"I scrub, I scrub, I scrub scrub scrub…"
In a dim cave, Eric was hunched over a shallow puddle, furiously scrubbing a gri-encrusted stick with a bucket of water beside him. The 'stick,' of course, was anything but ordinary—it had been encased in a thick, greasy layer of gunk. He smacked it, bashed it, dunked it again, and scrubbed like a man possessed.
Eventually, after a heroic battle involving both elbow grease and mild profanity, most of the gri peeled off. Beneath the ss erged a gleaming blade that sparkled faintly in the dim light.
Eric's eyes widened. The old muck-covered sword had transford before his eyes. The cursed status—"Coated in Filth"—vanished from its item description. It now proudly displayed a new na: [Ancient Elven Sword].
Attack 9.
"…Holy crap!"
That was two points higher than a diamond sword!
Basically, this thing was like a diamond sword with Sharpness III slapped on from the get-go. What kind of loot drop was this? Jackpot!
Diamond sword? Never heard of her. Don't co between and my new best friend, Ancient Elven Sword.
He studied the blade reverently. Anything with "Elven" in the na and "Ancient" as a prefix had to be seriously old—like, "older than your grandma's grandma's favorite spoon" old.
Elves were practically immortal, so if this sword had any relation to them, it probably ca from an era humans didn't even have plumbing.
Eric figured this thing was at least from the last Age. Maybe even the Age before that.
Gotta hand it to Middle-Earth-tier blacksmiths. Their weapons aged better than fine wine—no rust, no rot, just pure, murder-ready craftsmanship.
After admiring his new toy, Eric glanced down at the muddy puddle he'd been using as a washbasin. Bits of ancient filth still floated in the murky water. He looked at his empty water bucket.
Yeah, no. This water's retired.
Then he looked back at his glowing sword. Just this one item alone was worth more than a chest full of gold or silver.
Wait a second…
Was it… still glowing?
Alarm bells went off in his head.
Eric's eyes narrowed. He tensed, gripped the sword, and silently crept out of the cave, slipping into the shadows of nearby bushes.
Rustle. Rustle.
Sure enough, a few monts later, the sound of heavy footsteps reached his ears.
An orc ran past his hiding spot, heading toward a larger orc riding a direwolf.
"Boss! I saw torchlight in that cave over there!"
The mounted orc snorted. "Ignore it. That's Oger territory."
"Yes, sir." The orc saluted and backed off.
But the direwolf beneath the leader began sniffing the air, clearly unsettled.
"What is it, girl?" the leader asked, rubbing its coarse fur.
Its blood-red eyes scanned the area—and locked onto the bushes.
Eric sighed.
These damn direwolves were the worst. They didn't just sll better than dogs. They could climb. Tree branches? No problem. Cliff walls? Child's play.
Eric's gaze followed the rest of the patrol. A squad of about twenty direwolf riders, each ard and armored.
He tightened his grip on the sword.
Twenty enemies on horseback... That was a bit of a problem.
If he were wearing diamond armor, Eric might've stood a chance. At least he could tank hits while charging through. But iron armor? Not exactly bulletproof.
Truth be told, Eric wasn't so combat master. His fighting skills were passable at best. Against Ogers, sure—he had a thod. But anything over ten enemies, and things started to go downhill fast.
Should he run?
…No. No way. He just got this sword.
He wasn't about to let so oversized mutts and green-skinned thugs bully him out of it.
That said, any seasoned Minecraft player knew better than to charge headfirst into a mob. Especially one riding direwolves.
As one wolf prowled closer to his hiding spot, Eric silently backed away, keeping low and quiet.
The wolf sniffed around the bushes but only caught faint traces of his scent.
"Sothing was here?"
"Maybe," the squad leader growled. "Stay alert."
anwhile, Eric was already elsewhere.
He pulled out a shovel.
Ti for Plan B: dig.
While the orc patrol marched ahead, Eric busily carved out a tunnel in the dirt, covering his tracks as he went. Once done, he followed them from a safe distance.
"Hm. They're headed toward the Misty Mountains," he mused. "Heading back to base, maybe?"
Perfect. That ant they wouldn't expect a surprise attack.
Eric crept through the underbrush, drew his glowing blade, and launched himself out of the bushes with a flying slash.
THWACK!
The rear-most rider didn't even have ti to scream. Sword t orc neck. One instant later, his direwolf mount followed suit, bisected with one glorious stroke.
Maybe direwolves weren't that tough after all. Or maybe this sword was just that sharp.
"AMBUSH!" soone finally shouted.
Another rider charged Eric with a cleaver. He whipped out his shield, blocked the blow, shoved him back, and took off running while the rest of the patrol turned around.
Of course, he couldn't outrun wolves forever.
One got close—too close.
Eric leaped into a thicket. The wolf lunged after him… only to find an empty glade. No human. No footprints.
Vanished.
The main squad caught up.
"Where the hell did he go?!"
The direwolves sniffed again. Fresh dirt. Disturbed soil.
Not a trace of movent.
Far beneath them, Eric removed a block of dirt and climbed out of another hidden tunnel entrance.
"What was that?" one of the orc scouts muttered.
He moved to investigate and found a suspiciously square patch of freshly dug earth.
"...Did soone farm here?"
His confusion didn't last long. A flash of white light burst from below.
THUD!
The scout's mount crumpled. The orc hit the ground with a yelp—and was imdiately impaled.
"Over there!" soone shouted.
But by the ti the other orcs charged in…
Eric was gone again.
THUMP.
Back into the tunnel. He sealed the entrance and jogged to another exit.
"WHERE IS HE?!"
The orc leader snarled in frustration. This was supposed to be a routine patrol, not a Scooby-Doo episode.
"AHHH!"
Another scream. Another fallen rider.
"He's over here!"
"NO—he's behind us!"
"OW—WHAT THE—?!"
They couldn't tell how many were attacking them. From the way the strikes ca from different angles and directions, it felt like multiple enemies.
"It's more than one! Has to be!"
The leader growled, "Cowards! Co out and face us like warriors!"
No response.
Eric, anwhile, peeked out from another camouflaged hole in the ground, waited… then WHACK—another orc down.
"I see you!"
WHIZZ!
An arrow shot through the air—thunk!
Eric grunted as it hit him square in the chest.
"Ha!" the orc leader laughed triumphantly. "Got you now! I'm going to gut you like a fish, roast your liver, and make soup from your bones!"
Eric, unfazed, yanked the arrow out, casually stuffed it into his backpack, and muttered, "Thanks for the restock."
Then turned and bolted.
He dove into another thicket. The leader's smile vanished.
"He's gone AGAIN?!"
They reached the spot—and saw only smooth ground.
The orc leader was now visibly spooked. This wasn't normal. One guy shouldn't be able to do this much damage.
This forest was probably riddled with traps. If they kept chasing, they'd be picked off one by one.
The leader made the smart call.
"Everyone pull back—"
THWACK!
An arrow ca from below and embedded deep into his shoulder, punching through his armor.
He scread.
Looking down, he finally saw it.
A perfect, square-shaped tunnel entrance.
It all made sense now.
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