Level Up!

As the Hobgoblin stood over the spot where the adventurer had vanished, the battle’s aftermath settled over him. His breathing slowed, the adrenaline fading, replaced by a sudden rush of awareness.

A flurry of notifications had flashed before his eyes, but in the heat of the fight he hadn’t registered them. Now, with the forest silent around him, he blinked and pulled up his Character Sheet with a flicker of thought

[Character Sheet]

Name: [Unnamed]

Monster, Hobgoblin, Explicit

Class: Runt

Level: 4 (+1)

HP: 20 → 22

Stamina: 12/18

XP to Next Level: 120

Attributes:

Strength: 8 → 9

Dexterity: 7

Constitution: 9

Intelligence: 6

Wisdom: 5

Charisma: 3

Skills:

Harvesting (Basic): 3

Stealth (Basic): 4

Survival (Basic): 4 (+3)

Combat Abilities:

Parry: Redirect an opponent's attack, reducing damage taken.

Precision Strike: Focus on a weak point, adding extra damage to a single attack.

Tactical Assessment: Analyse an opponent’s movements to gain insight into their next action.

Perks:

Tactical Awareness: Hobgoblins are strategic and cunning warriors, with a keen sense of battlefield tactics and the ability to coordinate group efforts. This leads to improved teamwork and coordination in combat situations.

Hobgoblin Tingle: The Hobgoblin’s phallus causes pleasurable euphoric sensations to assist with copulation.

Resistance to Fear: Hobgoblins possess a higher resistance to fear and intimidation, allowing them to remain focused and disciplined in the face of danger.

Adaptability: Hobgoblins are renowned for their ability to adapt to various environments and situations, making them versatile and resourceful allies or enemies. Survival +3

Resistances:

Poison Resistance: 1

Fire Resistance: 1

Fear Resistance: 6

He stared at the screen in shock. Level 4. He’d levelled up. He’d actually levelled up. A surge of joy and disbelief washed over him. This was the first time he could remember this happening. Adventurers and monsters had always gained levels by killing, but for him, it had always been… different. He was just part of the cycle—an NPC, a mob to be killed, not someone who could grow stronger.

But now, here it was, right in front of him. His stats had improved, even if only slightly, and his hit points had increased. It wasn’t much, but it was more than he’d ever dared hope for. For a moment, a flicker of something unfamiliar stirred in his chest. Was it pride? Hope? He wasn’t sure. But whatever it was, it felt good.

The Hobgoblin grinned—a rare, sharp‑toothed smile—and clenched his fists, feeling a little stronger, a little faster. The next adventurer that came through might still kill him, but now… now he had a chance. The smallest of chances, but a chance nonetheless.

He closed the character sheet and looked back down at the glowing loot bag.

Tentatively, he knelt, his hand shaking as he reached for the pouch. The moment his fingers brushed the edge, a soft chime echoed in his head, and the contents spilled out onto the ground.

Loot:

[Gold Coins: 35]

[Dark Leather Armour]

[Claimant Crystal]

He blinked. The armour caught his eye first. Black leather, once contoured to the elf’s lithe frame, now lay flat and neutral, reshaped by the drop. Could it fit him? The thought made him pause, but he knew he would need better protection if more adventurers came. His ragged clothes were nothing compared to this.

But the armour wasn’t the strangest thing in the pile.

His gaze fixed on the last item: a jagged gem glimmering with faint inner light. Rough, yet impossibly smooth, as if it didn’t entirely belong to this world. The glow pulsed slowly, rhythmically—like a heartbeat, ancient and steady. The moment he looked at it, a flood of unfamiliar knowledge surged through his mind.

[Claimant Crystal: Bind a location as your own, transforming it into a Dungeon Core.]

The Hobgoblin frowned, confusion swirling. He shouldn’t know this. Monsters like him weren’t supposed to understand adventurer loot, let alone wield it. Yet the knowledge was there, clear and undeniable.

His heart raced, fear and curiosity twisting together. Could he even use it? Why had it dropped from her? And why did it feel… meant for him?

His breath quickened as another thought struck.

Liraen.

He remembered the name attached to her armour before the drop—Liraen’s Shadowstalker’s Black Armour. That must have been hers. Adventurers didn’t die forever. They respawned elsewhere, always returning. And when she came back, she would remember. She would hunt him.

The image of her bow drawn, her face twisted in rage, sent a shiver down his spine. He had been lucky once. He might not be again.

Fear clawed at him, but he forced it down. He had to move quickly, gather the loot, and get back to the safety of his cave. He scooped up the coins, strapped the armour to his back, and took the sword. The Claimant Crystal he tucked carefully into his pack, unsettled by its weight and presence.

“Gotta go. Gotta hide,” he muttered, voice barely above a whisper as he glanced nervously around the forest.

With a final look at the clearing, he slipped into the undergrowth. His movements were quick but cautious, each step muffled against the forest floor. Every snap of a twig or rustle of leaves sent his pulse racing. His newly gained strength did little to calm the ever‑present fear that something stronger was already watching.