Back To The Forest I

Before he even realized it, Gabriel was already standing in front of the same gate he had entered the city through earlier. The journey here had passed in a blur, his thoughts too tangled to keep track of time. Now, under the pale glow of the moon, the massive wooden doors loomed before him once more.

He didn't even need to call out—someone was already watching.

"Halt." A voice rang out from above, sharp and commanding. It was young, but still didn't leave any room for argument. Gabriel squinted up at the battlements, but with the moon hanging high in the sky, the figure standing there was little more than a shadow.

"What business do you have outside the city at this hour?" the voice demanded. 

Gabriel exhaled through his nose. Great. Another one of these guys.

He raised his hands slightly, palms out, in a gesture of peace. "Relax, I'm not up to anything suspicious," he said, keeping his voice light. "I just need to gather some herbs."

There was a pause. Then, the guard's voice came again, this time even sharper. "Herbs?"

Gabriel could almost hear the skepticism dripping from the word.

"Yeah, herbs." he repeated, nodding as if that explained everything. "I just moved to the city, and I'll be working with the Hunter's Guild soon. Figured I should get my supplies in order before then." He took a slow breath, then added with a small, self-deprecating chuckle, "Didn't think stepping outside for a few leaves would cause such a fuss."

The guard didn't respond immediately. Gabriel could picture the person standing up there, probably gripping a spear or some other sharp object, considering whether to believe him or skewer him on the spot.

Finally, the voice came again, colder this time. "You are aware that the gates are closed at night for a reason?"

Gabriel sighed. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. The forest is dangerous, I might get eaten, blah blah blah. But trust me, I just got out of that damn forest. I know what's out there." He tilted his head up slightly. "And I also know that if I wanted to sneak out, I wouldn't be standing here having a friendly chat with you."

Another pause. The silence stretched just long enough for Gabriel to feel the first prick of unease. Did I push too far?

Then, the voice came again—sharper, louder, slicing through the night air like a drawn blade.

"Mind your tone, foreigner!" The force behind them sent a ripple through the quiet night, drawing murmurs from unseen figures atop the battlements. Boots scraped against wood, armor shifted, and Gabriel could hear hushed voices from guards who had been roused by the outburst.

"Shit." The words escaped in between his teeth, almost no sound being heard. Gabriel's body tensed, his heart lurching into a faster rhythm. He could feel the weight of more eyes on him now, unseen but pressing, like the heavy gaze of an audience waiting for his next move. His casual charm had failed spectacularly, and now he was teetering on the edge of making things even worse.

He forced himself to breathe, to push down the instinct to meet fire with fire. Instead, he did what he did best—adjust.

Lowering his head slightly, he stepped back and bowed—not too deep, just enough to show deference without looking desperate. His voice, when he spoke, was softer, measured.

"My apologies," he said, letting weariness seep into his tone. "I didn't mean any offense. I've just had enough of that cursed forest for one lifetime." He exhaled, his shoulders sagging slightly as if the exhaustion had finally caught up with him. "I should have been more respectful."

A long silence followed.

The tension in the air remained thick, but it no longer crackled with immediate hostility. Gabriel dared to glance up, and at that moment, a sliver of moonlight cut across the battlements, illuminating the guard's silhouette.

She stood rigid, her posture tense, her grip tight on the spear she held at her side. Strands of golden hair slipped free from beneath her helmet, catching the light as they fell over her face. But even the soft glow of the moon couldn't soften the sharp lines of her frown.

"Words mean little." she said finally, her voice still edged with steel. "Especially from strangers."

Gabriel didn't miss the way her fingers flexed against the shaft of her spear, the way her stance remained defensive. She wasn't just suspicious—she was ready. If he made one wrong move, she wouldn't hesitate to act.

For a moment, he considered doubling down on his charm, flashing a grin, making a quip to lighten the mood. But something told him that wouldn't work here. 

So instead, he nodded slowly, keeping his voice even. "Fair enough. If I were in your position, I'd probably think the same way." He let out a breath, glancing briefly at the closed gate before looking back up at her. "But I really do just need to gather herbs. I've got work with the Hunter's Guild the day after tomorrow, and I'd rather not show up empty-handed."

The guard remained silent, watching him. Gabriel could almost hear the gears turning in her head, weighing his words, deciding if he was worth the trouble.

Then, finally, she spoke again.

"You will sign your name in the night ledger before you leave." she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. "And if you are not back before dawn, you will be considered a trespasser."

Gabriel let out a slow breath, his chest loosening slightly. "Understood."

The sound of chains rattling echoed through the night, followed by the deep groan of the wooden gates beginning to open. Gabriel didn't miss the way the guards above still lingered. As he stepped forward, he risked one last glance up at the golden-haired guard. Her expression was still unreadable, but the way she stood—rigid, unmoving—told him everything.

She didn't trust him. Not yet. Maybe not ever. When he walked out of that gate, there were already a guard down there, waiting for him. 

"You will have to wait while we retrieve the ledger," the guard said, his voice clipped and emotionless. He remained still, his sharp gaze locked onto Gabriel, as if daring him to make a wrong move.

Gabriel shifted his weight slightly, resisting the urge to sigh. The air between them was thick with unspoken tension, the earlier outburst from the golden-haired guard still lingering like a crackling ember. Was she his superior? Or just someone the others respected enough to take cues from?

He didn't have time to figure it out.

The silence stretched, heavy and unyielding, until another guard finally emerged from a side passage, carrying a thick, worn book in one hand and an ink-dipped quill in the other. Without a word, the guard flipped the ledger open and pushed it toward Gabriel.

The ink shimmered under the moonlight, and Gabriel hesitated for only a moment before taking the quill and signing.

Marcelle.

That would be his name now. The only name that mattered.

Once the ink dried, the guard snatched the book away, tucking it beneath his arm. "You may go." he said simply, stepping back.

The city's walls stretched high behind him, their lantern-lit edges casting long, reaching shadows across the dirt road. Beyond them, Xian'an was still alive—faint laughter from late-night drinkers, the distant hum of music from some unseen tavern, the rhythmic clatter of hooves on cobblestone. But out here, past the safety of the gates, the world was different.

The road to the forest was quiet. Too quiet.

Gabriel walked with steady steps, his boots pressing into the packed dirt. The further he went, the more the city's warmth faded behind him. The lanterns lining the outer roads grew fewer, their glow barely reaching past the immediate path. Soon, only the moon above offered any real light.

His thoughts wandered as he moved.

This city… it's not what I expected.

He had imagined something more welcoming, just like the fantasy novels he read. The protagonist would get to the adventurers guild and then his talent would get noticed. But what did he get until now? Despise, rejection and that's all. 

The Hunter's Guild had given him a foothold, but that was all it was—a chance. If he wanted to survive, if he wanted to carve out a place for himself, he needed strength. And for that, he needed essence.

His fingers twitched toward his status window, but he already knew what he'd see. Zero essence. 

I have to fight again.

His grip tightened on the hilt of his sword. His last fights had been pure instinct, desperation driving him forward. This time, he had to be smarter. More calculated. He needed to choose his prey wisely—something strong enough to give him essence, but not so strong that it would rip him apart before he had the chance to land a hit.

He exhaled, rolling his shoulders. Just get to the forest first. Then—

A sharp snap echoed through the night.

Gabriel froze mid-step.

The sound hadn't come from him. It was close—too close.

His heart pounded against his ribs as he slowly turned his head, scanning the darkness. The road stretched ahead, lined by thick undergrowth that led into the forest's outer edges. The trees loomed in the distance, their branches swaying gently in the breeze. Nothing moved.

But something was there.

He could feel it.

A prickling unease crawled up Gabriel's spine, his instincts tightening around him like a vice. His grip firmed on the hilt of his sword, the rough leather pressing into his palm as he took a slow, deliberate step forward. The night was still, the air thick with silence—until it wasn't.

A sharp, sudden release of tension cut through the quiet. The distinct snap of a bowstring, the whisper of something slicing through the air with lethal speed. Gabriel's breath caught. He didn't think—he moved.

 Gabriel dove to the side, the air slicing past him as an arrow whistled through the space where his chest had been a second ago.

Pain exploded in his shoulder.

The impact sent him sprawling, his knees hitting the dirt hard as a burning sensation spread through his upper arm. The arrow had punched clean through his shoulder, the shaft quivering from the force of the shot. Blood soaked into his already-ruined clothes, warm and sticky.

Damn it.

He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to move, rolling behind the thick roots of a nearby tree just as another arrow embedded itself into the dirt where he had been kneeling.

His breath came fast and uneven. He had to move, had to think.

His eyes darted through the darkness, searching for his attacker. And then he saw it.

A figure stood at the treeline, half-hidden by the underbrush. It was smaller than a human but broader and more imposing than the frail, skulking goblins Gabriel had seen before. The creature's body was lean and sinewy, built for speed and precision, its posture low and predatory.

Moonlight caught the crude armor covering its form—overlapping plates of scavenged metal, strapped together with strips of worn leather. The plating was uneven, dented in places, clearly repurposed from larger creatures or fallen warriors. Beneath it, glimpses of rough, scaly hide peeked through—deep crimson, with faint patterns of dark striping running along its limbs and tail.

Unlike the hunched, rat-like kobolds of stories, this one had long limbs built for explosive movement, clawed feet that dug into the dirt for stability, and a powerful tail that twitched slightly behind it, adjusting for balance. The creature's elongated snout was filled with rows of sharp, needle-like teeth, and its nostrils flared as it exhaled, tracking Gabriel's scent.

Its slitted, reptilian eyes gleamed in the darkness, reflecting the moonlight in a predatory shimmer. Gabriel's mind raced. The kobold shifted its stance, adjusting its footing. The talons on its feet flexed against the dirt, its long tail flicking slightly. 

Then, Gabriel's stomach twisted.

Perched atop the kobold's back, gripping the creature's shoulders with bony fingers, was a goblin. Smaller, wiry, and grinning with jagged teeth, it had a bow drawn and aimed directly at him.

Two of them.

The realization sent a surge of cold terror through Gabriel's veins. One opponent was already too much. Without thinking, he launched himself to the side, circling the kobold in a desperate attempt to throw off their aim. His legs burned, his injured shoulder flaring with pain as the motion sent fresh waves of agony rolling through his body. The world blurred for a moment, his vision flickering at the edges from the sheer strain.

The terrain offered little cover. Open space. Sparse trees. Occasional bushes that wouldn't stop an arrow.

He needed something—anything—to put between himself and them.

Then, he spotted it. A tree, thick enough to shield him. It wasn't far, but with his injury slowing him down, it might as well have been a kilometer away.

Gabriel bolted.

Pain exploded through his shoulder, sharp and searing. Every step felt like someone was driving a knife deeper into the wound. His breath came in ragged, uneven gasps, his lungs burning. His body wanted to stop—to collapse—but he forced himself forward.

The kobold didn't hesitate.

A second shot was loosed, and Gabriel heard it coming before he saw it. His instincts screamed. He threw himself sideways, barely in control of his own movement. The arrow sliced through the air, so close he felt the wind shift against his cheek—then the sting.

A flash of pain. A hot trickle of blood.

His vision blurred. The moment stretched, his body twisting midair, the force of his own desperate dodge sending him tumbling. The world tilted, his limbs sluggish, his breath caught in his throat. The impact came hard—his side hit the dirt, momentum rolling him once, twice—then stillness.

For a moment, he couldn't move. His body refused.

His hands trembled against the ground. His wounded shoulder throbbed violently, his cheek burned, and his lungs screamed for air. His vision swam, stars bursting at the edges.

Get up.

His fingers dug into the earth.

He pushed.

The bark of the tree was rough beneath his palm as he threw himself behind it, his back slamming against the trunk. His breath was ragged, his pulse hammering against his ribs like a drum.

He had made it.

But only barely.

Blood dripped down his cheek, warm and sticky. His shoulder felt like it was on fire, and his whole body trembled—not just from exhaustion, but from the sheer terror of how close that had been.

The kobold was still out there. The goblin was still aiming.

And Gabriel was pinned.

He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to focus. He had seconds—seconds—before they repositioned, before they found a way to flush him out.

He needed a plan.

And fast.