I sheathed the hunting knife onto the leather belt circling my tunic. I tucked the pistol into my pants pocket—luckily, it was deep enough, though the weight made walking feel a bit awkward. I tore up and folded the cardboard shipping box, stashing it behind some bushes—just in case it came in handy later.
The sun had nearly set. The sky above the canopy shifted to a deep purple, and the forest shadows stretched longer, creating illusions of shapeless monsters lurking behind tree trunks. The sound of crickets began to take over, replacing the birdsong.
I walked along the riverbank. Basic logic dictated that settlements were usually built near water sources. If I followed this river flow, sooner or later I'd find civilization. Whether it was a beautiful Elf village or a run-down human shack, I didn't care. What mattered was a roof over my head and, hopefully, information.
My small feet felt heavy on the muddy ground. Every time I stepped on a dry twig, the sound rang like an explosion in my tense ears. I stayed alert, eyes scanning my surroundings, hand never straying far from the pistol grip in my pocket.
After about an hour of walking, my feet started to hurt. This kid's body really had no stamina. I was panting, white steam coming out of my mouth every time I exhaled. The night air was starting to feel bone-chilling.
Suddenly, I smelled something.
The scent of smoke. Not the smoke of a forest fire, but the distinct smell of firewood. The aroma of a controlled burn.
My heart pounded. Humans? Or Elves?
I slowed down, moving more carefully. I hid behind a massive mossy tree trunk, peeking ahead.
In the distance, about a hundred meters ahead, I saw a flickering orange light. A campfire.
I squinted, trying to make out who was there.
Three figures sat around the fire. They wore rough, dirty leather armor. Beside them lay primitive weapons—wooden spears with rusty iron tips and dull short swords.
Their appearance... was grotesque. Dull green skin, long hooked noses, and pointed but tattered ears. They only stood about waist-high to an adult, but their muscles looked dense and wiry.
Goblins.
They were literal goblins. Classic level-one monsters in every RPG. But seeing them in person... that was a different experience. Their smell—a mix of rancid sweat, dried blood, and feces—drifted on the wind to my spot, making my stomach churn. They were cackling with annoying, high-pitched voices while poking something over the fire.
I swallowed hard, trying to suppress my disgust as I realized what they were roasting. It was... a rabbit's leg. At least, I hoped it was a rabbit.
"Damn," I whispered softly. "First obstacle."
I could have detoured, avoided them entirely. The forest was huge. But my stomach growled again, louder this time, protesting the torturous hunger. The instant noodles in my bag (I'd made a makeshift bag out of the leftover cardboard) were tempting, but I needed hot water. And those goblins had fire. Plus, maybe they had valuables I could sell to the System.
It's a gamble, I thought. Three goblins against one kid with a pistol. Should be easy, right?
I pulled the Glock 17 from my pocket. The cold metal gave me a bit of courage. I checked the slide, ensuring a round was chambered. The suppressor was attached firmly.
Remember the FPS training. Aim for the head. Stay calm. Breathe.
I crept closer, using the bushes for cover. I was now only fifty meters away. Close enough for a pistol.
I aimed at the goblin sitting closest to me. He was busy chewing on meat, his back to me. The perfect target.
My hand shook slightly. This wasn't a game. If I pulled this trigger, I'd be killing a living thing. For real.
But if I don't do it, they might find me and kill me. Or worse... ah, shit, don't think about that. They're monsters. Pests.
I held my breath, stabilizing my aim. The iron sight at the end of the pistol aligned with the bald goblin's head.
Click.
Trigger pulled.
PFFT!
The gunshot was extremely quiet, just like a sharp hiss of wind.
The goblin's head jerked forward. Red blood spurred out, splashing into the campfire. His body collapsed instantly, falling onto the fire and extinguishing some of the embers.
The other two goblins jumped in shock. They screamed in a language that sounded like growls and snorts, watching their friend drop dead. They drew their weapons, their wild yellow eyes scanning the surroundings in panic.
"One," I counted in my head. Adrenaline flooded my body, stopping my hands from shaking. My focus sharpened.
I aimed at the second goblin who was standing there confused, holding a spear.
PFFT!
The bullet pierced his neck. The goblin clutched his throat, a horrific gurgling sound escaping his mouth as he fell to his knees, then slumped over.
The third goblin, who seemed to be the leader due to his slightly larger size and bone necklace, finally spotted me. He screamed in rage, pointing his short sword at me, then charged.
"Kiiiieeekkk!"
His speed shocked me. He was way faster than I expected. That fifty-meter distance was shrinking rapidly.
"Shit!"
I aimed again, but he zigzagged, his animal instincts kicking in. My first shot missed, hitting the dirt beside his feet. The second shot hit his shoulder, making him stumble but not stop.
He was close. Ten meters. I could see saliva dripping from his sharp yellow teeth. His stench assaulted my nose.
Five meters. He leaped, sword raised high.
Panic took over. I didn't aim anymore. I just pointed the barrel at the green mass flying through the air and pulled the trigger as fast as I could.
PFFT! PFFT! PFFT!
Three rapid shots.
Two bullets hit his chest. One more landed right in the middle of his forehead.
The goblin's body jerked in mid-air, his momentum halting instantly as if he hit an invisible wall. He fell just one meter in front of me, his sword flying out of his hand and landing near my feet.
Silence.
Only the sound of my ragged breathing filled my ears. My heart was beating so hard it hurt.
I stood there, staring at the goblin corpse in front of me. Red blood pooled around his head, soaking into the earth.
"I... killed him," I whispered.
There was no nausea. No deep guilt like I had imagined. Maybe because they were monsters. Or maybe because the adrenaline was still too high. All I felt was immense relief. I was alive.
I holstered my pistol back into my pocket, then walked over to the campfire. I gently kicked the first goblin corpse off the fire so the embers wouldn't die out completely.
"System," I called.
The blue holographic screen appeared again. I navigated to the "Sell" menu.
I picked up the short sword belonging to the leader goblin. The blade was rough, jagged, and slightly rusty, but the handle was made of crudely carved bone.
[Low-Quality Goblin Sword]
Description: Crude weapon made by goblins. Poor quality, but has primitive artistic value.
Sell Price: 5 Points.
"Five points? So stingy," I complained. But 5 points was better than zero. I sold it. The sword vanished in a flash of blue light, and my balance increased.
I searched the other two goblins. Rusty spear (3 Points), meat cleaver (2 Points), and bone necklace (1 Point). Total 11 Points. Barely enough to cover the cost of the bullets I used.
"Operating at a loss," I muttered with a sigh.
"I shouldn't have fired blindly earlier."
I sat near the campfire, feeling the comforting warmth spread through my chilled body. I pulled the instant noodle cup out of my cardboard "bag."
"Now the problem is... hot water."
I looked around. Near the fire, there was a dented metal pot the goblins had been using. Inside lay... I don't know, thick brown soup with suspicious chunks. I dumped it onto the ground without hesitation. Just the smell made me dizzy.
I walked to the river, scrubbed the pot as clean as possible using river sand and water, rubbing until my hands went stiff from the cold. Once I was sure it was clean enough (or at least not poisonous), I filled it with clear river water and brought it back to the fire.
While waiting for the water to boil, I took out my new knife and started whittling a twig to make chopsticks.
The night grew later. The surrounding forest was pitch black, a solid wall of darkness enclosing the small light of this campfire. Sounds of nocturnal animals began to emerge—wolf howls in the distance, owls screeching.
But for now, I was safe. I had a weapon. I had fire. And soon, I would eat instant noodles.
The water started to boil. I poured it into the cup noodles, covering it tightly with a warm flat stone. The familiar aroma of chicken onion seasoning began to waft up, overpowering the smell of the forest and goblin blood. It was the scent of heaven. The scent of home.
Three minutes later, I opened the lid. Hot steam puffed into my face. I shoved the first bite of noodles into my mouth.
The taste was mediocre. MSG, salt, and flour. But to me, right now, in the middle of a strange and dangerous other world, this was the most delicious meal I had ever tasted in my life.
"Bon appétit," I whispered to myself, tears slightly welling up in the corners of my eyes.
I finished the noodles down to the last drop of broth. My body felt warm from the inside. Drowsiness started to attack, heavy and unbearable.
I couldn't sleep here. Too exposed. These goblin corpses would attract predators.
I extinguished the fire by dousing it with leftover river water, making sure no embers remained lit. I packed my things.
I walked away from the goblin campsite, looking for a large tree with low but sturdy branches. I found one about two hundred meters away. A giant oak tree with intertwining limbs.
With some difficulty, I climbed up. This small body turned out to be quite agile. I found a comfortable nook between two large branches, high enough off the ground to avoid wolves, but hidden enough by the foliage.
I tied myself to the tree trunk using leftover plastic twine from the box—a precaution against falling while asleep.
I leaned against the rough tree trunk, hugging my knees. The Glock lay in my lap, my hand gripping it tight.
Through the gaps in the leaves above, I could see the night sky.
Not the sky I knew.
The stars were different. Unfamiliar constellations. And there were two moons. One large and pale silver, the other one small and silver as well, hanging low on the eastern horizon.
"Two moons," I murmured softly. "Definitely another world."
I stared at that silver moon.
"My name..."
I suddenly realized I hadn't thought of a name for my new self. My old name... somehow it didn't feel right anymore. Besides, using an Indonesian name in this world would feel weird.
I needed a new name.
I remembered the nickname from my favorite game.
"Liam Ashford," I whispered to the night wind.
"From now on, my name is Liam Ashford."
My eyelids grew heavy. Accompanied by the sounds of the alien forest and the light of the two moons above, I finally fell asleep.