Chapter 28: Ambush in the Grasslands

Chapter 28: Chapter 28: Ambush in the Grasslands

The morning mist still clung low to the emerald stalks as Eric stepped through the gate into the Tyra Grasslands.

"Keep your eyes peeled, Coal. Standard protocol," Eric muttered, rolling his shoulders and tightening the leather strap of his round buckler.

Over the past ten days, their hunting process had become a finely tuned rhythm: enter the rift, send Coal high into the upper thermals for aerial reconnaissance, isolate an uninjured demonic beast, execute a clean ambush, and harvest the core.

Following Coal’s aerial signal, Eric had just finished off a Level 5 Fleshcrawler in a shallow depression, slipping the freshly extracted E-rank core into his coat pocket. He leaned back against a sunbaked boulder to catch his breath when a coarse, mocking voice drifted through the fog.

"Well, look at that... Did you take down an E-rank mid stage Fleshcrawler all by yourself, kid?"

"Heh, look at him. Little brat’s got some serious nerve wandering out here alone."

The tall brush parted, and three men stepped into the clearing. They wore scuffed, mismatched sets of cracked leather and rusted iron mail, their faces weathered and marked with unkempt stubble. Their eyes lingered hungrily on the fresh carcass at Eric’s feet, the clean steel at his hip, and the bulge in his pocket.

Eric’s survival instincts flared. He backed away instantly, drawing his iron shortsword and raising his round buckler to chest height.

"Who are you? What do you want?"

"Woah, easy there, kid!" The man in the center raised both hands in mock surrender, a sleazy grin stretching across his chapped lips. "Little guy got fired up all of a sudden. Relax, brat. We’re just fellow explorers. We don’t mean any harm."

"Yeah, kid," the wiry man on the left chuckled, casually resting a calloused palm on the pommel of a notched scimitar. "We just lost our bearings in the morning fog. Thought we’d ask a friendly tamer for directions back to the gate."

Behind the three men, the grass rustled as their contracted beasts emerged into the open: a squat, charcoal-scaled Ashen Gecko, a scruffy Fernmane Wolf with matted green fur, and a burly, scarred Ashfang Hound with soot-stained jaws.

*DING.*

A jagged crimson window snapped violently across Eric’s field of vision:

│ [DYNAMIC QUEST ENGINE TRIGGERED]

│

│ Hostility Detected!

│ Sudden Quest: Eliminate the Threat

│ Objective: Slay the hostile entities (0/3).

│

│ Rewards: [Basic Gacha Ticket x3]

│ Failure Penalty: Death at the hands of enemies.

Eric’s eyes narrowed, a cold chill running down his spine.

*Rookie killers.*

He had read warning threads on the municipal forums about low-tier scavengers who preyed exclusively on solitary new awakeners inside public Level-1 rifts—slaughtering rookies for their gear, beast cores, and association badges before dumping the corpses to be devoured by demonic beasts.

Without shifting his footing, Eric discreetly focused his intent through his enhanced talent.

*Appraisal.*

│ Race: Human

│ Talent: Rank E

│ Stage: Mortal

│ Level: 8

│ Race: Human

│ Talent: Rank F

│ Stage: Mortal

│ Level: 4

│ Race: Human

│ Talent: Rank E

│ Stage: Mortal

│ Level: 7

He shifted his focus to the three beasts pacing restlessly behind them:

│ Race: Ashen Gecko

│ Rank: E | Stage: Mortal | Level: 3

│ Race: Fernmane Wolf

│ Rank: E | Stage: Mortal | Level: 2

│ Race: Ashfang Hound

│ Rank: E | Stage: Mortal | Level: 6

All three contracted beasts were visibly malnourished, their ribs showing through patchy coats and their mana circulation sluggish—the clear result of neglectful, low-tier tamers feeding them table scraps and cheap meat rather than proper elemental nutrients.

Individually, the beasts were pathetic compared to Coal’s refined Level 6 baseline. But tactical numbers mattered. It was a three-versus-one engagement—six hostile targets against Eric and a single crow.

*The Leader is Level 8, the thug is Level 7, and their Hound is Level 6,* Eric calculated, feeling the initial spike of panic harden into ice-cold focus. *They out-level my Mortal Level 4 body on paper. But their fundamentals are rotten, their beasts are starved, and they don’t know Coal is lurking above.*

"Look, kid," the leader stepped forward, his eyes dropping the friendly facade as his fingers tightened around a broad-headed spear. "Make this easy on yourself. Hand over your storage ring, your cores, and that shiny new smartphone. Maybe we let you walk back to the portal in your underwear."

"And if I refuse?" Eric asked, his voice dead flat.

"Then we feed what’s left of you to the Fleshcrawlers," the the level 7 thug sneered, unhooking a heavy iron mace from his belt. "Nobody checks the grass for dead rookies."

*No negotiation. No running.* 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚

High above in the cloud cover, Coal hovered in a wide, silent circle. His dark, pitch-black eyes locked onto the three scavengers below, smoky Shadow mana quietly coiling around his razor-sharp ivory talons.

Eric lowered his center of gravity, shifting his shortsword into a forward guard.

*Coal, target the scout and the wolf first. Drop on them from their blind spot.*

*Caw,* came the cold mental confirmation across the soul tether.

Eric’s gaze turned razor-sharp as he stared down the three scavengers.

*It’s do-or-die. Let’s take all three.*