<div>
Three days slipped by in the thicket’s shadowed embrace, each one a slow grind of survival and scheming beneath the towering pine. Gale worked in the hollow’s dim light, his hands stained with dirt and sap, reinforcing his base with layers of rune magic. He etched Hide Deep Forest—[? ? ?]—into the granite slab and roots, burning through manifested crystals until the hollow shimmered, its edges blurring into the pines and brambles like a mirage swallowed by the wild. The air within grew stiller, the brambles thickening under the enchantment’s touch, their thorns weaving tighter until the entrance was a near-impenetrable veil, pierced only by the faint plink of the water trickle seeping from the hillside.
Rest came in fits, sprawled on the needle-strewn floor, the granite slab cold against his back as he slept off the last of his wounds. The enchanted bandages—long since peeled away—left scabs that flaked into scars, faint pink lines on his thigh and arm, tender but healed. His trap proved its worth, the Spike Earth Kill Rabbit Draw rune humming steadily, luring rabbits to their doom. Each day brought a fresh kill—small, twitching bodies impaled on the earthen spike, blood pooling in the dirt, their fur matted with the forest’s damp. He cooked them over a fire sparked by a new trick: a fist-sized stone etched with Flame Small Start—[? ? ?]—ignited with a crystal and a whispered command. The flames crackled low, licking at the rabbit flesh, filling the hollow with the smoky tang of char and fat, a scent that clung to his jeans and skin as he ate, tearing into the meat with stained fingers.
Between meals and rest, he scouted—cautious, deliberate, the Hide Blend Forest amulet softening his outline as he crept eastward to the ravine’s edge. From behind boulders and bramble thickets, he studied the kobold lair, its cave mouth a jagged scar framed by gnawed bones and trampled earth. The guards rotated, two at a time, their scales glinting in the sun, red eyes sharper at dusk. Scouts slipped out in pairs or trios, spears dripping ooze, hatchets swinging, their chittering a guttural hum that carried on the wind. They hunted rabbits, scavenged roots, dragged back kills—patterns he memorized, timings he noted, weaknesses he probed. Night brought more—their numbers swelled at the entrance, tails lashing, claws scraping as they grew bold under the dark. Thirty-seven, the quest said, and he counted each glimpse, mapping their rhythm.
By the third day, his body steadied—Health near full, Energy creeping back, the hollow a grim sanctuary. The short sword rested beside him, cleaned of gore, its runes gleaming faintly in the firelight. The tracking wand pulsed, the lair’s pull a constant itch, but he waited, planning offscreen tricks yet untested, his mind a quiet forge of attrition. The thicket rustled beyond the brambles, the fire’s embers dying to ash, and Gale sat, hazel eyes sharp, the war’s first move brewing in the silence.
[Status: Gale Harper]
<ul>
<li>Level: 1</li>
<li>Health: 95/100</li>
<li>Energy: 35/50</li>
<li>Stats:
<ul>
<li>Strength: 5</li>
<li>Endurance: 6</li>
<li>Dexterity: 6</li>
<li>Agility: 5</li>
<li>Vitality: 6</li>
<li>Wisdom: 5</li>
<li>Focus: 7</li>
<li>Intelligence: 5</li>
<li>Charisma: 5</li>
<li>Appearance: 5</li>
<li>Luck: 5</li>
</ul>
</li>
<li>Unspent Points: 0</li>
<li>Abilities: Crystal Manifestation (Rank 1)</li>
<li>Skills: Rune Etching (Rank 1), Basic Swordsmanship (Rank 1)</li>
</ul>
<div>
The fourth morning broke cold and gray, a thin fog threading through the thicket, muting the pine needles’ rustle to a whisper. Gale crouched in the hollow, the granite slab’s chill seeping into his knees, the short sword gripped in his right hand—its blade cleaned, runes glinting faintly in the dim light filtering through the bramble curtain. The air smelled of damp earth and the faint char of last night’s rabbit, its bones scattered near the fire-stone, still warm from the Flame Small Start rune. His jeans were stiff with dried blood and sap, the Hide Blend Forest amulet a cold weight against his bare chest, its enchantment softening his outline into the shadows. The tracking wand pulsed in his pocket, a steady tug eastward, where the kobold lair waited.
Three days had honed him—Health near full, Energy bolstered by rest and meat, the hollow a fortress veiled by Hide Deep Forest. He’d watched the kobolds, their patterns burned into his mind: scouts slipping out at dawn and dusk, pairs or trios, spears dripping ooze, returning with kills or empty-handed. Night swelled their numbers at the cave mouth, but day thinned them—guards drowsy, patrols sparse. “Hit them small,” he murmured, hazel eyes narrowing, analytical mind ticking. Attrition started here—a single strike, a test of his edge.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
He slipped out, the brambles parting silently under the hollow’s enchantment, thorns brushing his arms without snagging. The thicket swallowed him, pine branches clawing at his skin, leaving faint scratches that beaded with blood. The ravine loomed ahead, its walls a jagged scar in the hillside, the lair’s cave a dark yawn framed by gnawed bones—skulls and ribs, some disturbingly human, stacked in careless piles. He crouched behind a boulder, its surface rough with lichen, and peered out. Two guards stood at the entrance, scales glinting dully in the morning light, red eyes squinting against the sun. One leaned on a spear, its flint tip oozing green, while the other scratched at the dirt with a hatchet, tail twitching lazily.
A third kobold emerged, chittering low, its spear slung over its shoulder as it shuffled westward—alone, a scout breaking from the pack. Gale’s pulse quickened, a grim smile tugging his lips. “One down,” he whispered, the wand confirming its path matched his notes—toward a rabbit warren half a mile out. He crept after it, the amulet’s shimmer blending him with the pines, sneakers silent on the needle-strewn ground. The kobold moved sluggish, snout twitching, oblivious to the ghost trailing its shadow.
The terrain dipped into a shallow gully, brambles thinning to patchy grass, a cluster of burrows dotting the earth—rabbit tracks crisscrossing the dirt. The kobold paused, sniffing, spear raised as it scanned for prey. Gale ducked behind a stump, its bark peeling in wet strips, and weighed his move. The sword felt heavy, its rune-guided instinct a faint whisper in his grip, but he wasn’t here for a fair fight. “Lexicon,” he muttered, scrolling: earth, spike, kill, fast. “Spike Earth Kill Fast,” he decided, a quick end over a brawl.
“Manifest Crystal,” he rasped, the Sigil flaring, mana condensing into a jagged gem—his head buzzed, Energy dipping, but he clutched it tight. He scratched Spike Earth Kill Fast—[? ? ? ?]—into the dirt near the kobold, the sword’s tip grinding silently, hidden by the amulet’s veil. The crystal dissolved, the ground thrummed, and he ducked lower, breath held. The kobold stepped forward, snout low—and the earth erupted. A spike—jagged, stone-sharp—lanced up, punching through its gut with a wet crunch. Scales split, black blood sprayed in a rancid arc, guts spilling in a steaming tangle—ropy intestines slithering out, flecked with bile and half-digested meat. It shrieked, a high, gurgling wail that choked off as the spike twisted, shredding its innards into a pulpy mess. The body slumped, twitching, spear clattering beside it, ooze pooling in the grass with a faint hiss.
Gale exhaled, heart pounding, and crept closer. The stench hit—rot, bile, iron—as he pressed his Sigil to the corpse, harvesting a murky crystal, its green tint pulsing faintly. A window flickered, then flared brighter:
[EXP Gained: 25 (Stealth Kill)]
[Level Up! Level 1 → Level 2]
<ul>
<li>EXP: 0/200</li>
<li>Stat Points Gained: 5
[Quest Update: Clear the Kobold Lair]</li>
<li>Subquest Progress: 3/37 Kobold Scouts Eliminated</li>
</ul>
The Sigil burned, a sharp heat threading through his arm, his body tingling as the level-up took hold. “About time,” he grunted, mind racing—five points to spend, a chance to sharpen his edge. Focus first, his lifeline—two points there, honing his rune-crafting precision. The rest for his war: Endurance to outlast their numbers, Vitality to weather their claws, Agility to strike and slip away. He allocated them—1 to Endurance, 1 to Vitality, 1 to Agility—feeling a subtle shift: his breath deepened, his frame toughened slightly, his steps gained a flicker of grace, grounding him in this brutal game.
“Thirty-four left,” he murmured, pocketing the crystal, the scout’s blood slick on his hands, smearing his jeans as he wiped them. He dragged the body into the brambles, thorns tearing at its scales, ripping flesh in wet strips as he hid it from patrol eyes. The gully stilled, rabbits darting back to their holes, the kill unseen. He retreated, slipping into the thicket, the amulet cloaking his trail, his tread steady despite the gore. Back at the hollow, he sank against the slab, sparking the fire-stone with a flick—flames licking up, the smoky tang of rabbit filling the air as he cooked another catch. “One step,” he said, eyes on the embers, the war’s first blood a grim spark, his body stronger, ready for the next.
[Status: Gale Harper]
<ul>
<li>Level: 2</li>
<li>Health: 100/110</li>
<li>Energy: 30/55</li>
<li>Stats:
<ul>
<li>Strength: 5</li>
<li>Endurance: 7</li>
<li>Dexterity: 6</li>
<li>Agility: 6</li>
<li>Vitality: 7</li>
<li>Wisdom: 5</li>
<li>Focus: 9</li>
<li>Intelligence: 5</li>
<li>Charisma: 5</li>
<li>Appearance: 5</li>
<li>Luck: 5</li>
</ul>
</li>
<li>Unspent Points: 0</li>
<li>Abilities: Crystal Manifestation (Rank 1)</li>
<li>Skills: Rune Etching (Rank 1), Basic Swordsmanship (Rank 1)</li>
</ul>