The mana sensing exercises were progressing slowly, giving me hope that soon I would be able to move on to the next phase—mana manipulation, or at least to make some tentative attempts. But first, I had to start a new day, and as everyone knows, a light breakfast is always a good beginning. In my case, however, it was more about figuring out what I still had left in my supplies rather than choosing between different options. But that didn’t discourage me. I had to admit, simply sensing mana was becoming addictive. The pure joy it brought felt like a balm for my soul, soothing my nerves.

  But back to breakfast.

  There I was, sitting on a fallen log, of course far away from my camp so not to tempt fate, and staring at the crackling campfire while happily munching on the last bits of "Bacon 2". And it was delicious. Even without spices or plain salt, roasted juicy meat was still a feast worthy of the gods for a starving adventurer like me. Especially since I had berries for dessert. Yes, I could say I was truly enjoying life.

  And it was in this state of satisfaction—and admittedly lowered caution thanks to the peaceful surroundings—that I was caught off guard by the sounds of approaching, uninvited guests.

  Seriously, why can’t we have nice things?

  With a sigh, I set aside the last of my meal, grabbed my knife, and cautiously made my way toward the noise. “Toward” in this case meant circling around them from the side to attack from behind if it came to that. Sure, it wasn’t the most honorable tactic, but who in their right mind would expect honor from a ten-year-old surviving alone in the forest? Plus, nature didn’t care how you killed your prey, so why should I lose sleep over it?

  Pushing aside tall ferns, I got a look at my opponents—three of them. Wonderful. Not only did they outnumber me, but I had finally encountered members of an intelligent race. Well, calling goblins "intelligent" might’ve been a stretch—especially given how they were "sneaking" toward my campfire, making more noise than if they’d just strolled right in. Still, underestimating them was a sure way to end up with a knife in my gut and a surprised look on my face—an end I was keen to avoid.

  One thing was clear: I needed to take these pests out quickly. Where there were a few goblins, a whole pack was bound to show up sooner or later. It was as inevitable as ordering a second beer after finishing the first at a bar. No use questioning it; it was just one of nature’s unchangeable laws.

  I crept closer to get a better look at their weapons, and assess just how screwed I was. All three goblins were roughly the same size, each slightly taller than me which irked me a bit. Even these little runts could look down on me. But no matter—victory would be mine!

  Glory to the short kings!

  I focused on their weapons and honestly, wasn’t too impressed. One had a club, another wielded a hatchet, and the last carried a spear. Sure, all the weapons looked like they were straight out of the Stone Age, but I wasn’t about to underestimate them, especially the spear-wielder. There’s a reason spears have been a go-to weapon for centuries—they’re simple to use, easy to make, and most importantly offer one huge advantage: reach. So, he was marked as my first target. Then the hatchet guy—because slashing wounds are no joke—and finally, the lover of the blunt weapons.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  I tensed, focused, ready to strike. In combat, speed and confidence are everything. You can’t hesitate mid-swing or second-guess yourself. A fight to the death is a dance of instinctive movements and swift blows designed to take your opponent out. There is no room for mercy or doubt. Those who forget that end up as cautionary tales for the rest.

  When I spotted my chance I burst from the underbrush in a sprint, closing in on the spear-wielder. A sharp kick to the back of his knee brought him down hard. In a flash, I grabbed his forehead, yanked his head back, and exposed his throat. My knife slid cleanly under his jaw, ending him before he even realized what was happening.

  Wasting no time, I snatched up his spear and shoved his body into one of the other goblins, using it as a makeshift shield. Then with a two-handed thrust, I drove the spearhead deep into the hatchet-wielder’s gut. He instinctively shoved the dead goblin away but was too slow to parry my attack. And now he had a spear buried in his guts.

  You might wonder why I used both hands and dropped my knife? Simple. I wasn’t done yet. There was a slim chance the goblin, in a burst of desperation, could yank the spear out and go for me. I had no intention of letting that happen. So to make sure he is finished, I ripped the spear out sideways, tearing open his abdomen in the process.

  It’s hard to fight with a chunk of wood lodged in your intestines. It’s even harder when someone’s just spilled them on the ground. Some might say, at that point, you’re done fighting at all.

  And that’s when I noticed movement out of the corner of my eye—a club swinging going straight for my head. I managed to block it with the left arm just in time, but the impact still hurt like hell. Before the goblin could swing again, I leaped backward and lashed out with the spear in a wide arc. I only meant to force him to back off, so I was genuinely surprised when the blade cut across his throat, blood gushing out.

  Huh. I think I was almost as shocked as he was.

  We both just stood there for a second, staring at each other in disbelief. He even managed to clutch at his sliced throat, as if that would somehow stop the bleeding and change his fate.

  It didn’t.

  The goblin’s knees buckled and his body collapsed, I stood there for a moment, watching the life drain from his eyes, reflecting on the fragility of existence. The moment was broken by the pitiful moans of the hatchet-wielder.

  Ah. Right.

  He was still alive, writhing in agony, his hands trying in vain to stuff his intestines back into his belly. I scanned the ground for my knife, pulled it from the first goblin’s throat, and walked over to the dying goblin.

  He was curled up and groaning in pain.

  I’m not some monster who revels in suffering of others even such low creatures as goblins. So, with a swift, clean motion, I give him mercy.

  I glanced down at my hunting knife, pleased, admiring the gleam of the blade.

  Damn. Now that’s a fine piece of steel.

  After a quick search of the bodies and wiping my blade clean, I was ready to leave this bloody mess behind.

  That’s when I heard the sounds of a heated argument in the distance. My head snapped toward my camp, and a chill ran down my spine.

  I had a bad feeling.

  A very bad feeling.