Insomniac Player

Damien had made a mistake. Not a fatal one. At least, not yet.

But he felt close enough to death while standing in the middle of an endless swarm of goblins, with no cave wall behind him and no clear path back to the others.

He turned slowly; green bodies surrounded him in every direction.

Night had swallowed most of the battlefield. The fighting had scattered or trampled the remaining fires, leaving only patches of orange light between the trees.

Far behind the goblin ranks, Damien could barely make out John’s enormous silhouette.

The giant’s mace rose above the crowd, then fell.

A group of goblins disappeared beneath the impact.

That was comforting, but not enough to make Damien feel safe.

He glanced towards the cave; he could no longer see it.

The formation had broken apart shortly after the ogre’s death.

Not because anyone panicked, the opposite. The players had become too aggressive.

After three days of being hunted, they had finally tasted what it felt like to be stronger than their enemy.

Every dead goblin gave experience; every level made the next kill easier.

The horde no longer looked like an army; it looked like a field of rewards waiting to be collected.

Damien understood the temptation; he had fallen for it too.

A Level Three goblin rushed at him from the left. Damien stepped aside; the creature’s spear passed beneath his arm.

He caught the wooden shaft, pulled the goblin forward, and drove his dagger into the side of the goblin’s shoulder and pulled it into the path of the neck.

The blade cut through without resistance. The goblin collapsed.

Another attacked from behind; Damien heard the footsteps. He twisted, ducked under a crude sword, and slashed across the goblin’s stomach.

A third jumped over the falling body. Damien kicked it in the knee; the goblin stumbled.

His dagger flashed once; the creature stopped moving.

Three enemies, a few seconds. He hadn’t fought like that at the beginning of the tutorial.

Back then, one goblin had been enough to send him running.

Now he barely needed to think; the difference wasn’t bravery.

Damien was still afraid; only an idiot stopped being afraid in the middle of a battlefield.

The difference was understanding; he knew their speed, their reach, and their patterns.

He knew how long they hesitated after missing an attack.

He knew they swung harder when angry and forgot to defend their necks.

Most importantly, he knew the numbers.

Goblins were Lv. 3, and he was Lv. 6.

Why should a Level Six player run from Level Three goblins?

One goblin was dangerous; ten were worse. But they were still weaker.

Damien tightened his grip on the dagger. "Come on, then."

The nearest goblins shifted; none stepped forward.

That made him pause; they were watching the weapon, not him.

The First Blood Dagger was stained purple with goblin blood, but its pale edge remained flawless.

The monsters had seen it cut through the Chief’s cleaver.

They had seen it take the chief’s head.

They had seen it open an ogre’s neck.

Even creatures driven insane by rage seemed to understand one thing. That blade killed anything it touched.

Damien stepped forward; the goblins stepped back.

His tired eyes narrowed. "So now you’re scared?"

An arrow flew from the darkness; Damien tilted his head.

The arrow passed besides his ear; he traced its path and saw the goblin who had thrown it.

Before the creature could retreat, Damien rushed forward.

Three goblins moved to block him; he changed direction.

His dagger cut through the first one’s wrist; he ducked beneath the second’s axe.

The third tried to stab him. Damien grabbed its shoulder and pulled it into the descending axe.

The blade buried itself in the goblin’s skull; the axe wielder froze.

The throwing goblin turned to flee after Damien stabbed it in the chest.

After six steps, Damien caught it, and his dagger slid beneath its ribs.

The creature collapsed. A familiar chime rang inside his head.

Bing!

—

➤[Level Up.]

➤[Level 7 Reached.]

➤[Available Stat Points: 3]

---

Golden light wrapped around Damien.

His exhaustion lessened; the burning in his muscles faded.

His breathing grew steadier; it still felt strange.

No matter how many times he levelled, part of him expected the light to hurt.

Instead, it moved through him like warmth after a long winter night.

Damien opened his stat window: three points.

Strength would make each attack heavier.

Agility would improve his movements.

Stamina would let him fight longer.

But none of those was what he needed most.

He looked at the goblins retreating into the darkness.

If he wanted to gain as much experience as possible before the Tutorial ended, he had to reach them before they escaped.

"Speed."

The system responded instantly.

---

➤[Speed increased by 3.]

---

The change struck his body at once. His body felt lighter.

The ground beneath him seemed closer, as though every step required less effort.

Damien tested it, and he pushed off with his right foot.

The world shifted. The distance between him and the nearest goblin vanished almost immediately.

The creature barely had time to turn its head. Damien passed it.

A second later, a red line appeared across its throat.

The goblin fell.

Damien stopped several metres away and looked back. "...That’s useful."

Another goblin ran. Damien chased it.

His feet struck the ground faster than before, his body leaning naturally into the movement.

He caught it in seconds with a single slash. Another notification of experience appeared.

He ignored it. The fighting still raged in the distance.

John’s laughter occasionally rolled across the battlefield.

Metal struck bone.

Players shouted warnings.

Wolves snarled somewhere beyond the flames.

But around Damien, the goblins were no longer attacking.

They were withdrawing, not one or two. All of them.

Green shapes slipped between trees, climbed over bodies, and retreated deeper into the forest.

Some threw away their weapons to run faster; others shoved their allies aside.

The horde that had seemed endless only minutes earlier was breaking apart.

Damien frowned. "They’re running?"

That wasn’t supposed to happen.

The chief was dead.

The Elite Goblins were dead.

The ogre was dead.

The monsters had lost their leaders. Perhaps the situation was natural, but it felt wrong.

They had attacked with mindless fury after the chief fell.

Why stop now?

A heavy impact echoed from the distance. Then John’s voice rose above the fighting. "YES!"

Golden light briefly illuminated his massive form.

John had levelled up.

Even from far away, Damien could see him throw both arms into the air.

A goblin tried to stab him during the celebration.

Without looking, John hit the goblin with the mace.

Damien shook his head. "Of course."

More goblins rushed away from John. They weren’t only retreating from Damien.

The entire horde was fleeing. For some reason, they had kept coming.

Wave after wave. There were far more creatures than could reasonably live in one forest.

It was as though the system had placed them here for one purpose.

Experience. A final gift for the surviving players.

A chance to grow before the next tutorial. And now that opportunity was fading.