Jack sunk to his knees, stricken with a realization he had done his best to push away, even when odd flashes of insight had made even his basic martial training with his father so much more than it should have been, his mind flooded with a hundred hours' worth of lessons in the tiniest fraction of that time. Yet what had bothered him then seemed almost undeniable now.

“Jack?”

But Jack payed no mind to his father who was now racing to his side, overwhelmed by a horrid truth he should have understood from the moment he had woken up in this life that wasn’t quite his own, hours ago.

He gazed down at his tightly clenched fists, felt the pain of stones digging into his knees.

He hadn’t just jumped through a dimensional gate, waking up into a preprogrammed life.

This life was no simple artificial projection.

Jack Evergreen wasn’t background data poured into his subconscious.

The boy with his innocent childhood full of daily lessons and chores, play, imaginary adventures with his brothers, and dreams of glory when not working by his father’s side, was very much a real, sentient being.

He was that boy.

It was his self-awarness of being Jack Cypher, one of the last survivors of a doomed world, haunted by memories of his dying family and the girl he had loved, that was the projection.

A lifetime’s worth of memories planted into the mind of a young man who woke up far more than he had been, just the day before.

“Son, are you okay?”

And the hard-muscled farmer and former mercenary now gazing down at him with such concern really was his father, who had loved and cared for him all his days, just as had the brilliant scientist who had first sensed their planet’s doom just decades… or perhaps countless centuries ago.

And the way he held the bow in his hand, so knowingly, as if it were just an extension of himself, filled him with the dreadful certainty that this wasn’t the first life he had lived in this realm either.

For all he knew, he had woken up with a jolt on his 18th birthday, certain that he had just survived a jump between worlds, countless times before.

The very thought filled him with such dread that he lurched back to his feet, taking rapid breaths, as if terrified this life would spring out of control, that he was drowning in some dark awful sea he couldn’t even imagine the scope and breadth of, a part of him suddenly wondering if humans were mortal for a reason, and his soul was being stretched far too thin.

“Son, talk to me!”

His father’s concerned words snapped him out of his awful reverie.

He opened his eyes, took a deep ragged breath, and forced a smile to his face.

He was young, healthy, with his whole damn life ahead of him. Who cared if he had done this before?

In that moment he convinced himself it was just like playing his favorite computer games. How many times had he played SkyDragon? Savoring each time he started a new character, with a delicious sense of anticipation for what was to come? Knowing the best class to play, how to accomplish the choice quests, defeat the hardest beasts, such that he seemed like a true prodigy to his AI counterparts even if he had the advantage of playing it a dozen times before?

This was real life. Yes. Far better than any game! He had always dreamed of being one with his adventures. Now he really could be the hero of his dreams.

The best solution, the only solution, was to view it just as he had over countless late nights zoned into his black cat sensory helm, knowing he was safely lying in bed even as he was embracing countless imaginary adventures in worlds filled with wonder and peril.

“I’m fine dad, sorry, I just got dizzy for a second. Maybe I just need some water? Give me just a second.”

He closed his eyes, practicing his old meditation exercises in reverse. This time he visualized himself on his memory-foam bed, microfiber sheets assuring the most luxurious night’s sleep imaginable, and assuring he could play all night and not wake up with a sore back.

He visualized himself lying in that very bed, months before the horrible news of his world’s inevitable doom percolated the upper ranks of the elite, his father among them, before he had even fallen for a certain elfin eared girl, back when life was safe, comfortable, and looking for exciting online thrills was the height of excitement.

There. He could visualize it.

Visualize putting on his helmet.

Imagining the AI downloading basic combat skills and memories, as if top of the line military cybernetic implant tapes had been synergized with a fantasy training program, and he had the advantage of a crackerjack trainer more than willing to show him the ropes.

He smiled at the fantasy, visualizing permission from his original father to play as long as he liked. His bed would forever be warm and comfortable, and school would always and forever be a day away.

He opened his eyes and took a deep breath, delighting once more in the sharp piney scent of the woods nearby, the odor of wildflowers, hay, and manure delightful backdrops to the farm serving as his starter zone, feeling a curious mixture of relief an exhilaration, gazing at the world around him with the eyes of a gamer.

And in that moment, he knew exactly what he had to do.

If his father’s insinuations were accurate, he would be forced to leave Hidden Valley on the morrow.

He thought back to the notification he had gotten with his martial training.

Warrior classes were now open to him, and he’d get a 20% bonus to all martial skills.

Which made him wonder what other class types could he open, correlating with additional bonuses, before he was forced to leave?

He felt a sudden surge of anxiety, quickly suppressed.

He had to make the absolute most of this opportunity while he could.

He might never get a second chance to do so. Not in this lifetime.

He looked up into his father’s concerned daze, taking the cup of small beer his father handed him, enjoying the tang of the weak alcoholic beverage, almost porridge-like. It was a staple of their community, the alcohol enough to kill any taint that might leak into the water, but not so great that one couldn’t focus on the task at hand.

“Thanks dad,” he said, drinking his fill. “I needed that.”

His father flashed a relieved smile. “I was a bit worried. How are you feeling?”

“Much better,” he assured. “Sorry I got a bit dizzy. I was just enjoying the archery practice so much that I lost track of my own needs. Amazing how quickly it came to me while I was in the zone. I didn’t want to lose the moment.”

His father nodded. “The wise trainer knows not to interfere with a student’s natural learning, especially when he is clearly having a breakthrough.” His gaze turned reflective. “Perhaps we’ve had enough training for one day?”

Jack quickly shook his head. “No! I mean… please, dad. If this is my last day on the farm, I really want to learn all that I can."

His father sat back on the grass, resting his head against the trunk of the tree shading them. “If it were any of your brothers talking to me, I’d laugh off their concerns and remind them they’re only real duty is to help guard our goods on the caravan and make sure we’re dealt with fairly, and that the merchant wasn’t taking us for a ride when you get to the trade town you'll be apprenticing for a time in, for at least a season or two. There will be a village elder or two coming along as well, of course. But in your case...” his father sighed. “It fills me with regret to say it, but even I can feel destiny pulling you away.”

Jack paled at those words. Almost positive his father had implied something quite different earlier, and somehow knowing that it didn't matter. hat the choices he was making at this very moment were at risk of pulling him free from the only home he had ever known, perhaps for all time.

His father winked, taking a sip of the small beer as well. “So I agree, son, best we teach you all that we can. Do you recall the last time we went hunting?”

And in a flash he did. He recalled the sense of exhilaration he’d get with their early morning hunts, realizing that now was the perfect time, and with a quiet nod he and his father were on their way and it was just the same as when they’d hunt every year after their harvests, when the farm was resting and game was fat with the season’s bounty, his father’s pointed looks and hand gestures coming to him in a flash. And before he knew it, he was slinking through the trees, staying in the shadows, and stepping with the pads of his feet so gracefully that not a leaf rustled.

Jack paid close attention when his father showed him exactly which wild mushrooms and tubers were edible and which would make him sick, showing him how to find the driest leaves for bedding or, in a pinch and especially if cold weather abounds, how to make a snug nest with leaves or pine needles under a Traveler’s Pine or a deadfall, having Jack construct an impromptu shelter his father deemed barely servicable while his father stepped away, only to return with a rabbit a short while later.

Cooking is now Novice Rank 1

Jack grinned, learning so much as he watched his father properly dress a rabbit he had shot while his son had worked, the pair devouring the well-cooked rabbit with the fire Jack himself prepared with flint and steel and the dry kindling he had carefully gathered, struck once more by countless memories coming over him with each of his father's lessons, refreshers of what he had shown Jack countless times before when they had hunted together, so much pushed out of mind with his big day approaching. Yet here and now, devoting himself entirely to his father's lessons, he found himself absorbing the refresher like a hungry sponge.

And when his father showed him the faint traces of game spore after they had put out their fire and left their camp, Jack instantly understood how a few broken twigs and hoof marks barely discernible on the forest floor were pointing to deer just ahead, father and son carefully circling around so they would approach downwind, just as they had so many times before.

Survival is now Novice Rank 2

Stealth is now Novice Rank 2

Tracking is now Novice Rank 2

Only now Jack wasn’t just assisting his father peripherally with a light self-bow by his side. Now he too was wielding a longbow, with an arrow knocked and partially drawn, considered a man by the laws of this province and thus had every right to carry war bows for hunting and self-defense both.

And the exhileration he felt when he spotted the antlered buck drinking from a nearby stream, golden shafts of sunlight dappling its fur, brought this heartbeat in time to sharp, crystalline focus, Jack never having felt so alive as he did at that moment.

Yet when those majestic honeybrown eyes caught his own, Jack froze, struck by something profound, unable to release.

“Son.” So soft, it was hardly a whisper.

Then Jack saw something that made his blood run cold.

Sensed as much as saw.

A sickly green presence, scurrying through the darkness, glaring at Jack and his father both with beady eyes, a heartbeat from hurtling its spear and skewering them with the advantage of surprise and height.

Jack met the creatures gaze and released his shaft.

You have critically struck your foe!

Your foe has perished! Experience earned!

With your life on the line, you’re finally paying attention! Perception permanently increased by 1 point.

His father’s eyes widened when an awful screech echoed through the air, a horribly misshapen humanoid crashing to the ground from the treetops. It was about 4 feet tall, dressed in poorly sewn furs, its spear windmilling down to plunge, quivering, into the loamy forest floor point first, just a few feet from where they were.

Jack pulled it free with some effort, finding it a well-balanced throwing spear, closer to a javelin in length and weight, with a flint-tipped head. He was about to run his finger across it when his father grabbed his hand.

“Don’t. Did you forget my words so soon? Obsidian blades shatter easily against metal or stone, but they are wicked sharp. Those spears are more than capable of slicing through cuir bouilli armor, especially when hurled down from the tree tops.”

Jack nodded. “And from the treetops, the easiest targets are our naked heads.”

His father glared down at the corpse, but only after his eagle eyes made sure the nearby trees were clear of threats.

“This is bad, son. No goblin scout should have been able to penetrate our valley’s wards. It must have happened strictly by chance, only during those moments when we opened ourselves to the seasonal trade caravan!”

His father’s gaze met his own. “Scouts always move in squads, and once they lock on a location, warding magics will do nothing to prevent an invasion. If we want to make absolutely sure our village is safe, we have to track down and eliminate the remaining scouts immediately!”

Hidden Quest: Green Shadows I Offered.

You and your father have stumbled across a quartet of goblin scouts who have discovered your well-hidden town. If they are not put down immediately, your entire community will be put in dire peril! Will you assist your father in purging the goblin threat from these lands?

You have chosen Yes! Quest accepted!

Jack gave a quick nod. “You know I'll do my part.”

“Good!” The pair of them immediately raced for the tree the goblin had been hiding in, Jack’s father glaring at the branches. “There can be no doubt. That bastard was looking to ambush us.”

Jack felt a cold chill with those words.

“If you hadn’t spotted that bugger and shot true…” He clapped Jack’s shoulder. “Well done, son. Now keep an eye to the trees while I find our prey.”

His eyes widened as he heard his father whisper a few strange syllables over the corpse, and Jack imagined he could feel the release of strange energies he could almost taste on the air. An earthy piney scent. Nature Magic, Jack thought.

The former mercenary flashed a feral grin when he suddenly turned due west, Jack keeping just a few steps behind, eyes firmly on the trees.

His heart raced with an odd mix of excitement, only now realizing how close he had come to peril, suddenly recalling several documentaries showcasing just how deadly obsidian blades were, sharper even than surgical steel. It was brittle, but against any armor made of linen or rawhide, it would slice right through. At least when tipping a spear hurled from a height of 30 feet.

“Dad!”

A dappled flash of shadow and light.

Jack didn’t think to analyze, old instincts somehow taking hold as he shoved his father off the path they were following, just in time for a five foot long shaft of wood to tear through the air and slam into the ground, the air suddenly full of horrific screeches.

Jack’s eyes widened. His cheek was burning, water running down his cheek.

He lifted a hand to his flesh and took it away.

Entranced by the sight of his own blood.

Before being abruptly yanked upright by his father.

“Move!”

The man roared, and Jack did, having lost his arrow but keeping his bow, heartbeats before the thunks of further spears smacked into the ground.

For a second Jack just dashed in near panic.

Before his father wrenched him down so fast he thought his arm would break.

“Quiet!” His father had hissed. “We’ll wait for them here.”

Jack frowned. “But won’t they...”

“Their spears, Alex. They threw their spears in an effort to kill us. What are they armed with now?”

Jack’s eyes widened in sudden comprehension, though he winced at the pain in his cheek.

His father frowned. “No time. Focus on the threat. We survive this? You can show off your pretty scar to your girl.”

Jack flushed at that, a gorgeous blond-haired girl with ruby red lips and a teasing smile suddenly coming to mind, remembering a whispered promise he had all but forgotten when he had awoken that morning, two lives blending into one.

But he pushed all that out of mind as he notched his arrow and drew string to cheek, taking deep steady breaths. Watching, waiting. With clear line of sight to the trio of spears sticking up from the ground, the remnants of a failed ambush.

Faint chittering that came from no squirrel increased in pitch, and Jack almost thought he understood.

“You lost fresh meat.”

“No, you lost fresh meat!”

“You both fools. I’m telling master. Now get spears. We try again!”

And slowly the shadows revealed a pair of furtively moving goblin scouts crawling down from the trees like monkeys before scurrying forward to wiggle their spears out of the ground.

Perception check made!

You have critically hit your target!

Experience earned!

Only to lurch back in surprise as an arrow sprouted from the rightmost goblin’s chest, the leftmost one collapsing with a wide-eyed stare, a second arrow blasting through its skull.

Finesse permanently increased by one.

Jack feeling a visceral thrill as his arrow struck true, the air suddenly alive with a frustrated shriek as the fourth goblin, still in the trees, quickly retreated.

“After it!” His father snapped,

But Jack was already off, racing through the trees, refusing to slow down no matter the stitch in his side as his quadriceps blazed, lungs pumping like bellows.

Vitality permanently increased by one.

But he did not stop, even when the forest canopy was replaced with brilliant late morning sunlight, and Jack’s eyes widened as he caught sight of a massive river he had never known had existed just ahead, the unmistakable roar of a waterfall a short distance beyond.

The goblin howled with relief and picked up his pace,

as Jack slowed down.

He took a deep breath, sighted his target with arrow fully drawn back...

And released.

The goblin payed no mind, his powerful legs windmilling him forward far faster than Jack had anticipated.

Before jerking forward in a spray of crimson, the monster collapsing with a screech just feet from the water, struggling towards it with frantically clawing forelimbs and leaving a trail of blood behind, thanks to the arrow sprouting from its back.

Its hands reaching water at last, pushing forward with a desperate heave…

Before howling in despair as Jack clasped its ankle and yanked it back, dragging the surprisingly light creature many yards away from salvation, blood smeared in its desperate, scrabbling wake.

“No! Let Fang go. Let Fang go!”

Jacks eyes widened, but he refused to ease his grip, propelling himself backward almost at a run before abruptly leaping back, the visceral image of a savage goblin dressed in rusted iron links lashing out with a bloody blade superimposing itself on the blade of flint and bone his foe unsheathed with a hiss, lashing out with one final desperate heave before groaning and cradling its injured abdomen, a single loop of intestine bursting forth, knife slipping free of a trembling paw.

“Please let Fang go!”

Jack glared coldly at the foul little homicidal creature that had been so eager to spear his father and him, just minutes ago. A scout with the dark ability to open a bridge between Jack’s beautiful sacred home and enemies that could destroy everything he knew and loved. Every memory of laughter and joy, every smiling face he now so viscerally recalled, in a life and realm that might have been artificially generated, but that Jack was increasingly certain was every bit as real as his own.

His lips curled in a snarl as he drew back his bowstring. “Fang will talk, or Fang will suffer.”

The ugly creature widened its beady eyes. “You speak True Tongue!”

Jack sensed his father closing, drawing a bead on their target. He could only imagine what his father thought of him interrogating this monster in a tongue he had never heard until minutes ago.

Yet somehow knew perfectly.

“How did you enter this valley?” Jack said, careful not even to give it the name.

The creature blinked rapidly, noting the other human approaching.

“You will let me go?”

Jack thought fast, tasting the beady-eyed creature’s desperate calculation, and his fear as well.

Feeling a visceral rush as he embraced a role every bit as dark as the one he and his brothers had once play-acted, mimicking their father’s fireside tales of battle, treachery, and daring.

He darted forward before the gobling could do more than shriek, whispering dark guttural words as he slashed out with his knife, scoring a quick rune on the creature’s forehead before it could blink.

Quickness permanently increased by one.

“What did human do to Fang? What did human do?”

“I’ve marked you with a curse, intruder! You who dare invade sacred lands have broken sacred covenants. Your soul is now mine! Upon your death, I shall have claimance upon all your potency, all your hidden potential! And now, when you lie, I can sense your deceit, and my justice shall be swift and painful!

Deception check failed. Intimidation check successful.

The creature’s eyes bulged. “No! Impossible! You do not have this power. You cannot have this power! This land was promised to us. To us!”

Yet despite its protestations, it was clearly terrified.

“How did you enter this valley?”

The creature licked its lips, whimpering as Jack’s father approached. “We have friends in this valley. Friends who were promised gold and slaves for their aid! And free passage through our lands!” The creature glared. “Our friend promised you couldn’t see us. Our markings are proof!”

Jack’s heart started to race. “Show me these markings… slowly!”

The creature hissed, slowly lifting up his vest of ragged furs, revealing a pentagram with an eye in its center, drawn with some sort of white paste. Bonemeal, Jack thought, sensing an odd tingle of potency through the rune.

Jack frowned, blinking suddenly watery eyes. Perhaps the creature seemed a bit fuzzy around the outlines, but somehow it hadn’t prevented him from noticing the creature, its presence and killing intent having blazed so bright in his mind’s eye. But now with the marking so clearly revealed, he had only caught sight for an instant before it seemed to blur to a patch of white, and it was all he could do to keep his focus on his target.

His father groaned.

Jack felt a lurch in his chest, seeing his father slump to the ground, holding his head.

“Dad!”

Danger!

Snapping back to his target and releasing his arrow in a single motion, the suddenly blurry feature collapsing with a cry, Jack's arrow having struck center mass.

The creature groaned and curled up in a ball, both hands now on his wounds, snapping and yipping at the air with its doglike muzzle, howling for mercy.

Jack quickly notched and drew another arrow. “No more games, Fang, or I promise you, this is just the start of your pain. Now tell me who is working with you. How did you all get through? How many others are there?”

“Only us four. Wagon only had room for us four,” the creature sobbed. “Please. Mercy for fang? Show mercy?”

Then before Jack could say a word, the creature’s eyes rolled up in the back of its head, its back arching in a death spasm as its heels kicked the ground.

Seconds later it collapsed, utterly still, eyes vacant orbs looking beyond life’s shores.

Congratulations! You have successfully completed the Hidden Quest: Green Shadows I.

Experience earned!

Hidden Quest: Green Shadows II revealed. The Goblins did not act alone. Someone helped them sneak into Hidden Valley! Will you help discover the culprits and put and end to the threat imperiling your family’s village? Y/N

You have chosen Yes!