Days blurred into a rhythm of survival and self-improvement. Leav continued to push himself, activating his Sprint skill over and over, refining his control. Each burst of speed brought him closer to mastering it. But he told no one of his abilities, keeping his advantage secret.
He observed his group closely, assessing their strengths and weaknesses. Weal was nervous, but sharp-eyed—his ability to spot danger was uncanny. Yorl lacked intelligence but had brute strength, a weapon waiting to be wielded. Frot was a natural scavenger, always finding hidden food and trinkets. And then there was Bout… silent, unreadable, but dangerous.
Each day, Leav experimented. He watched, learned, tested his limits. He would rise above the rest. He had to.
One morning, a deep, guttural roar echoed through the village.
Leav turned his head toward the sound. From his perch near the hut, he saw Tear, the hobgoblin warlord, standing among a group of older goblins. The warlord pointed toward the tree line, barking orders, his gestures wild and urgent.
"Hunting party," Leav murmured to himself.
He nudged Yorl awake. "They're going hunting. We should go too."
Yorl grunted, rubbing his groggy eyes. "Too… dangerous."
"Perhaps," Leav admitted. "But also an opportunity. We need food. And experience."
Leav had never explained the system to them—the strange screen that tracked his growth. He hadn't told them how he was advancing faster, how his Sprint skill gave him an edge. Not yet. He didn't want to share that power.
Instead, he turned to Weal. "Scout ahead. Tell us what you see."
Weal's eyes widened. "I… I don't know…"
"Do it," Leav snapped, his voice firm. "Our survival depends on it."
Weal gulped, then nodded, creeping toward the edge of the village, his sharp eyes darting around.
Frot sidled up to Leav with a grin. "What about me?"
"Stay close. Keep your eyes open."
Bout, as always, said nothing. He simply watched.
Minutes later, Weal returned, looking pale. "I saw… tracks," he stammered. "Big tracks. And… and droppings. Something huge is out there."
Leav's eyes narrowed. "What kind of tracks?"
Weal hesitated. "Hooves… claws… I don't know! They just… looked scary."
Leav exhaled sharply. Not enough information. "Fine. We'll see for ourselves."
They followed the trail into the forest.
The air turned cooler, the light dimming beneath the thick canopy. The ground was uneven, treacherous with tangled roots and damp leaves. Every sound felt amplified—the crunch of footsteps, the rustling of unseen creatures.
Then Frot hissed. "Look!"
Leav turned and saw it. A small creature crouched in the undergrowth.
A rabbit—but not a normal one.
Its fur was mottled brown, and two curved horns sprouted from its skull.
[Horned Rabbit] [Level 2]
"A Horned Rabbit," Leav whispered. "Weal, is it alone?"
Weal peered ahead. "I… I think so. But it's watching us."
Leav turned to Yorl. "You're up. Charge!"
Yorl grinned and lunged. The rabbit bolted.
Despite his strength, Yorl was slow, his heavy footsteps crushing leaves and twigs. The rabbit weaved between trees, dodging effortlessly.
Leav cursed. He had underestimated its speed. "Frot, cut it off!"
Frot darted sideways, but the rabbit twisted, avoiding him with ease.
"This isn't working," Leav muttered. He needed a strategy.
"Yorl, keep chasing it. Frot, circle around and drive it back to us. Weal, stay on watch."
Then, activating Sprint, Leav surged forward.
The world blurred as his speed increased. He closed the distance, reaching out—
His hands clamped onto the rabbit's hind legs. It squealed, struggling, claws raking at his arms.
"Yorl, now!"
With a grunt, Yorl brought down his fist—
CRACK.
The rabbit went limp.
[USER has gained 5 EXP]
Leav released the corpse, breathing heavily. They had won. Barely.
Then—
"BEHIND YOU!"
Weal's scream sent a jolt of adrenaline through Leav's veins.
He turned.
A massive shape lunged from the shadows—a serpent thicker than Yorl's torso, its red scales gleaming in the dim light. Its golden eyes locked onto them, its forked tongue flickering.
[Red Python] [Level 4]
Leav didn't hesitate.
"Formation!" he barked. "Yorl, front! Weal, behind Yorl! Frot, left! Bout, right! I'll support!"
They were no longer hunters.
Now, they were the prey.