Hirohiro’s sharp command cut through the tense air. “Halt!”

  Stick flinched mid-motion, instinctively tightening his grip on the sword. His heart pounded against his ribs. “What’s wrong?”

  Hirohiro waved him over, taking cover behind the remains of a crumbling wall. Stick hesitated before following.

  “Before you fight, always check your Life Points first.”

  Stick blinked.

  “Oh.” He lowered the sword slightly. “Is that really necessary?”

  He felt fine. His muscles were tense but ready, his mind anxious yet determined. He didn’t feel weak.

  “Don’t be stupid,” Hirohiro snapped. “You never know if you’ve taken Environmental Damage.”

  That’s fair.

  Stick opened his Status window, scanning the information displayed. Everything looked normal. His [Life Points] were at 486/500—not quite full, but close enough.

  Hirohiro handed him a small glass vial filled with red liquid. “Always fight at Full Life.”

  Stick hesitated. “That seems… wasteful.”

  “It’s wasteful to die to a Goblin Grunt,” Hirohiro countered. “Plenty have. Do you want to join them?”

  Stick swallowed. Without another word, he popped the cork and downed the potion. Warmth spread through his body as his health bar topped up.

  “Now, what Skills do you have?”

  Stick’s eyes widened. “Skills?”

  “Like your attacks,” Hirohiro explained. “Heavy Strike, Quick Lunge, Paralyzing Blow? Stuff like that.”

  Stick frowned. Another system mechanic he didn’t understand. But Paralyzing Blow…

  Something about that struck a chord. His eyes flickered to Big Man for a split second.

  “I don’t know. Where do I check?”

  Hirohiro gave him a skeptical look.

  “Your Skills tab,” he said, as if it were obvious.

  “I don’t know where it is,” Stick admitted, embarrassed.

  Hirohiro raised an eyebrow, then sighed. “Open your Menu.”

  Stick did as instructed. A translucent interface appeared before him. He scanned through the options, flipping through different windows, but he couldn’t find anything labeled [Skills].

  “You should set that to private,” Hirohiro advised.

  Stick, still confused, nodded in agreement.

  Big Man, who had been observing, huffed. “Is all of that necessary? He just has to fight.”

  Hirohiro turned his head. “It might be intuitive to you, NPC, but Players have to figure this stuff out.”

  Big Man crossed his arms, unimpressed.

  “Here, let me help.” Hirohiro leaned over, guiding Stick through the menu.

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  Finally, he found the [Skills] tab.

  It was empty.

  “That’s… weird,” Hirohiro muttered.

  Stick felt unease creep in. “What’s wrong?”

  Hirohiro stared at the screen. “That’s not possible. Everyone has at least one Skill at Level 1. Unless…”

  His gaze flicked to Stick, studying him like a puzzle piece that didn’t fit. Could it be?

  “Unbound…” Hirohiro confirmed Stick’s suspicion. “Never heard that one before.”

  That word again. There was always something with his class. Every Player, no matter their LVL, seemed to have a problem with the way it worked. He still didn’t understand why. What was so different about him? He had no reference for what was normal in this system, but somehow, his [Class] kept sidestepping the rules. This time, though, it seemed more of a hindrance than a boon. What’s up with that?

  Hirohiro took a deep breath. “That’s not good.”

  “What isn’t?” Stick asked warily.

  “Skills give Players an edge over mobs. Without one, this might be difficult.”

  Stick’s pulse quickened. “Really? Can’t you help me?”

  Hirohiro shrugged. “Kind of defeats the purpose, wouldn’t you say?”

  Stick lowered his head. Great. First real fight, and I’m already at a disadvantage.

  “Stick Man,” Big Man’s voice rumbled. “Don’t overthink. Keep your weapon raised. Stay on your toes. Hit hard, and you’ll break through its shield.”

  Stick nodded hesitantly. “I know, but I’ve never fought with a sword before.”

  Big Man smirked. “Don’t worry, you’re hard to hit. I would know.”

  Stick grimaced at the reminder of their previous fight. “Yeah, but…”

  Hirohiro interjected. “If things get out of control, we’ll be right here.”

  Stick inhaled deeply, steadying himself. “Okay.”

  He stepped out from behind the wall, gripping his sword tightly. His Life Points were full. I can do this.

  The Goblin Grunt immediately noticed him. Its beady yellow eyes locked onto him, letting out a guttural shriek as it brandished its rusted weapon.

  “You’re in its Aggro Range,” Hirohiro called out. “It attacks if you wait or get closer. Your choice.”

  Stick clenched his jaw, planting his feet. He wasn’t going to let fear dictate his actions. If it was going to attack, then he would brace himself for it. The Goblin snarled, waving its weapon erratically in the air as if to intimidate him. Stick’s hands tightened around the hilt. Sweat dampened his palms, but he didn’t back down.

  The Goblin’s patience wore thin. With a screech, it lunged at him. It was smaller than him, but it moved with a wiry agility that made his stomach tighten. Here we go!

  The goblin lunged, swinging wildly. Stick barely dodged, instinct kicking in, but his stance faltered. He’d expected a clumsy, sluggish enemy—this thing was fast.

  “Watch its patterns!” Hirohiro called out. “It’s got a predictable attack cycle!”

  Stick didn’t have time to reply. The goblin struck again, and he barely managed to bring up his sword in time. The impact sent a shockwave up his arms, but it wasn’t a clean block—his feet slid in the loose dirt, and he staggered back.

  “Too slow,” Hirohiro muttered under his breath, watching intently.

  The goblin pressed its advantage, striking again and again. Stick was forced to stay on the defensive, dodging and blocking while struggling to find an opening. Every time he tried to counter, the goblin darted away, only to strike again from another angle. His breath came in quick bursts.

  “You’re letting it control the fight!” Big Man called out. “Take the initiative!”

  Stick gritted his teeth. He had no special skills, no techniques—just a sword and a body running on adrenaline. But he had to fight. He had to win.

  He took a step forward, raising his sword high and swinging down with everything he had. The goblin screeched, twisting away at the last moment. His blade barely nicked its shoulder, a thin red line blooming on green skin. The goblin stumbled—but recovered fast. It bared its jagged teeth, snarling.

  Stick didn’t let up. He swung again, lower this time. The goblin parried, its crude weapon shaking on impact—but Stick felt it. He was stronger. The goblin’s knees bent slightly from the force, its feet digging into the ground.

  “Good! Break its stance!” Hirohiro shouted.

  Stick exhaled sharply and pressed forward, slamming his boot into the goblin’s shin. The creature yelped in pain, losing balance for just a second. That was enough. Now!

  With a roar, Stick brought his sword down again, striking across the goblin’s chest. The blade bit deep, cutting through its crude leather armor. The goblin let out a strangled cry, its body convulsing before collapsing onto the dirt.

  Stick stood there, panting, his arms trembling from exertion.

  “Well done.” Hirohiro nodded approvingly, stepping out from behind cover. “It took longer than it should have, but you got the job done.”

  Stick swallowed, his heart still hammering. “That was… intense.”

  “Because you’re untrained,” Hirohiro said. “Your swings were wild. You relied on brute force instead of technique. If that goblin were a higher level, you’d be dead.”

  Stick wiped the sweat from his brow. “Thanks for the pep talk.”

  A rustling sound. Stick’s head snapped up.

  Two more goblins crept out from behind a ruined building.

  “Goblins rarely travel alone,” Big Man commented.

  Stick took a deep breath, raising his sword. His arms still ached, but he planted his feet.

  “Alright,” he said, voice steady. “Let’s go.”

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