouflaged perfectly against the rough bark and dark moss, crouched three humanoids. They were smaller than a grown man, their lean limbs covered in mottled, gray-green scales instead of skin. Their faces were flat, dominated by large, unblinking black eyes, and their slender fingers ended in curved, obsidian talons. They held short, curved bows made of blackened wood, and the tips of their notched arrows glistened with a thick, sickly green resin.
Ethan's eyes narrowed as the translucent system text shifted over the hidden figures.
[Target: Forest Kobold Archer (Level 3).]
[Target: Forest Kobold Archer (Level 3).]
[Target: Forest Kobold Scout (Level 4).]
[Threat Level: Low.]
They were waiting. The scout was tracking the movements of the mercenary guards below, waiting for the exact moment the perimeter rotation left the merchant exposed.
Down by the wagon, the older merchant let out a loud, satisfied sigh, slamming a heavy leather coin pouch onto the wooden table. "Alright, that's the final count for the West-Gate toll," he called out, his voice carrying clearly up the ridge. "Gerard, tell the boys to douse the fire. If we push through the lower valley before dusk, we'll hit the town walls before the gates lock."
The lead guard, a burly man with a scarred jaw and a dented iron breastplate, turned around. "Right then. Look alive, lads! Pack it up!"
The moment the guards turned their backs to the tree canopy to tend to the campfire, the Kobold scout dropped its hand.
Three bows twanged simultaneously.
*Thwip!*
The black wood arrows tore through the air. The first two struck the mercenary named Gerard right in the seam of his shoulder armor, the venom-tipped iron heads piercing deep. He let out a choked gasp, his spear clattering against the gravel as his knees instantly buckled from the rapid-acting toxin. The third arrow struck the secondary guard square in the thigh.
"Ambush!" the remaining guard screamed, drawing a short sword from his hip, his eyes darting wildly toward the dense bushes on the roadside. But he was looking in the wrong direction.
From the high branches, the three Kobolds dropped down like stones, landing gracefully on the canvas roof of the merchant wagon. The scout pulled a jagged, bone-handled dagger from its belt, its large black eyes fixed entirely on the terrified merchant, who had fallen backward off his stool, scattering silver coins into the dirt.
Up on the ridge, Ethan's muscles coiled instinctively.
[Dynamic Event Detected: Caravan Raid.]
[Passive Multiplier status: Standby (Isolation condition currently unverified).]
[Notice: Assisting external entities will expose your physical capabilities to witnesses. Evaluate the risk of termination.]
The system's warning was clear and unyielding. If he jumped down there and wiped out the Kobolds with the terrifying speed of a Tier 1 peak combatant, the surviving guards and the merchant would see it. Questions would follow. The local authorities would investigate how a mud-covered youth possessed that kind of lethal force.
But if he did nothing, the caravan would be slaughtered, and the only potential source of information about this world would be wiped out.
Ethan looked down at his own caked-mud robes and then at the scattered silver coins in the dirt. He didn't need to show them his full power. He just needed to use enough of it to tip the scales while playing the part of a desperate, panicked survivor.
He didn't jump down the cliff face. Instead, he grabbed a heavy, jagged stone from the ridge, let out a loud, deliberate scream of pure terror, and went tumbling down the steep dirt slope—making as much noise as humanly possible.
"Help! Monsters! There are monsters everywhere!" Ethan shrieked, deliberately flailing his arms as he slid into the valley, ensuring he looked entirely like a victim fleeing for his life.
The Kobold scout paused on the wagon roof, its flat head snapping toward the sudden noise on the ridge. The remaining guard turned his head as well, his face pale with sweat.
To them, it looked like a terrified civilian running away from a disaster. They had no idea that beneath the muddy, torn academic robes, every single one of Ethan's physical attributes was already wound like a steel spring, waiting to snap.