Insomniac Player

The players marched out of the cave like an army that had forgotten it was supposed to be afraid.

They did not move quickly; they could not.

The ground outside was buried beneath dead goblins, shattered weapons, broken shields, and pools of purple blood... every step required care. A careless foot could slip between corpses or catch beneath a spear.

But they moved forward, one step after another, and with every step, the goblins were forced back.

"Keep the line!" Damien shouted.

His voice nearly disappeared beneath the noise.

The forest roared with shrieks, snarls, and the pounding of hundreds of feet. Goblins rushed from every direction, but the narrow space around the cave entrance prevented them from surrounding the players.

John stood at the front. His massive frame was covered in blood; all of it belonged to the monsters.

His moustache had become a tangled red mess, and his clothes were torn in so many places they barely deserved to be called clothes anymore.

Still, he looked happier than he had all day.

His mace rose, and a goblin’s shield shattered. The mace fell. The goblin beneath it vanished into the mud.

John laughed. "Now this is exercise!"

Rahul thrust his spear through the throat of another goblin. "You call this exercise?"

"What do you call it?"

"Trauma!"

Imran cut down a goblin trying to attack Rahul from the side. "Both can be true."

Damien stayed several steps behind the first line, with the First Blood Dagger in his right hand and the habit of watching everything.

The others fought the enemies in front of them.

Damien guided from behind. "Left!"

Mark turned just as a goblin leapt from a pile of bodies.

His sword came up late, but not too late. The blade cut across the goblin’s stomach.

Purple blood spilled over his hands; Mark froze for half a second.

Then another goblin rushed him. He stepped forward and stabbed it through the chest, no hesitation that time.

"Good," Damien said.

Mark looked at the two bodies; his breathing was wild.

Mark pulled his sword free. "It is disgusting and stinky." He closed his eyes and covered his mouth and gagged.

A notification flashed before him as the goblin collapsed.

Mark smiled; the disturbing feeling vanished slowly as he saw a level-up notification. Then he pushed forward with the rest.

The players had spent three days learning how to survive. Now they were learning how to hunt.

The goblins attacked in waves, not organized waves.

The death of the chief had destroyed whatever discipline they possessed.

Some charged immediately; others hesitated.

A few attempted to retreat, but those behind them pushed them forward.

Their fear had not disappeared; it had become confused.

They hated the humans who had killed their leader, but they were also terrified of them.

Damien saw it in their eyes, especially when they looked at his dagger.

The surviving goblins had witnessed what it had done.

They knew the weapon had sliced through the chief’s cleaver.

They knew it had taken his head. Whenever Damien moved toward them, the closest goblins backed away.

That was useful; it also made him uncomfortable.

He had spent the entire tutorial wishing monsters would stop chasing him.

Now that they finally did, he was chasing them instead. Life had an unpleasant sense of humor.

"Damien!" Imran’s warning came a moment before a spear flew toward him.

Damien twisted aside; the weapon scraped across his arm.

He grabbed the shaft before it passed and threw it toward John.

John caught it without looking. Then he used it to stab one goblin while crushing another with the mace in his other hand.

Rahul stared. "That was unnecessarily impressive."

John pulled the spear free. "I have always been talented."

"You fell into our own pit three times."

"Four."

Rahul blinked. "You corrected me?"

"A man should be proud of his achievements," John said with a smile.

Then the goblins in front of them scattered. Not retreated but scattered.

They fled sideways, climbing over one another in desperation.

The players slowed; something large moved between the trees.

A growl rolled across the clearing. Low, deep, and very familiar.

Damien’s expression changed; he remembered that sound.

The wolves had attacked their cave more than once, but one had always stood apart from the others.

Larger, scarred, and smarter. The beast stepped into the open.

Its dark fur was covered in old wounds. One ear had been torn almost completely away, and a white scar stretched from its forehead to the edge of its jaw.

The same wolf that had watched them from the forest.

The same one that had retreated when the pack lost its advantage.

The same one that had learned. A blue window floated above its head.

➤[Scarred Alpha Wolf Lv. 8]

"What! His level and name changed; he was level 7 earlier." Damien informed others in disbelief.

Everyone heard, but none replied; their eyes were on the wolf.

The wolf stared at Damien, then it looked toward John.

Its lips pulled back, revealing long yellow teeth.

John shifted his mace onto one shoulder. "Oh."

Recognition appeared on his face. "It is you."

The wolf growled. John pointed at it. "You have been bothering us for quite some time."

The animal lowered its body.

John grinned. "I was hoping we would meet properly."

The Scarred Alpha launched itself forward. It moved faster than any goblin.

One moment it stood near the trees; the next it was in the air.

Its jaws opened wide enough to close around John’s head.

John swung; the mace struck the wolf in the side.

The impact produced a sickening crack.

The Alpha’s body changed direction in midair and crashed into the ground.

It rolled through mud and corpses before slamming against a tree.

Several goblins were crushed beneath it. John rested the mace against his shoulder again. "Properly met."

The wolf rose slowly. One of its front legs bent at an unnatural angle.

Its ribs had caved in on one side. However, it remained alive.

Its eyes burned with hatred. Damien moved forward.

The wolf saw him; its body tensed. It understood; John’s attack had broken it.

Damien was coming to finish it. The Scarred Alpha tried to retreat, but its injured leg collapsed.

It snarled and dragged itself backwards. For a moment, Damien remembered the first wolf he had faced.

The terror, the helplessness, the feeling of teeth closing around him. He remembered dying.

He remembered reviving near John, humiliated and confused.

The animal before him had likely killed many players during the Tutorial.

Nevertheless, as Damien looked at it now, it seemed smaller than he remembered.

Not harmless, never harmless, just mortal.

He approached carefully; the wolf snapped at him. Damien stayed beyond the reach of its jaws.

John stood nearby, ready to strike again if needed. But he did not interfere; this was Damien’s kill.

The Alpha lunged one final time; Damien stepped aside.

His dagger flashed across its throat; the blade passed through fur, flesh, and bone with almost no resistance.

The wolf fell; its head struck the ground. Its body twitched once before becoming still.

Bing!