Deadly Ambush

Valerian ventured forth from his cave, the sun casting long shadows as it marked the passage of time. Though the day still had its grip on the land, Valerian knew that darkness would eventually descend. It was in this dwindling daylight that he set out with purpose, his gaze trained on the environment around him. He had ample time left before the sun surrendered its dominion.

He strode with determination, his steps echoing through the underbrush as he headed in the direction where his previous prey had met their untimely end. The remnants of goblin carnage lay scattered about, a grisly testament to the brutality of this world. Valerian's gaze narrowed, scanning the surroundings for any signs of movement or life.

His instincts served him well as he caught sight of a solitary figure—a lone goblin—engaged in some activity near a bush. Valerian's lips curled into a predatory grin, his hunter's instincts taking over. He moved stealthily, each step calculated to minimize sound and visibility. Closer and closer he crept, the anticipation of the ambush quickening his pulse.

And then, just as he prepared to strike, chaos erupted. A force struck him from behind, a savage impact that sent him crashing out of the bush, his head spinning with pain. Blood oozed from a gash on his temple, his vision a blur of disorientation. He struggled to make sense of what had just transpired, his senses overwhelmed by the assault.

As the ringing in his ears subsided, Valerian's gaze sharpened, revealing a new threat. Another goblin stood where he had intended to ambush, a crude wooden club clutched in its blood-smeared hand. Though Valerian's hearing remained muted by the impact, he could make out their gestures, their intent all too clear.

He summoned his skill 'Radiant Healing,' a desperate attempt to mend his wounded body. His vision cleared enough to glimpse his health, a temporary relief flooding him: '150/220.' The realization hit him hard: the ambush had been turned on him, a painful reminder of his vulnerability.

"F-ck," he thought, his bravado shattered. The goblins now focused on him, their predatory intent chilling his spine. Desperation propelled Valerian back to his feet, his weapon and shield in hand. His skill had boosted his health to '170/220,' a small comfort amidst the chaos.

He steadied himself, gripping his weapon and raising his shield. These goblins were unlike the fantasies he had entertained, the creatures of his stories replaced by something far more sinister and primal. Their forms, though short in stature, exuded a raw and unsettling power. Muscles rippled beneath their skin, their eyes gleamed with a feral intelligence, and their features were a blend of menace and predatory grace.

Valerian swallowed hard as he observed them, the realization hitting him like a crushing weight. These were no mere cannon fodder, no disposable foes from the pages of his fantasies. They were hunters—swift, vicious, and ruthless. The discrepancy between his expectations and reality robbed him of any bravado he had mustered.

Fear took hold of Valerian's heart, its icy grip a stark reminder of his mortality. The temptation to flee clawed at him, but it was a fleeting thought. Even if his armor weighed him down and his agility betrayed him, fleeing into their territory was tantamount to suicide.

No, he had to stand his ground, to face this brutal reality head-on. He raised his sword, his breath quickening, the weight of his fear and desperation fueling a primal determination. These goblins had shattered his illusions, and in their place, they had left him with only one option: to fight.