The Blackspine Mountains showed no mercy. Every step higher clawed at our strength. Thin air burned our lungs, and the wind howled like vengeful spirits through the jagged rocks. Several of the freed slaves stumbled often, their malnourished bodies pushed to the brink. I didn’t slow down. Weakness here meant death for them and for me.
Lira moved with surprising grace despite her injuries, her fox ears twitching at every distant sound. Garrick kept the rear, his soldier’s instincts sharp even after years of chains. Elara stayed close, silent most of the time, her hollow eyes flicking between me and the trail behind us. The other nineteen who remained were a ragged mix of farmers, craftsmen, a few former guards turned traitor who now regretted their choices.
Complaints started by midday. "We should’ve scattered," one man muttered loud enough for me to hear. "This madman’s going to get us all killed chasing ghosts in the mountains."
I ignored him for now, if he wanted he could leave, it wasn’t as though he was contributing much to the group anyway.
During a short breather under an overhang, Lira shared more about the world. "The Beast Wars ended two years ago. Humans thought their kingdoms were untouchable. Then the orcs, goblins, and dwarves united under leaders like Grimgor. Some say humans betrayed each other first, nobles selling out their own for power. Now beastkin rule most of the continent. The strong eat the weak. That’s the law here."
Garrick nodded grimly. "Harr fell fast. My Border Legion held for three days. Then the orcs brought trolls." He glanced at me. "You don’t talk like a farmer from Harr. That fighting style... no amount of ’self-training’ explains what you did back at the camp."
I met his eyes coldly. "I trained myself in blood. The orcs took everything from me. Rage does the rest." The lie came easy. My past life as Antoine Freeman, the assassin who ended lives for money and principle stayed buried. These people didn’t need to know they followed a killer from another world.
Elara spoke softly. "My village burned too. They killed my parents in front of me... took me for the pits." Her voice cracked, but she straightened. "I’ll follow you. You killed Karg."
I said nothing. Their stories painted a clear picture: humans were prey in this world. A miracle wouldn’t save them. But a system and a man who knew how to wield violence might.
We pushed on through a sudden mountain storm. Rain lashed down, turning paths to slick mud. One older slave slipped and tumbled down a ravine. His screams cut short. No one suggested going back for the body.
By late afternoon, as the rain eased into mist, Lira pointed ahead. "There. The dwarven ruin."
It emerged from the mountainside like the bones of a dead giant. Ancient stone halls carved directly into the rock, overgrown with thick vines and moss. Parts of the structure had collapsed, but the main gatehouse and outer walls still stood, offering natural choke points. Dwarven runes, marked the entrance. Abandoned since the Beast Wars, just as she’d said.
We approached cautiously. I took point, axe ready, Brutal Strike humming at the edge of my mind. The air inside smelled of dust, old metal, and faint decay.
[Location Discovered: Kharadun Outpost (Abandoned Dwarven Ruin)]
[System Note: Defensible structure. Potential for basic fortification.]
We moved through the outer courtyard. Scattered bones, dwarven and orcish, littered the ground from old battles. In a side chamber we found rusted weapons, cracked shields, and a few sealed barrels of preserved dwarven rations. Hard bread and salted meat that tasted like salvation after days of moldy crusts.
Deeper in, near an old forge, I triggered the quest completion.
[Quest Complete: Escape Grimgor’s Reach]
[Rewards: 150 XP, Skill Upgrade Token, Basic Camp Setup Blueprint]
[Level Up! You have reached Level 3.]
HP and Stamina increased. +5 Attribute Points available.]
[Total XP: 312/200 → Overflow applied. Level 3 — 112/300 XP]
Warm power flooded my body again. Wounds closed further. My HP shot up, and the constant fatigue from the march lifted. I allocated the new points: two into Strength, two into Agility, and one into Endurance. The body felt less like a liability and more like a weapon again.
I used the Skill Upgrade Token immediately on Brutal Strike.
[Brutal Strike upgraded to Level 2: +45% damage, improved stun chance, minor bleed effect.]
Satisfaction rolled through me. This was how empires started, not with grand declarations, but with steady accumulation of power.
While the group set up camp using the Basic Camp Setup Blueprint which manifested as simple instructions for barricades, fire pits, and basic traps, I explored deeper into the ruins with Lira and Garrick. Ancient forges stood cold but intact. A collapsed armory yielded a few serviceable spears and a dwarven short sword that felt well-balanced in my hand.
Then came the trouble.
A low growl echoed from the inner halls. Shadows moved. Goblins, filthy, scrawny creatures with yellow eyes and jagged blades had made the ruin their nest. A small warband, maybe a dozen, drawn by the same shelter we sought.
They attacked at dusk.
"Contact!" I roared as the first goblin lunged from a side tunnel, crude spear thrusting at Elara.
I moved faster than before. Brutal Strike activated on my axe swing. The blade cleaved through the goblin’s shoulder and into its chest with a wet crunch, the new bleed effect causing dark blood to spray violently. It dropped instantly.
[You have slain Level 1 Goblin Skirmisher. +4 XP]
Chaos erupted. The freed slaves fought desperately with scavenged weapons. Garrick held a choke point like the sergeant he once was, shield-bashing goblins back. Lira’s spear darted with scout precision, impaling one through the throat.
A goblin chieftain, larger, with crude bone armor charged me, swinging a rusted cleaver. I sidestepped, wrapped my free hand around its wrist using old martial techniques, and drove my knee into its elbow. Bone snapped. Then the axe came down.
[You have slain Level 4 Goblin Chieftain. +22 XP]
The remaining goblins hesitated, fear in their beady eyes when they looked at me. Two fled. The rest died under our combined assault. Three of our people fell in the fighting, good men and women who simply weren’t strong enough yet. Their deaths were a harsh lesson.
After the last goblin choked on its own blood, silence returned to the ruins, broken only by heavy breathing and crackling fires.
I stood over the chieftain’s corpse, breathing steady. The system pinged again.
[Loot Extraction Available.]
[Minor Mana Crystal (x1) acquired – Can be used for crafting or future enchantments.]
Garrick wiped blood from his sword and approached, eyes wary. "You fight like a demon. We lost three today. These people need more than just survival orders. They need hope."
I cleaned my axe on the chieftain’s rags. "Hope is earned through strength. People die during battles, it’s best if we don’t waste our time mourning."
Lira nodded slowly. "He’s right. The beasts won’t show mercy. We’ve claimed this ruin. It’s a start."
Elara, blood-spattered but alive, looked at me with renewed awe. "What do we do now?"
There wasn’t really much to do. For now we’d rest, tend to wounds and hope that we don’t get found in our sleep.
As night fully claimed the mountains, another notification appeared.
[Outpost Claimed: Kharadun Ruins (Basic)]
[New System Feature Unlocked: Simple Base Management]
[Current Followers: 17]
[Next Objective Teased: Develope Your Base]