He knelt beside the Goblin Enforcer and placed his hand on what he thought was his chest.

  Would you like to loot Goblin Enforcer?

  Yes/ No

  “Well, can’t be any worse than looting a childhood pet’s grave.” He sighed. “Yes, loot.”

  You have looted great axe (Copper) (Broken)

  You have looted 3 silver

  You have looted Goblin leather vest (Bronze)

  He was expecting the body to disappear in a mist of hissing smoke or sink into the ground. He poked it with his club.

  “Disappear.” Rook frowned as nothing happened.

  Now that he really thought of it, he had just had a hand in killing three monster bandits. The gravity of it all had fully set in. His heart began to thump in his ears. He realized that he had been so calm about it, joking as if it were a video game. Am I a horrible person? Rook rubbed his chin. Nope, I definitely should’ve used a funnier nickname.

  Rook chuckled. “It would’ve been awesome hearing the gravelly chief say that.”

  He knelt beside the archer. It seemed just touching the corpse allowed him to loot it. He knew one thing: this auto loot would eventually fill all the slots of his Traveler’s pack. What happens when I have a full inventory? The Goblin Archer had 3 silver and a draught of healing. He opened his inventory to put the leather vest on, but all he saw was the description and rank.

  Goblin leather vest: (Bronze)

  Worn by goblin enforcers, this boiled leather vest is part of a matching set.

  3 of 5 pieces worn, +2 to Slashing weapons

  5 of 5 pieces worn, +2 to Arcane Intelligence

  “There’s no option to equip?” Rook hovered over the healing draught.

  Minor Healing Draught: (common)

  Minor healing draught heals small wounds.

  Easy enough. Bummer about the vest.

  “I guess it’s to be expected, I am only level 2 in this world. Bottom of the barrel in my world, bottom of the barrel here. What’s a guy gotta do to get promoted?” Rook walked next to the Archer and sat on the log, desperate to get this off his chest. “I’m going to talk with Mr. Goblin. I hope that’s fine. You don’t have anywhere to be, do you?”

  The goblin archer lay legless and well done, unmoving with his neck bent at an unnatural angle. “I’ll take that as a no. Forgive my bluntness, but after 5 years in the Army, what do I have to show for it?” Rook asked, breaking a small charred twig from the log. "Each year it’s the same old shit again. My senior leaders always said the same things. Rook, can you take on this charity case of a team leader, mold him into you, and then we’ll take him and make him into the next squad leader?” He then threw pieces on the ground beside the archer. “Sure, asshole, it’d be my pleasure. What about Rook? What about turning Rook into the next squad leader? When you gettin’ promoted to Sergeant? They ask me. I don’t know when you will send me to a board? This time, the charity case was a weird little worm by the name of Bumble.”

  Rook thought of the squirrely kid, and even now it made him chuckle. He was always in his own world, more at home drawing in his notebook than hanging out with the rest of the squad. “Don’t get me wrong, I like the kid and I’m going to polish that turd into a great Soldier, when I get back. If I ever get back. Sergeant Bumble, next squad leader, and his Alpha team leader, Rook, is ready and willing to get bent by the leadership like always.” Rook blew air out in a sharp exhale. “Thanks for listening. Maybe I’ll get promoted if I make it back, or in the next life.”

  For the first time since being here, he thought of Knox. The fellow team leader had been with him through basic training, schools, and a “deployment” to Korea. He had seen him through his grandfather’s death. Now, the image of his buddy touching the weird white crystal first inside the woods flashed fresh in his mind. I hope you’re good, man, wherever you are.

  He walked over to the goblin chief. Or what was left of him. His torso was partially melted into the ground, and he had one arm raised in the air like a gruesome island with a single palm tree. His legs and other arm were nowhere to be found. Rook felt the bile begin to rise. The other two were one thing, but this was rough. He closed his eyes and touched his palm to the extended arm.

  Would you like to loot goblin leader?

  Yes/no

  You have looted Goblin Leather boots (Uncommon)

  You have looted 1 gold

  You have looted 8 silver

  You have looted 68 copper

  You have looted Goblin bandit journal

  You have looted map (Wood of Sorrow)

  You have looted 1 Black Dagger necklace

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  He sighed. “At least he had a lot of loot on him.”

  He sat on the log opposite the archer, beside the chief, and breathed a sigh of relief. At least this place is pretty, despite the death. He stared at his hands, which were stained with mud and char. His hands now had the power to move objects, and the concept, foreign as it was, felt like second nature. He had forgotten what it felt like to be genuinely appalled by something he did. The crude club he carried was stained with the ash from prodding the goblin and some of the debris.

  It must have been command presence that allowed me to stay calm. It wasn’t like poking roadkill while on a hike. The skill is activated in the face of danger like a sixth sense.

  “These bodies were talking bullshit around the fire just minutes ago.”

  He felt a distinct tugging on his cloth pants. He turned to see the disheveled merchant’s daughter. Her eyes were wide with horror as she tried to free the mouth gag, her tongue wildly darted around the bind, desperate to move it out of her mouth. Straight out of my nightmares.

  “Oh shit!” Rook exclaimed, completely forgetting about the kidnapped lady.

  “Fee ee reez.”

  “Sorry. Glad you’re okay,” Rook said, freeing her mouth gag and wrist bindings with his skinning blade.

  The woman coughed and looked at Rook. “Water, Please.”

  “Oh, um, sure.” Rook searched through his inventory and took out his traveler’s canteen. “Here you go.”

  She took a long pull from the canteen and sat beside him. “Damned goblins.”

  They sat on the log. He couldn’t help but feel awkward. This was the second person he’d seen since arriving here in the Wood of Sorrow. She didn’t look like an enemy, but Rook didn’t know the rules. Frankly, he was too tired to care, so he continued to sit with the woman. While she drank all of his water. It’s okay, I was only slightly parched.

  She held the canteen over her mouth and swallowed the last drops of his water. Lace report, liquids black, ammo plenty of rocks, casualties three green goblins, equipment I found, clothes, and a bat.

  “So my name’s-”

  “Ben Dover. Yes, I heard from before. Thank you for the intervention, Ben Dover.”

  I’ve got to stop fucking around with the fake names. He smiled at her, wiped a hand to his brow, and sighed.

  “Sorry, dumb joke, my name is Samuel. Samuel Merrell, but please call me Rook. Also, no worries, happy to help.”

  She smiled back. “Alright, I will.” Then she looked over the campfire.

  He cleared his throat. “So what’s your name?”

  “Ah, yes. My name’s Reina Jax. My father’s still on the glade path; we need to go back.” She stood up and stretched. “I’ve got a question, why didn’t you just use your spell on the trigger?”

  “Fuck me, you’re right.”

  She looked slightly perturbed at his language.

  “Wait, I have to do something first.” Rook stood up and looked around. “Did you happen to see if they took some of your wagon tools?”

  “Yes, they are scattered around the camp. When they found out it didn’t contain food, they threw the wooden crate in the air, and the big one punched it.” She shook her head.

  “By the God Maker, I couldn’t tell you why. There should be five iron screws and a crossbar.

  Rook really examined her now. She was unlike Roran, who had brown hair, and hers was black and short. She wore a brown tunic over a white shirt, matching pants with a belt and scabbard, and a pair of black leather boots. Most of all, she was pretty, not in a smothering way, but just noticeably beautiful. Like a badass duelist.

  “Well, I’d better get looking.”

  Rook hopped from the log and began swiping the debris with his feet. The charred remains of the camp broke apart as his foot shuffled through.

  “I could really go for a cold one after today. I wonder if Knox is thinking the same thing?”

  “Were you speaking to me, Rook?” She asked.

  “No, sorry, I have been so used to talking to myself since arriving in this place.” He kicked something metallic in the ash. “Cool, found a screw,” he said, picking it up.

  “What do you mean?” Reina asked, frowning at him.

  She probably has no idea what the hell you’re talking about, dumbass. He waved a dismissive hand at her.

  “I meant this mushroom forest.” Rook thought it better to not tell her about Earth, the interface narrator, and everything related to it.

  Reina narrowed her eyes on him while she searched the campgrounds, shuffling her feet through the debris until she kicked something and smiled. “Were you by chance pulled from another world?” Reina asked, picking up a thin sword with an intricate hilt.

  He was dumbfounded. How should I answer this? Rook knew life was about choices and consequences. This conversation could end up with him strapped to the table of an eager torturer. Or maybe get him another quest. Screw it.

  “Yeah, I came from a place called Earth,” Rook said, glancing at her reaction.

  “You…You’re really from another world?” She asked, beaming. “By the God Maker, I’ve wished to meet a conjured. I’ve spent my life researching everything, including the theory of other worlds.”

  Conjured? Is that what I am? Rook stared at her for a moment to see if she was joking.

  “You don’t look like a researcher,” he said.

  “So you’ve met many oh great and wise level two Mage?”

  “I didn’t mean it like that.” Rook pleaded, then paused. “Wait, how can you tell my level? You’re being sarcastic, huh? I can appreciate that.”

  “Yes, it’s a joke,” she said with a chuckle, before sighing in what looked like relief.

  Rook paused, pretending to understand the complexity of having skills in real life. “By the way, it’s battlemage,” he retorted with a smile.

  They shared a laugh; it felt good to have a carefree laugh here in whatthefucksville. Wait. Rook turned towards her. She sat cross-legged on the log, seemingly oblivious to the carnage before them.

  “There’s others like you, that have been sent here that is. In the texts, they referred to you as the conjured.” She rubbed one finger down the side of her face, seemingly deep in thought. “They say your kind usually gets sent here in droves, scattered across the continents of Yorthon.” Her eyes grew wide.

  “What is it?” Rook asked, slightly excited at the prospect of seeing his friend, but worried over this girl’s face.

  “Usually, during the time of the Summer Solstice in a few months. The Bloodstone Elves host something called The Great Hunt. Parties of warriors and hunters gather at the three Elvish houses in attempts to find your kind.”

  “How can they tell what my kind are? You look as human as I do.”

  “Rook, have you seen your body?” Reina asked with a sad expression. “All of the conjured have markings of three triangles. Making it easy for those who want to find you.”

  Rook sighed. “What I’d give to just be working again with the homies on mid shift.” He rubbed the back of his head. “I guess I’ll have to take your word for it for now. You never answered my question. How can you tell my level? Lastly, why are you so calm despite just being kidnapped?” Rook felt like he wasn’t going to like the answers.

  “Like you, I am a mage. But unlike you, I have an identity skill that allows me to see someone’s level and rank. For example, I am a Bronze rank and level 10.”

  Had to throw an insult in there just for good measure, huh?