Lemigas first took a careful advancing step, his foot splashing in the water but the sound hidden by the pouring rain. Seeing the goblin was yet to notice him, he hastened his steps, pushing his wailing legs as he raced into the attack.
"Haahhhhh!!"
The goblin turned late. Lemigas caught it on the neck with a wide slash; but the weight behind the attack was so poor that it only wounded, rather than sliced.
The momentum, however, pushed the goblin, hurling it into a tree. Lemigas cried in frustration, rain dripping down his face as he pushed again into an attack.
He raised his shortsword to cleave the small monster but it quickly parried his blow, causing him to stumble to the side. The beast slashed right but Lemigas scurried away in time.
It chased after him, relentless, snarling like a mad predator as it dragged its blade towards an assault of attacks. Lemigas retreated, using his shortsword to weakly block the beast's slashes.
The difference in strength between a Level One Goblin and an ordinary human was vast, but Level One Goblins were still abrasive, unrefined and weak beasts. Their attacks were easier to defend compared to most beasts, but the strength differential was still Lemigas's struggling point.
The goblin pressed its advantage, slashing wildly, the impact of each attack jarring Lemigas's arms up into his wounded chest. Another came low, aimed at his belly. Lemigas twisted, felt the blade graze his hip, tearing through fabric and skin.
It was a close call.
He stumbled backward over a root, catching himself before he could fall. The goblin lunged again, its yellow teeth bared, spittle mixing with rain. It swung overhead like it was chopping wood.
Lemigas raised his sword horizontally but the force drove him to one knee. Mud splashed up around him. All the injuries in his body cried for him to stop.
The goblin raised its blade for a killing blow.
Ding!
A new notification bloomed in the air to his left, the feminine voice thrumming in his chest.
[ Unit, Amnet, has successfully defeated a goblin ]
Lemigas's eyes went wide.
Amnet too.
That was two. Two of the three who had run into the forest had killed their beasts and crossed whatever invisible line separated the unawakened from the awakened.
And here he was, kneeling in the mud, about to become a corpse.
No.
The goblin's blade came down. Lemigas threw himself sideways, rolling through water and muck, feeling his leg wound tear wider. The sword bit into the earth where his head had been.
He scrambled up, gasping, and ran.
Not away—he couldn't run away anymore. But toward the sound of rushing water he'd heard in the distance. A creek just nearby.
The goblin shrieked behind him and gave chase.
Lemigas pumped his arms, his limp worsening with every step. The trees thinned. The ground grew softer, then wetter, then treacherous. He burst through a curtain of hanging vines and found it.
It was indeed a creek; brown and churning, swollen from the downpour. Lemigas turned in time to see the goblin leap right at his face. He blocked its slice with the flat of his sword, but the momentum threw him into the narrow river.
Cold! So deathly cold. The current seized him instantly, spinning him head over feet. He lost his sword—felt it torn from his grip, gone into the murk.
Waves splashed over his face, leaving him no room to breath. His lungs seized and his wounds stung. Thankfully, Lemigas knew how to swim.
He surfaced just long enough to choke in a breath before the river dragged him under again.
Then something heavy slammed into his back.
The goblin.
It had jumped too. And now it was on him.
Lemigas twisted in the water, claws raking across his shoulder. The beast's weight pushed him down, down toward the rocky bottom. He saw its face through the brown water—contorted, furious, terrified.
It didn't want to be in the river any more than he did. But it wanted him dead more.
They surfaced together, tangled, the current hurling them downstream. Thankfully, the goblin seemed to have also lost its sword.
Its hands found his throat, squeezing. But Lemigas grabbed its wrists, groaning defiantly as he held them back. The nails dug into his neck, but the pain was nothing comparable to the sting of losing.
Lemigas's eyes snapped open, searching for anything he could use. A rock loomed ahead; massive and solid, jutting from the river like a broken tooth.
And the current was driving them straight toward it.
Lemigas squinted his eyes at the rock, then noticed a ledge pointing out of its rock face like a spear. It must have been sheared by centuries of water into something almost like a blade.
Right then, a desperate idea blazed in his mind.
He let go of one of the goblin's wrists. The beast's free hand shot forward, claws raking across his face—left cheek, right cheek, across his forehead—pain like hot wires, blood mixing with river water.
Lemigas's vision became haze. He felt skin hanging loose on his face but he didn't let go of the other wrist.
Soon enough, the goblin realized what he was doing. Its yellow eyes went wide. It snarled, thrashed, and tried to push away.
But the current was too strong. And Lemigas's grip—fueled with determination—was stronger.
Lemigas grabbed the goblin by both shoulders now, fingers digging into its green, slick flesh. He turned them in the water—heaving, straining, his chest on fire—until the goblin's back was to the stone.
The beast roared, assaulting Lemigas's nose with the stench of its forgotten meals. It clawed at his face again, opening new wounds, blood streaming down into his eyes, his mouth, his chin.
Through the red streams on his face, Lemigas glared at the frightened goblin with finality, resolve and near-mad determination.
"I... never lose," he muttered.
The current hurled them forward. The goblin screamed and thrashed but Lemigas held it in place.
And then... SKKKKSSSSHHH!!!
The stone ledge punched through the goblin's stomach—through flesh, through organs, through spine—and kept going until it stopped an inch from Lemigas's face.
The goblin's scream cut off. Its body jerked a couple final times and as Lemigas watched, the light in its yellow eyes faded away. Blood poured from its mouth, down the stone, into the churning water.
Lemigas held the corpse for a long moment, then he let go, letting his head rest on the bloody ledge.
The goblin stayed where it was—impaled, anchored, dead. Lemigas let out the heaviest breath of his life, overwhelmed by relief and the rush of a hard fought victory.
The current pushed against him, but the goblin's body wedged between him and the rock held him in place. Then the adrenaline wore off. The pain, the dizziness, it all came rushing in and his eyelids suddenly felt like stones.
Ding!
The feminine voice sounded happier than usual.
[ Congratulations! You have killed a Lvl 1 Goblin Scavenger. ]
[ You have successfully passed the tutorial floor. You are all set for your awakening! ]
Lemigas tried to stay awake, but his consciousness faded fast. However, even in the void of his subconscious, the voice still reached him.
[ Please receive your blessings from the World Lords! ]
[ You have awakened a unique Class. ]
[ Even the dead deserve to be entertained. And if you put on a good show, you shall be rewarded with powerful Skills and Items. ]
[ Unit, Lemigas, you have awakened the Class, Spirit Streamer! ]