The goblin's yellow tooth lay in my palm, a grim trophy from my first battle in this new reality. I stared at it, still struggling to process everything that had happened. The creature's final moments replayed in my mind – the wet crack of metal against skull, those alien eyes dimming, the blue lights announcing my... victory? Was that what this was?

  I closed my fist around the tooth, its sharp edge pressing into my skin. "Status," I whispered again, needing to confirm I hadn't hallucinated the floating window.

  The blue screen materialized instantly, hanging in the air before me:

  [Character Sheet: Erik Persson] [Level: 2] [Experience: 50/500] [Health: 58/100] [Mana: 70/70] [Stamina: 42/60]

  [Attributes:] [Strength: 8] [Agility: 11] [Vitality: 8] [Intelligence: 16] [Wisdom: 11] [Charisma: 9]

  [Unique Talent: Mormor's Prodigy]

  [Inventory:] [Empty]

  Real. This was real. I studied the numbers, trying to make sense of them. My intelligence was my highest stat, which seemed fitting – school had always come easily to me. Strength and vitality were my lowest, also unsurprising given my lanky frame. But what did these values mean in practical terms? Was 8 strength below average? Average? And "Mormor's Prodigy"... seeing her name there made my throat tighten.

  I tapped the words experimentally, hoping for more information. Nothing happened.

  "Show talent details," I tried.

  A smaller window appeared:

  [Mormor's Prodigy: When a skill reaches Intermediate rank, that skill gains experience 500% faster. However, all subsequent skills that reach Intermediate rank will gain experience 500% slower.]

  I frowned, trying to understand the implications. So the first skill I developed to "Intermediate" would grow extremely quickly, but everything after that would be painfully slow? It seemed like a strange mixture of blessing and curse.

  The goblin tooth was still in my hand. I looked at the "Inventory" section of my status window. Empty. But how did I use it?

  "Inventory," I said tentatively.

  A new window appeared, a simple grid of empty squares. I held up the tooth, wondering how this worked. Did I just... push it in somehow?

  I mimicked placing the tooth into one of the squares. To my surprise, the tooth vanished from my hand, appearing as an image in the inventory window:

  [Goblin Tooth: Trophy from your first kill. Quality: Poor]

  "That's... convenient," I murmured, finding a strange comfort in the small victory of figuring out how something worked in this alien system.

  I closed the windows with a thought and surveyed my surroundings. The sky continued to darken, those strange auroras dimming while unfamiliar stars grew brighter. I needed shelter, and soon.

  My gaze returned to the partially intact building I'd spotted earlier. It was about half a kilometer away, rising from the rubble like a broken tooth. Getting there meant crossing open ground, potentially exposing myself to more creatures like the goblin. But staying here, injured and exposed, wasn't an option.

  I checked my wounds. The slash on my thigh had stopped bleeding but throbbed painfully. The scratches on my arms and back stung but weren't serious. My sprained wrist was the most hampering injury, limiting my ability to wield the rebar effectively.

  I tore a strip from the bottom of my shirt and bound my wrist as best I could, then gripped the bloodied rebar. It was hardly an ideal weapon, but it had proven effective enough.

  "Health," I said, wondering if I could get more specific information.

  A new window appeared:

  [Health Status: 58/100] [Minor Lacerations: -5 Maximum Health (Healing naturally: ~2 hours)] [Wrist Sprain: -10% Accuracy with two-handed weapons (Healing naturally: ~24 hours)] [Bleeding (Stopped): No current effects]

  That was useful to know. According to this, my cuts would heal in a couple of hours on their own. The wrist would take longer. At least it confirmed I wouldn't bleed out from my current injuries.

  I needed a plan. The goal was obvious: find Marcus and Sofia. But how? I had no idea where they might be, or even if we were still in the same... world? Dimension? Whatever had happened had clearly transformed reality itself.

  For now, survival had to be the priority. Food, water, better shelter, a proper weapon. Then I could focus on finding my friends.

  "Close all," I said, dismissing the windows. I took a deep breath, steeled myself, and began picking my way toward the distant building.

  The landscape was alien, yet hauntingly familiar. Broken roads and shattered structures could have been from any disaster zone. Yet small details nagged at me. A half-buried sign that seemed to be in Swedish, but with words spelled oddly. The architecture of the ruined buildings – not quite right, like someone had described Swedish design to a foreigner who'd never seen it.

  Was this still Earth? It seemed impossible, yet... I passed what looked like the remains of a bus stop, the metal twisted but recognizable. A shattered display window with mannequins spilled across the rubble. Familiar, but wrong.

  It was as if someone had taken the world I knew and... rearranged it. Compressed it. Things that shouldn't be near each other now stood side by side.

  I kept to the shadows as much as possible, freezing at every sound. Twice I had to duck behind rubble as dark shapes moved in the distance – larger than the goblin I'd fought, their silhouettes distinctly inhuman. I waited until they passed before continuing, heart hammering in my chest.

  I was about halfway to my destination when I heard it – that same chittering growl from earlier. Close. Too close.

  I spun around, raising the rebar just as a goblin lunged from atop a pile of debris. This one was slightly larger than the first, with a crude knife clutched in one gnarled hand.

  [Goblin, Level 2]

  The blue text appeared in my vision, confirming my suspicion that this one might be more dangerous. I barely had time to register this before it attacked, knife slashing toward my abdomen.

  I jumped back, the blade missing by centimeters. The goblin snarled, those same yellow eyes gleaming with malice and hunger. But this time, something was different. My perception seemed... sharper. I noticed how it favored its right side, how its weight shifted before it attacked.

  The goblin lunged again. I sidestepped, swinging the rebar in a controlled arc that connected with its shoulder. It shrieked, stumbling but not falling.

  "Come on then," I growled, surprising myself with the challenge. Fear still pumped through me, but it was different now – focused, usable.

  The goblin circled warily, seemingly reassessing its prey. I kept my makeshift weapon between us, watching its movements. It feinted left, then attacked right – the same trick as the first goblin. This time, I was ready.

  I blocked the knife with the rebar, metal screeching against metal, then kicked out hard, catching the creature in the chest. It tumbled backward, giving me the opening I needed. I stepped forward and brought the rebar down with all the force I could muster.

  The fight ended quickly after that.

  As the goblin's body dissolved into those strange motes of light, another notification appeared:

  [Experience Gained: +75] [Skill Acquired: Basic Blunt Weapons (Level 1)] [Item Acquired: Crude Knife]

  I bent down, picking up the knife the goblin had dropped. It was poorly made but sharper than it looked, with a jagged edge and a handle wrapped in some kind of rough hide.

  "Inventory," I said, storing the knife alongside the tooth. Then, curious: "Skill details."

  [Basic Blunt Weapons (Level 1): You have rudimentary knowledge of how to fight with clubs, staves, and similar weapons. +5% to accuracy and damage with blunt weapons.]

  As I read the description, I realized something had changed. The rebar in my hand felt... right somehow. Where before I'd swung it clumsily, now I had an intuitive sense of its weight, its balance. Not expertise by any means, but as if I'd had a few basic lessons rather than none at all.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Was this how skills worked? Not just numbers on a screen but actual knowledge implanted in my mind?

  Before I could ponder this further, a sound from behind had me whirling around, weapon raised.

  Another goblin stood there, this one even larger, with mottled gray-green skin and a crude club studded with nails.

  [Goblin Warrior, Level 3]

  I didn't wait for it to attack. I charged, using the momentum to drive the end of the rebar into its midsection. It grunted, doubling over, but recovered quickly, swinging its club in a wide arc.

  I ducked under the swing and struck again, this time at its knee. There was a satisfying crack, and the goblin howled, toppling to one side. I followed up with a decisive blow to its head.

  As its body began to dissolve, the notifications appeared:

  [Experience Gained: +120] [Basic Blunt Weapons has increased to Level 2] [Item Acquired: Nail Club] [Item Acquired: Leather Scraps]

  I was breathing hard, but not from exertion. The fight had been... efficient. Almost methodical. Nothing like the desperate struggle with the first goblin. Part of me was disturbed by how quickly I'd adapted to killing, how the revulsion had been replaced by tactical thinking. Another part recognized it as necessary for survival.

  What disturbed me more was how the goblins seemed utterly indifferent to the deaths of their own kind. The second hadn't hesitated to attack me even after seeing its fellow dissolve into light. The third had shown up alone, as if hunting solo rather than seeking revenge for its fallen comrades.

  These weren't like wolves or other pack animals that protected their own. Whatever these goblins were, they had no apparent loyalty to each other. It made them more alien, somehow. More monstrous.

  I examined the nail club I'd acquired, summoning it from my inventory. It was a crude weapon – little more than a thick branch with rusted nails hammered through it – but it had a brutal effectiveness to it. I compared it to my bloodied rebar, checking the damage numbers in my inventory:

  [Rebar: An improvised metal weapon. Damage: 4-7] [Nail Club: A brutal bludgeoning weapon. Damage: 7-12]

  The difference was significant. The nail club was heavier, requiring more strength to swing effectively, but its damage output was nearly double my current weapon. I hefted it experimentally, getting a feel for its weight and balance. My sprained wrist protested, but the potential advantage seemed worth the discomfort.

  I stored the rebar in my inventory and kept the nail club in hand. Better to adapt and improve than stick with the familiar if I wanted to survive.

  I continued toward the building, moving more confidently now but still cautious. As I got closer, I could see it had once been some kind of store or warehouse, with half its roof intact and walls on three sides. Good enough for temporary shelter.

  The entrance was partially blocked by fallen debris, but I managed to squeeze through a gap. Inside, it was darker, the strange starlight barely penetrating through broken windows. I waited for my eyes to adjust, alert for any movement or sound.

  The space was large and mostly empty, with toppled shelves and scattered debris. No immediate signs of danger. I explored cautiously, searching for anything useful.

  In what might have been a storage room, I hit the jackpot: several sealed containers that had survived whatever cataclysm had transformed the world. I pried one open to find packaged food items – nothing I recognized, but clearly designed for consumption. Another held what appeared to be bottled water, though the containers were oddly shaped.

  I was debating how to proceed when a familiar chittering sound came from outside. Goblins. Several of them, by the sound of it.

  I crept to a window and peered out. In the eerie starlight, I could make out five or six small figures moving through the ruins, clearly searching for something. Hunting. Maybe hunting me.

  Taking on that many would be suicide. I needed stealth, not confrontation.

  I retreated deeper into the building, looking for a defensible position or a hiding place. A narrow staircase led to a partial second floor – more of a loft area. Perfect. I gathered as many supplies as I could carry and made my way up quietly.

  The wooden steps creaked treacherously. I froze as one particularly loud groan echoed through the quiet building. The chittering outside paused momentarily, then resumed, closer now. They'd heard.

  I abandoned stealth for speed, hurrying up the remaining steps just as the first goblin squeezed through the entrance below. From my vantage point, I could see it sniffing the air, those yellow eyes scanning the darkness.

  I crouched lower, hardly daring to breathe. Two more goblins entered, followed by a fourth – this one much larger, with crude armor made of scavenged metal pieces.

  [Goblin Captain, Level 5]

  The notification appeared in my vision, confirming what I'd already guessed – this one was the leader, and far more dangerous than the others.

  The goblins spread out, searching the ground floor. It was only a matter of time before they checked upstairs. I needed a plan, quickly.

  My eyes darted around the loft, looking for options. The ceiling was partially collapsed, exposing rafters and the night sky beyond. An idea formed – desperate, but potentially workable.

  I quietly removed one of the strange water bottles from my gathered supplies and tossed it as far as I could through the gap in the roof. It sailed through the air and crashed somewhere in the ruins outside.

  The effect was immediate. The goblins below froze, then rushed toward the entrance, chittering excitedly. All except the captain, who hesitated, its misshapen head turning slowly toward the stairs.

  It knew. Somehow, it knew.

  I readied the nail club as the goblin captain began climbing the stairs, each wooden step groaning under its weight. If I was going to fight, better to face one than four. Still, this one looked formidable, its yellow eyes gleaming with cruel intelligence.

  It reached the top of the stairs, those eyes fixing on me in the darkness. A slow, terrible grin split its face, revealing rows of jagged teeth. It raised a wicked-looking axe, the blade catching the starlight.

  I lunged first, driving the nail club toward its chest. The captain parried with surprising speed, the axe knocking my weapon aside. It countered with a powerful swing that would have taken my head off if I hadn't ducked.

  The exchange had created noise. Below, the other goblins were returning, alerted to the fight.

  I needed to end this quickly. The captain swung again, and this time I didn't try to block. Instead, I sidestepped and swung the nail club with all my might, the nails catching the creature in the side. It howled in pain but didn't fall, launching a counterattack that I barely avoided.

  The creature was stronger than the others, its movements more controlled. A direct confrontation wasn't going to work. I needed to be smarter.

  I feinted to the left, then drove forward suddenly, ramming my shoulder into the goblin's chest. It wasn't expecting the move, stumbling backward toward the top of the stairs. Before it could recover, I swung the club again, connecting solidly with its knee.

  The captain toppled backward, tumbling down the stairs in a clatter of metal and broken wood.

  The other goblins shrieked as their leader crashed into them. For a moment, there was confusion – the perfect opportunity. I grabbed my supplies and sprinted to the gap in the roof, clambering onto the exposed rafters.

  The wood creaked alarmingly beneath my weight, but held. I crawled forward, out through the gap and onto what remained of the roof. Behind me, I could hear the goblins recovering, their angry chittering growing louder as they began to climb the stairs.

  I scrambled across the slanted roof to the intact section, putting as much distance as possible between myself and the gap. Finding a relatively flat area near a chimney stack, I pressed myself down, trying to become invisible against the roofing material.

  The goblins reached the loft, their frustrated shrieks telling me they'd lost my trail. I lay perfectly still, barely breathing, as they searched. Minutes stretched into what felt like hours. Eventually, the sounds began to recede as they gave up and moved on.

  What struck me as most bizarre was their reaction to their fallen captain. After a brief moment of confusion, they'd simply continued the hunt, showing no signs of grief or even concern. They'd stepped over their leader's dissolving body without a second glance. No anger, no mourning, not even acknowledgment. Just cold, pragmatic continuation of their task.

  What kind of creatures were these? What kind of world had I found myself in?

  I waited longer, just to be safe, before finally allowing myself to relax slightly. I was alone again, at least for now.

  The adrenaline drained away, leaving me shaking and exhausted. The night's events crashed over me – the transformation of the world, the fights, the desperate escape. I'd killed three times now. Three living creatures, however monstrous, dead by my hand.

  I'd never been violent. Had never wanted to be. Yet here I was, becoming something I didn't recognize out of sheer necessity.

  A bitter laugh escaped me. I'd spent the past year sleepwalking through life, numb and disconnected after losing Mormor. Now, in this nightmare world, I was more awake, more present than I'd been since her death. Fighting for survival had a way of forcing you into the moment.

  I settled back against the chimney, using it as both shelter and support. From this position, I could see much of the ruined landscape spread out around me. It was beautiful in a terrible way – the strange aurora dancing above unfamiliar constellations, casting multicolored light over the broken remains of what might once have been my world.

  Was this still Earth? Parts of it seemed familiar – street layouts, building styles, fragments of signs in what appeared to be corrupt versions of Scandinavian languages. Yet it was all wrong somehow, compressed and rearranged, as if the geography itself had been shuffled and squashed together.

  I opened my status window again, confirming what I already knew:

  [Experience: 495/500] [Health: 47/100] [Basic Blunt Weapons (Level 2): Your knowledge of blunt weapons is developing. +10% to accuracy and damage with blunt weapons.]

  Just 5 experience points short of reaching level 3. I wondered what that would mean, what would change. Every level seemed to make me more effective at violence. Was that my future now? Becoming a better and better killer just to survive?

  I opened my inventory and examined what I'd scavenged:

  [Goblin Tooth: Trophy from your first kill. Quality: Poor] [Crude Knife: A poorly made but functional blade. Damage: 5-8] [Nail Club: A brutal bludgeoning weapon. Damage: 7-12] [Rebar: An improvised metal weapon. Damage: 4-7] [Leather Scraps: Could be used for basic crafting or repairs. Quality: Poor] [Unknown Food Package (6): Sealed preserved food. Effects unknown.] [Water Container (4): Contains clean drinking water.]

  Enough to survive for a few days, at least. I selected one of the water containers, and it materialized in my hand. The design was strange – hexagonal rather than cylindrical – but it opened easily enough. The water inside tasted normal, if slightly metallic. I drank half, then returned it to my inventory.

  I was tempted to try the food, but decided against it. Better to wait until I was truly hungry, in case it had unexpected effects.

  For now, I needed rest. My eyes felt like they were lined with sand, and my muscles ached from exertion and injury. I arranged my meager supplies around me, keeping the nail club close at hand. Despite its weight, the significantly higher damage made it worth the extra effort to wield. I was adapting, making calculated decisions rather than emotional ones. Survival demanded nothing less.

  As exhaustion pulled me toward sleep, my thoughts turned to Marcus and Sofia. Were they experiencing the same things? Fighting for their lives against monsters from nightmares? Or had they been luckier somehow, finding safety or other survivors?

  I had to believe they were alive. Had to believe I would find them. The alternative was too unbearable to consider.

  "I'm coming," I whispered to the alien stars. "Just stay alive until I find you."

  Sleep claimed me then, dragging me down into dreams filled with yellow eyes and blue status windows, with Marcus's steady presence and Sofia's bright laughter, with home and monsters and the strange new reality I'd been thrust into.

  Tomorrow would bring new challenges. But for tonight, at least, I had survived.