Many hours later, Travis stirred on the cold, hard ground, the roughness of the earth pressing against his limbs as he slowly regained consciousness. A dull ache spread across his body, each movement reminding him of the toll the battle had taken. He groaned softly, his mind hazy as he pushed himself into a sitting position. His head felt heavy, but the pain was different now—a lingering dullness rather than the overwhelming agony he’d felt before.


    Travis cursed internally, frustration bubbling up. He was tired of passing out after every fight, always succumbing to the exhaustion that followed the intense battles. But this time, it was different. For the first time, he didn’t mind.


    The pain from earlier had been unlike anything he''d ever experienced, and even though it had nearly broken him, the thought of it made him grateful for the brief escape that unconsciousness had given him.


    As he stood, his muscles protesting with each movement, his gaze wandered across the clearing. The remnants of his sword were nowhere to be found. A soft sigh escaped his lips as he noticed the faint, scattered traces of dust, carried away by the wind. It was gone. Just like that.


    "I’ll sure miss that sword," he muttered under his breath. Without it, he doubted he would have even survived the battle. It had been more than just a weapon; it had been a lifeline. His only real companion in this strange world.


    With a heavy heart, he turned away from the remnants of the Goblin camp and made his way toward the tree where he had stashed his bag earlier.


    He grabbed it, slinging it over his shoulder, and walked toward the river. The cool morning air brushed against his skin, a welcome relief after the heat of the previous day’s chaos.


    Travis sat on the riverbank, watching the sun slowly rise in the sky, casting a soft orange glow over the landscape. He couldn''t help but feel a strange sense of peace for the moment, the quiet stillness of the morning soothing his bruised and battered body.


    He glanced down at himself, his clothes tattered and torn. Half-naked, he felt the sting of the cold air against his skin, but he didn’t mind. In this moment, it didn''t matter.


    He slid into the river, the cool water rushing over his body, numbing the soreness in his muscles. The current carried away the last remnants of his exhaustion, and for a few moments, he simply floated.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    His mind drifted, and he couldn''t help but wonder about the strange power he''d felt earlier. That energy, that surge that had consumed him, had felt... different. He couldn''t explain it. It had been something beyond his reach, beyond what he should’ve been able to handle.


    Too early, he thought. It was too early for him to unlock whatever that power was, and the price he’d paid for it—the excruciating pain, the withdrawal—was proof enough of that.


    ''Oh well, I''ll find out one day, I guess,'' he mused as he let himself float further downstream, his body weightless in the cool water. For now, all he could do was keep moving forward.


    He opened up his stats and smiled, his eyes scanning the numbers as he took in the growth.


    『Name: Travis Blackthorn


    Age: 17


    Level: 20


    Stats:


    Strength: 10/10


    Speed: 10/10


    Flexibility: 10/10


    Stamina: 10/10


    Luck: 1/10


    Mana: 999/1000』**


    "Well, that’s a huge improvement," he muttered to himself, admiring the changes. His strength, speed, and stamina were maxed out, each stat brimming with newfound power. But then his eyes fell on his luck.


    "Luck... still one," he sighed, shaking his head. "Guess that''s a sign that I''m destined for shit. Well, whatever. I’m half-naked and in need of some clothes," he thought, a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth.


    The irony wasn’t lost on him, but there was no time to dwell on it. He had other priorities.


    The cool river water still clung to his skin as he climbed out, feeling the crisp air bite against his bare flesh. His stomach growled, reminding him of the emptiness within. Reaching into his bag, he pulled out some dried meat and fruit, devouring the food quickly. The nutrients filled him, but the hunger still lingered, gnawing at him.


    "Guess this is what it feels like to be a walking survivalist," he muttered, finishing off the last bite before packing everything back into his bag. With his strength restored, he stood up, brushed the dirt from his legs, and slung the bag over his shoulder.


    His next destination was the Goblin King’s tent. Travis had no real reason to go back, but something tugged at him, a feeling he couldn’t shake. He made his way to the now-silent village, the stench of blood and decay hanging in the air.


    When he entered the tent, the first thing he noticed was the grisly sight of what appeared to be a woman’s lifeless body, her skin stretched unnaturally, blood still seeping from the wounds. His stomach churned, and he gagged, the sight far too reminiscent of horror stories he’d heard back on Earth.


    "I guess Goblin Slayer wasn’t lying," he muttered to himself, his voice barely above a whisper. The grim reality of this world was beginning to sink in, its cruelty unfolding before his eyes.


    He stepped over the remains, refusing to let the sight linger in his mind. He scanned the tent for anything useful—weapons, supplies, something to aid him in his journey. But the tent was barren, save for the woman’s body. Frustration crept up on him as he frowned, disappointed by the lack of anything useful.


    "Great. Just my luck," he muttered, running a hand through his damp hair.


    With a heavy sigh, Travis walked out of the tent, feeling as if the world were closing in on him. As soon as his foot stepped outside, he heard a soft voice, a whisper on the wind.


    "Thank you."


    His blood ran cold, his heart skipping a beat as he spun around, searching for the source. But there was nothing—no sign of life, no figure. His instincts screamed at him to run, but his mind quickly dismissed the thought.


    Being someone who didn’t believe in ghosts or spirits, he shrugged it off, chalking it up to the wind or his own tired mind playing tricks on him. "Just my luck," he muttered again, this time with a half-hearted chuckle as he walked away from the village, the strange words still echoing in his ears.


    "I think I’m ready for the outside world," he thought, a strange feeling of finality settling over him. There were bigger challenges ahead, and for the first time, he was beginning to feel like he could face them.


    TO BE CONTINUED