This is ridiculous.

He’d been walking for four hours, four goddamn hours! It had gone from a scenic forest hike to an exercise in his patience. This right here is why the idea of being inside a medieval fantasy world was better than actually being in one. You don’t ever think about how much more annoying life would be without the little quality of life inventions of modern times. Y’know, things like cars, or gps, or oh god... plumbing.

“I swear to god Erwin.” Donavan grumbled to no one. “If you didn’t write up some type of magic toilets for this world then I really will destroy the place.”

The thought would’ve been almost amusing if it weren’t a legitimate concern. No force on this world, or the next was gonna make him shit in a bucket.

If he was lucky, this new body of his wouldn’t need to do such mundane things in the first place. So far it seemed to have a plethora of improvements over his old one.

As his bare feet crunched against pointy sticks and jagged pebbles embedded in the lightly frosted mud banks along the river, he was thankful for the fact that, at the very least, his new body was durable enough for him to make this journey unbothered by his lack of protection from the elements.

“That's the least Erwin could do” he grumbled.

A breeze flitted through, rustling the needle-coated branches and sending clumps of snow sailing down to the foliage from the treetops. With it came a familiar scent... smoke, he realized. Looking around for the source, he found his view completely obstructed by the sentinel-like trees.

Wait a minute, wasn’t he still suppose have some left over super-strength? If he was in a body with superhuman abilities, it’d be a shame not to take advantage of it. Plus it would be good to get an idea of what exactly he was now capable of.

He’d just try something simple… not for fun of course, purley for practical reasons… yes, purley practical.

He dropped into a squat, driving his feet into the dirt, stomach lurching in anticipation.

3...2...1

Wind roared past him as he rocketed skywards. His jump rendering the once domineering pines as nothing more than diminutive miniatures. The expansive forest shrunk below him, now sprawling out as a carpet of verdant green, speckled with the remnants of winter snow.

A wide grin asserted itself on Donovan's face as he flew ever higher. One hundred feet, two hundred feet, somewhere after three hundred feet he began to reach his crest.

In the distance he saw a circular clearing in the forest situated further down the snaking river. From here he could only vaguely make out the cluster of cabin-like buildings huddled together surrounded by a big wooden wall. What was plain to see was the billowing pillars of smoke rising up from one section of the solitary village.

Small specks were running around the outsides of the walls, some specks were chasing others, some were fleeing. Before he could make out anymore, he came to the end of his hangtime and his plummet back to earth began.

It was then that Donavan realized he hadn’t at all thought out the re-entry portion of his little experiment.

He screamed. Then he screamed some more, this time with a side of useless flailing. A moment later, he did his best Icarus impression, and belly-flopped straight into the river rapids.

Note to self. Just because you have super-strength doesn’t mean you know how to use it.

The river wasn’t especially deep, but the current was strong enough to make getting up and reorienting himself a chore, and eventually he managed to thrash his way back to dry ground.

Inspecting himself, he hadn’t seemed to acquire any injuries from the fall, it hadn’t even hurt, and miraculously, he hadn’t lost his waistcloth in the stream either, though it was now soaking wet. In fact, he still wasn't the least bit chilly. All in all, he chalked it up to a good first test run to start learning the limits to this new body of his.

What he had seen was another matter entirely. That village must've been were Erwin had pointed him to, and it had looked like it was under attack. Judging from how Erwin had explained that he had limited influence on events in the story after he’d set them in motion, Donavan doubted he could rely on plot armor to keep the main characters alive. If they didn’t make it, it would be a pretty big problem for him. He needed to get there and make sure they lived long enough to see a second chapter.

Maybe I could leap from tree to tree like in that one anime? Donavan scolded himself for the thought just as soon as he’d had it. He’d been forced into this world against his will, the last thing he was gonna do was let Erwin think he was having fun.

But maybe just a… No. Donavan shook his head, and set off in a very practical and boring sprint towards the smoke.

...

“Form up!” Captain Caspiera yelled.

Her men were scattered across the stump ridden clearing in wild pockets like a bunch of amateurs. But that's what you get when soldiers get paid to do nothing but sit around all day. She couldn’t completely blame them. Everyone knew goblins were nocturnal, the fact they had attacked mid-day was unheard of. Now all hells had broken loose and the southern wall of the village palisade was burning, and her men were all too busy defending the northern walls watergate.

“Form up!” She yelled again after a slash of her broadsword parted a goblins head from its shoulders. Her shield arm rattled as a rock from some hidden goblin’s sling dented her kite shield.

They must've had a regiment of ranged attackers hidden somewhere in the tree line taking pot-shots at her and her men, running harassment for their main skirmishers. Unlike the ignorant masses, she knew that goblins weren’t stupid creatures. While they’re technology was rudimentary, you didn’t learn to survive in monster infested forests without learning to be a bit tactical.

A few dozen yards away, one of her men ran after a goblin retreating into the clearings treeline. The idiot, the moment he got to far from their main force, a trio of warg mounted goblins darted out from the shadows. He turned to run back to the line. Too late, they descended on him. Their large, spine covered, hairless mounts pounced and ripped the man limb from limb.

“If any of you shit-for-brains bastards want to make it back to the brothel tonight, then you will form the fuck up!”

Finally it seemed her words had pierced the deafening violence of the battlefield. The men closest to her backed up forming a turtle like shell with their shields, the men who still had spears jabbed them out at the nearest goblins, keeping them at bay.

The green, grey, and pale yellow skinned beasts started to back away. Another misconception about goblins- they weren't short and stubby like people thought. They were lean and averaged around four and a half feet tall, some of them even reaching five feet. Thing is, they knew it was difficult to fight a shorter quicker opponent, so they almost always stayed down in a loaded crouch, keeping their center of mass low. That was probably why people thought of them as so much shorter than they actually were.

What they definitely weren’t, were brave creatures. Goblins only ever attacked using quick and dirty guerilla tactics. Up against a real platoon, outfitted in armor and making use of formations, they didn’t stand a chance. They knew it, she knew it. Which was why they were now slowly backing away from her soldiers.

After the force of four dozen or so goblins put a space of twenty feet between them and her men, they stopped, snarling viciously at them. A few of them exchanged words in their strange chittering language.

“What are they doing?” one soldier asked eyes glancing nervously among their ranks.

“Shut up.” Captain Caspiera barked.

The standoff between the two groups lasted a few pregnant moments longer, and Caspiera saw what they had been waiting for. The trio of warg-mounted goblins from earlier had retreated back into the treels to meet up with an older goblin wearing some kind of feathered headdress. After a moment, the warg-riders charged her formation, the head of the trio seemed to be carrying something at its side.

“What's that?” the soldier said again, voice trembling.

“I said shut the hells up!”

The warg riders flew across the field towards their formation. Caspiera squinted, trying hard to peer at whatever it was they were transporting.

But that's not possible. She thought a moment before they closed in on her men.

“Take cover!” she yelled, as the charging goblin flung a circular pouch with a burning wick sticking out the side directly into the ranks of her men.

A thunderous fwoom sounded as her world was consumed in smoke and fire. A concussive force ripped her off her feet and sent her rag-dolling to the ground. Her ears pounded with a deafening ring as she gasped, trying to reclaim the breath that had been jerked from her lungs.

She blinked rapidly to stamp down the flash burned into her retinas. Around her, dirt and viscera rained down in equal measure. Pain like nothing she had ever felt saturated her left arm, ripping the shield and gauntlet off revealed a wealth of blistered and blackened skin. Trying to stand resulted only in her immediately crumpling back down. Her leg was broken as well, the bone jutting out from the calf.

This was it, she was done for. She no longer had a way to defend herself, nor did she have the mobility to run. All she could do now was hope any of her men had survived the explosion, and were fit enough to drag her away.

None had.

Her world was nothing but swirling dust, scorched earth, and smoke-choked sky. This shouldn't have been possible. Goblins fought with slings and pointy rocks tied to sticks. They weren’t supposed to have things like firebombs.

The forms of several goblins were falling back into the shadowed treeline, many of them carried sacks and boxes on their backs.

Was that all this was really about, a supply raid? It wasn’t an unheard of occurence, but still, attacking an entire village with a defensive palisade in place, along with full garrison of soldiers? This attack should’ve been more costly to them then it was worth. That’s when she saw it.

Her eyes widened in disbelief. Slung over the backs of a few of the wargs, were people from the village, all of them tied up and squirming impotently against their bindings

But that wasn’t right... goblins didn’t take prisoners, they had no reason to. But then again, goblins also didn’t have firebombs.

“What in Jeiya’s name is going on.” she croaked, triggering a fit of retching coughs.

Light footsteps padded atop the earth nearby. Facing their source, she saw a goblin of rough and callus coated yellow skin slinking towards her, jagged stone knife in hand, hate smoldering in its piss yellow and black flecked eyes.

So this was it. Her mother had been right, joining up with the militia was going to end in her being stabbed through by some savage goblin in nothing but a loincloth.

A small part of her wondered why goblins seemed to hate them so. As a child she’d been taught that monsters were just born evil, that was all there was to it. But looking into the eyes of this creature, she knew that rage like that had to be inspired by something. It didn’t really matter now, she wasn’t going to live long enough to ever find the answer.

The goblin towered over her prone form, raising its dagger in the air at just the right angle to blot out the sun. It said something before bringing the dagger down, some short combination of rasps and retches. She wouldn’t even get to know what it was the thing said before it killed her.

A sound like a whip crack echoed around her and her vision immediately went red as blood splattered across her face. Had she been stabbed? No, it wasn’t her blood. She desperately rubbed at her eyes trying to restore her sight.

The goblin standing over her still had its knife raised above its head, or at least where its head had been. It was just... gone; reduced to nothing but a faint red mist hanging in the air. It was as if everything from the neck up had just evaporated. It happened so fast, the goblin was still standing for a moment before limply falling backwards to the ground.

“What in Jeiya’s fucking name is happening!”

A new set of footsteps approached. She turned, expecting to see another goblin. Instead it was a man who now approached her. He wore nothing but a dripping wet cloth wrapped around his waist that hung down a little past his knees.

“Well I guess that works.” The stranger said, as he casually tossed a pebble up and down in his right hand.