Chapter 5

  Size 13

  ?

  His muscles tensed against the rough bark.

  Goblin was too loud.

  Keys were too loud.

  Everything was too damn loud.

  ?

  He scanned the dense line of trees scanning for any more movement.

  Nothing else yet.

  He immediately flattened himself against the thick trunk, using his height advantage to carefully observe the approaching figures.

  They crept out of the trees.

  The leader's feather headdress standing tall.

  Bet he thinks he's important.

  One follower carried a spear, the other a club.

  All had tattered leather armor.

  Fuck.

  They found their dead buddy and went full CSI—kneeling, grunting, pointing at footprints.

  Like they are solving a murder or something.

  Ken's eyes widened.

  Oh, they can track.

  Great.

  ?

  ?"This is going to be a problem," Ken muttered, his breath hitching as he finally registered the scale of his current situation.

  Don’t think.

  Thinking’s for idiots.

  Move.

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  Take out the leader first.

  Now.

  ?

  Shimmying until he was directly above headdress gobbo, who was thankfully still crouched below, intently focused on analyzing the ‘crime scene’.

  ?

  Ken let go.

  He didn't just fall, he accelerated.

  Two hundred pounds of Ohio muscle and steel-toed intent slammed into the leader.

  Reinforced bones turned shins into iron pillars, driving the goblin into the dirt with a sickening, wet crunch.

  There was a partial surprised squawk as its ribcage and spine were crushed.

  The little guy provided a mild cushion that slightly softened Ken's landing.

  ?He didn't pause to register the impact.

  He awkwardly rolled off the body, scrambling to regain his feet.

  ?In that half-second of awkwardness, the club-wielder charged.

  Low arc swing – blunt force hammered across Ken’s shoulders.

  Pain exploded.

  He tumbled forward, turning the stumble into a rough roll that bought a few feet of distance.

  Ow. Fuck.

  Shrugging his shoulders with a wince, he sprang back to his feet.

  The club-wielding goblin, feeling some bravado from its recent success, charged him again.

  ?

  The green bastard swung downward in an overhead chop.

  Ken reacted quickly using his left forearm to deflect the wild club swing to the side, sending up a sharp shock of pain.

  With the goblin momentarily off-balance, Ken drove his right fist straight into the ugly mug, stunning the creature.

  He didn't give it a chance to recover, he finished the combination with a brutal left hook.

  KO.

  The spear holder was not impressed.

  As its comrade fell, it gave a surprisingly impressive, guttural battle cry and charged in from Ken's left.

  Its spear struck like a snake.

  Hyper-Responsive Nerves fired a millisecond after the spear parted air.

  He didn't think.

  He just wasn't there anymore.

  The spear hissed through the space his heart had occupied a heartbeat ago.

  Before it could retract, he dropped his weight and delivered a devastating right elbow directly to its right temple.

  KO number two.

  Ken didn't wait for them to wake up.

  There’s no mercy in Hardcore!

  He moved toward the twitching forms with heavy, deliberate steps.

  It’s stomping time.

  ?With the two grunt kills confirmed, he glanced at the fancy one.

  Yup, still crushed.

  With ?the immediate threat gone, Ken felt the full weight of the last fifteen minutes of adrenaline and exertion crash down on him.

  He looked down at his quivering legs.

  My boots are disgusting.