E.M. Dash Web Novels
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Chapter 026 A Death Measured in Heartbeats
🕑 Added 2025-07-25 19:01:00 +0000 UTCDay 3. Saturday 4:45pm.
Jack held his bow at mid-draw as his eyes widened at the guttural snarl he’d heard coming from the forest. He prepared for a battle. At that moment, he wanted to grip the dagger’s handle, but couldn’t. He looked to the tree stump, where seven of his arrows stuck out like feathered hedgehog spines. Shit, I only have five arrows.
A dark shape burst from the shadows at the edge of the clearing. It was a goblin, small in stature but filled with malice. Its skin was a mottled green, its eyes burned with a wild, feral light, and it carried a rusty shortsword in its right hand.
Jack’s heart pounded. Oh, crap. He’d already guessed what it was, but it still came as a shock. With no injuries to slow him down, his body was ready for a fight; adrenaline flooded his system.
The creature sprinted across the damaged clearing straight towards its target, Jack. It bore signs of a recent fight; it had a small cut across its cheek and fresh blood on its rusty blade.
Jack finished drawing the arrow he’d been holding at mid-draw and, without taking time to aim, let the arrow fly. He watched as the arrow flew past its target, burying itself in a fallen tree with a low thud.
“Shit, I didn’t aim. Calm down. Use your training,” he muttered, remembering the clear, step-by-step drawings he’d made that showed how to pull an arrow from the quiver through to releasing the bowstring.
The goblin snarled as it turned its attention to where the arrow had landed.
Jack took a deep breath, pulled another arrow from his quiver, and tried to nock it fast. His hands shook, and he fumbled the technique. Calm down. You know what to do. Any soreness from the earlier practice was gone under the influence of the adrenaline surging through his body. He nocked the arrow again, took another deep breath, and drew it back, activating True Aim.
It would take six seconds to fully activate the skills; when ready, the arrow would be 28% more accurate, faster, and powerful than a standard shot.
The goblin advanced with unexpected speed, its snarls punctuating the silence of the forest. There was so much debris in the clearing that the creature had to jump and crawl over multiple fallen trees to reach him.
He aimed his bow as the goblin jumped over a fallen tree, not thirty feet from him. Jack’s eyes narrowed as the seconds passed by, 4… 5… 6… In one quick motion, he let the skill-empowered arrow loose while releasing his breath. The arrow streaked through the air over 25% faster than his first skill-free shot.
As the goblin touched the ground, the projectile struck the creature in the left shoulder. It jerked and grunted in pain, its momentum faltering for a few seconds, causing it to stumble over an exposed tree root. After recovering, it snarled louder and continued its charge towards him.
By the Gods, I hit it. I actually hit it!
His class instincts and past life training, short as that was, took over. Jack stepped back, almost stumbling over a fallen branch, while pulling another arrow from his quiver and nocking it fast. “Shit!” he muttered as his hands trembled. He considered and dismissed the thought of retreat. Goblins were fast and had good stamina; he couldn’t outrun one.
While his bow offered him a range advantage, he also had a dagger at his side. His training in both ranged and close combat, though limited, would now be put to a pressing test. His practice session had become a battle for survival.
Controlled breaths. Keep calm. I don’t have time to use True Aim again! He pictured an arrow flying into the goblin’s chest. Jack controlled his breathing and drew the arrow back as the goblin reached within ten feet. One arrow in the heart and it’s dead! He steadied himself, aimed for its heart, and let it fly.
The arrow struck the goblin in the chest, puncturing its left lung. A cry of pain erupted from the creature as it staggered to one side. However, it didn’t fall. With surprising agility, the goblin recovered and continued its attack with renewed ferocity.
He moved aside while drawing his dagger. With the bow in his left hand and blade in the other, he prepared for the next phase of the fight.
The next few moments passed in a blur. The goblin circled, its breathing and movements erratic and desperate. It gave a ragged cough, causing blood to splutter from its mouth.
He took a step back, hoping to gain some distance to give him time to nock another arrow. It was then that the goblin drew closer, and he saw its beady eyes full of hate. It wanted to spill blood.
Jack’s breathing was heavy but controlled. He knew that if he allowed the creature to close the distance, he’d be forced into hand-to-hand combat. Dagger vs shortsword. He recalled how he’d fought one-on-one against Greaves, causing fear to almost overwhelm him. Keep calm. He gripped his dagger, finding courage in the rough texture of the damaged handle.
The goblin hesitated and grimaced as its pace faltered due to its heavy injuries. It dropped to one knee while grunting in pain.
Jack rushed backwards, positioning himself so his back was against an ancient tree near the clearing’s edge; a natural barrier, limiting the goblin’s manoeuvrability around him.
The goblin paused, its pain-filled snarl giving way to a look of frustrated fury.
In that brief moment of hesitation, Jack held his blade between his teeth and retrieved another arrow. As the arrow was nocked, the goblin ran towards him while coughing up blood. The goblin wouldn’t survive this battle, even if it managed to win.
He drew the arrow back. With precise concentration honed by spending hundreds of hours crafting spell scrolls, he aimed for the creature’s head and released the arrow. It cut through the air and connected with a sickening thud on the side of the goblin’s skull. Its head jerked to the side as the arrow left a large, bloody gash along its skull. Its momentum faltered.
“I hit it!” His eyes widened at the shock that his aim was true without the use of any skills.
But the creature was still not done. With an unworldly cry, the goblin charged forward with reckless abandon while swinging its bloody blade in wide arcs.
With his back still against the ancient tree, Jack lowered his bow in defence and retrieved the dagger from his mouth.
The goblin, unsteady and bleeding, attempted a desperate lunge; its rusty shortsword swinging towards Jack’s centre. Jack stepped forward while blocking the rusty blade with his dagger. Sparks flew as the two weapons kissed in the dappled light of the forest.
Undeterred, the goblin attacked again, its weapon swinging more like a club than a sword. Jack parried with the shaft of his bow, the metal of the bloody blade scraping against the rune-protected wood of the white oak bow; the sound was brief and sharp.
Sensing an opportunity, Jack kicked the goblin in the ribs, causing the creature to stumble and fall. As the goblin rolled on the floor, its snarls turned into unintelligible gurgles as the arrow shafts in its shoulder and chest snapped under the weight of its fall.
Jack shifted his stance and, with a decisive motion, leapt onto the goblin’s back while yelling “Fucking die!” His dagger struck again and again, piercing its shoulders, neck, and back. Warm blood sprayed from the goblin’s neck, coating Jack’s hair and face, the metallic tang of iron saturating his senses.
The scene was savage, a fight for survival etched into his memory. Pain flared in the palm of his right hand with each plunge into the goblin’s flesh, but he didn’t stop until after the creature remained still.
Sitting atop the goblin’s lifeless, blood-soaked form, Jack’s chest heaved from exertion. A wave of power surged through him. It was as if raw life energy had been injected into his veins, washing away a fraction of the fatigue that had gripped him moments before.
“What’s happening?!” he shouted in surprise, his mind racing to make sense of the phenomenon. The wave of power left him feeling both invigorated and unsettled. “What the hell was that?” he said, staring at his trembling hands, still dripping with the goblin’s blood.
The sensation reminded him of what occurred during the forbidden blood magic ritual he’d witnessed when the blood cult sacrificed the orc warrior. It was similar, though far less intense than the overwhelming power he’d felt while hiding in the hayloft owned by Viscount Tides.
As silence reclaimed the clearing, Jack’s heartbeat thundered in his ears. He gripped the dagger and pulled it free from the goblin’s lifeless form. Taking a moment to steady his breathing, he whispered to himself, “I did it… I killed a goblin!” The words hung in the air, a mix of disbelief and triumph.
It had happened so fast. A routine day of solitary practice was marred by the sudden, violent intrusion of a goblin attack. He allowed himself a few moments to catch his breath before wiping the blood from his eyes.
The reality of what had happened began to set in. A single goblin, vicious and determined, had forced him into combat weeks, if not months, before he was ready. And despite the odds, he’d prevailed.
Jack checked his body for wounds. Despite being covered in the goblin’s blood, there were no obvious injuries, only an itching sensation in the palm of his right hand. He wiped the goblin’s blood from his hand, noticing nothing more than a small, insignificant scar left by a blood-red rose thorn.
“By the Gods, I was amazing!” Jack all but roared. He was still riding the adrenaline rush of battle, and the overwhelming satisfaction that he’d managed to defend himself using both his bow and dagger was intoxicating.
“I could kill the bastard Baron right now!” As he clenched his blood-soaked dagger, he imagined the arrows he’d sunk into the goblin hitting the much larger form of Baron Greaves.
After a few moments of exhilaration, he remembered how Greaves had overpowered him. He shook his head. “No. No, I’ll keep to my plan. A few years from now, the Baron will feel the sting of my arrows as they destroy his worthless heart. If he even has one.” He chuckled at the thought as the adrenaline rush began to subside.
Jack groaned as he felt light-headed, fatigued, and thirsty. With shaking hands, he took a few gulps of refreshing water from his canteen. “Adrenaline sucks,” he said as he stored his canteen in his pack.
After confirming the goblin was dead, he decided to treat the encounter as another lesson. One recorded not in the quiet repetition of practice arrows on a target, but in the split-second choices that defined life or death as two adversaries fought.
Taking a short break until the post-adrenaline fatigue and other negative effects passed, he sat on the cool grass and pulled out his notebook once again.
