The wait was agonizing, the running footsteps growing louder, accompanied by the sharp sounds of snapping twigs and rustling leaves. Whatever was running his way made no attempt to hide it, it was in a full-on sprint toward William. With what felt like minutes stretching into eternity, William gripped his branch tightly, waiting to swing it with all his strength at whatever was charging at him, hoping to knock it out in one blow.

  Suddenly, a creature burst from the undergrowth, screeching as it charged. It was small, barely reaching his waist, with mottled green skin and large, pointed ears that twitched nervously. Its beady black eyes, filled with malice, were fixed on William. It wore a tattered leather jerkin, more patches than garment, and wielded a crude club, more like a thick stick really, with surprising ferocity. A wave of recognition washed over William, despite the surge of adrenaline flooding his system. Though this was the first time he had ever seen such a creature in the flesh, he knew what it was.

  In the many hours spent devouring fantasy novels during his youth, he had read countless descriptions of creatures like this. Small, malevolent, and often found in forests, they were almost always referred to as goblins. This creature fit the description perfectly, green skin, pointed ears, crude weaponry, and undeniably hostile demeanour. It even resembled the illustrations he'd seen in some of the more lavishly produced editions. He had always found a certain escapist pleasure in those stories, a way to momentarily leave behind the rigid logic of his data-driven world. Now, faced with a real-life goblin, the reality was far less appealing.

  The goblin lunged, swinging its club wildly. Its movements were jerky but surprisingly quick. William reacted on instinct, fuelled by adrenaline and his enhanced physicality. He sidestepped the attack, the club whistling past his ear in a near miss that sent another wave of fear through him. He swung his branch with all his might, connecting with the goblin's arm with a solid thwack.

  The creature yelped, a high-pitched, almost comical sound, its grip on the club loosening. But it wasn’t enough to knock the goblin out. Far from it, the goblin was relentless, driven by a primal aggression that seemed out of proportion to its size. As if it hadn’t even felt the hit, it charged at him again, faster this time, its beady eyes narrowed in fury.

  William parried another blow, the force of the impact jarring his arm and sending vibrations up to his shoulder. He was bigger, yes, but the goblin was agile, a creature perfectly adapted to this environment and surprisingly strong for its size. He danced back, trying to keep the creature at bay, using his longer reach to his advantage, circling, looking for an opening.

  William's analytical mind kicked in, assessing the goblin's movements. It lunges with its right foot forward, using its body weight to build momentum. Each attack comes at a downward angle, aimed at my head or upper body. If I can predict the angle, I might be able to time my defence better. Then look for an opportunity to attack.

  He noticed a pattern: the goblin seemed to overcommit with its strikes, putting itself off balance after each swing. If I wait for it to overreach, I can counterattack when its guard is down. But how many more hits can I take?

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  William knew he had to anticipate the creature's next move. The goblin lunged again, and William calculated quickly, studying its position, the way it shifted its weight, the flare of its nostrils, a telltale sign of its aggression.

  “Let’s see,” he whispered, forcing his focus. “If it keeps attacking like this, it’ll tire eventually. The pattern suggests relentless aggression, but what about the predictability? Right, here it comes.”

  The goblin lunged once more, its movements sharper this time. William evaded, swinging his branch toward the creature’s side. The hastily calculated attack landed, causing the goblin to stumble.

  William knew that the longer this fight dragged on, the more of a disadvantage he would be in. The goblin lunged at William again, its beady eyes burning with ferocity despite the slight tremor in its limbs. Wildly swinging its club, it barely paused to catch its breath, a primal snarl etched across its mottled green face. Sweat glistened on its brow, yet every frantic attack exuded a fierce determination, as if it thrived on the chaos of the battle, intent on wearing William down with sheer, unyielding fury. William, on the other hand, while appearing to have the upper hand, was fast running out of stamina and already panting heavily.

  He swung the branch toward the goblin again, hoping to strike a decisive blow. He managed to land another hit, this time on the goblin's shoulder. The creature stumbled but didn't fall, its momentum briefly checked. Any animal that sustained a few hits would normally think twice about immediately attacking again, it would likely consider fleeing with its tail between its legs. But the goblin was anything but normal. After steadying itself, it snarled, its eyes burning with fury, a low growl rumbling in its chest as it prepared to jump into the fray again despite its wounds.

  Then, in a flash of movement, the goblin darted forward, lowering its body this time. It feinted left before lunging right. William was caught off guard, reacting a split second too late. He felt a sharp, searing pain in his left leg as the creature, instead of using its club, used its teeth and bit down hard. The bite was strong enough to draw blood, warm oozing liquid trickled down his leg.

  He cried out, more in surprise than agony. It felt like being bitten by a small, rabid dog. He stumbled backward, losing his balance and falling heavily to the ground, the breath knocked out of him. The goblin, still latched onto his leg, began to thrash its head, trying to tear into his flesh like a wild animal.

  Panic surged through him, raw and primal. He had to get it off. He raised his branch to strike but hesitated, momentarily stunned by the ferocity of the attack and the warm blood soaking through his trousers, staining the forest floor a dark, crimson red. This momentary pause, a flicker of indecision in the face of brutal reality, gave the goblin the upper hand. With a snarl, it released his leg and launched itself upward, aiming for William's exposed throat, its crude club raised for a final, decisive blow. Its eyes gleamed with what could only be interpreted as triumph as it prepared to deliver the killing strike.

  Knowing that the next attack from the goblin could very well be the end, William struggled with all his might, managing to push the goblin from an awkward angle, causing it to roll over and away from him. However, it was but a moment’s reprieve, as the goblin quickly got back up and raised its club, preparing for its next attack. William knew things looked grim, and that his next move might be his last, but he didn't give up, he wouldn't give up. He needed to think quickly to give himself the best chance to survive in this cruel new world.

  “Okay, think, William. Just like analysing a bad data set,” he whispered to himself, shifting the branch for another swing. “What’s the pattern here? This goblin has tenacity. If only I had a regression model for how stubborn small creatures could be.”

  Determined to survive, William squared his shoulders, prepared to face whatever this strange world threw at him next.