Jake clenched his teeth, a pressure building in his chest, and stagger-ran toward a shallow puddle not far away.
Dead leaves crunched under his feet. He lowered his head with something close to grim, tragic determination and stared at the rippling surface, trembling slightly in the wind.
The water settled.
The reflection sharpened.
And then Jake saw himself.
A short, stocky little gnoll.
Black-brown short fur covered his whole body. His chest was round, his belly slightly puffed out, his legs short and thick—and even standing still, his stance was noticeably duck-footed.
His face was even worse. A protruding snout, sharp canine teeth, and a pair of round eyes now filled with an indescribable kind of despair.
The scariest part?
Those eyes were staring right back at him.
Because that was him.
Jake went silent for a beat.
The next second, a howl so miserable it bordered on tragic exploded through the forest.
"Awoooo—!!!"
The sound threaded through gaps between tree trunks, echoing back and forth over the woodland, even startling a few gnolls wandering in the distance.
They lifted their heads, puzzled, glanced toward the source… then slowly lowered their heads again and went back to shambling around aimlessly.
The system's notification voice seemed to still be ringing in Jake's ears.
"Surprise is everywhere."
Right now, Jake only wanted to spit out a curse.
This "surprise" was a little too damn big.
He was still reeling from the psychological gut-punch when a crisp female voice suddenly carried over from a small clearing nearby, open curiosity and a hint of amusement in it.
"Huh. What an ugly gnoll!"
Jake snapped his head up.
His ears actually twitched—this new body seemed weirdly sensitive to sound.
He followed the voice and saw five figures standing at the edge of the clearing. One of them, a pretty girl who looked around eighteen or nineteen, had her hands on her hips and was staring straight at him.
Four teammates stood with her.
All five sets of eyes locked onto Jake almost at the same time.
It wasn't a hostile look. It was that excited look players got when they found a "starter mob."
What made Jake feel even more suffocated was that when he instinctively scanned the area, he realized there were actually a dozen or so Gnoll (Frail) wandering around the clearing in ones and twos.
They were all about the same size, with gray-brown fur and sluggish movements—textbook newbie monsters.
Except—
Standing among them, he was painfully obvious.
Shorter proportions.
Rounder belly.
Duck-footed legs.
Like the system had generated his character by deliberately piling every flaw it could find onto him.
That's it. This game is absolutely screwing with me, Jake cursed in his head, his chest tightening.
But before he could keep ranting, a faint system prompt quietly surfaced at the edge of his vision, a thin wash of light flickering in the air.
Combat triggered.
Almost at the exact same moment, the group of players moved fast.
"Sunny, the mobs just respawned. People are gonna swarm this spot any second." A guy swept his gaze over the gnolls, his voice edged with nerves. "Let's burn a few fast—hit the ugly one first."
"Yeah," another girl chimed in with a laugh. "Hit the ugly one first. Bad luck monsters always drop better loot!"
Jake's mind went blank for half a second.
Ugly… means better drops?
What kind of cursed gamer superstition was that?
"Seriously… what the hell," he muttered under his breath. "That's just messed up."
But the five of them clearly weren't here to debate. They split up fast, closing in from different angles. Their coordination was smooth—like people who'd already farmed plenty of starter mobs.
It was launch week.
Nobody had real gear yet.
But a numbers advantage was its own kind of weapon.
The girl in front had the ID "SunnyBunny." She rushed in, her steps crunching softly through the leaves, and the instant she got into range, her right fist swung out with a faint white glow around it.
Not a skill.
Just that tiny energy feedback the system added when it boosted a basic attack.
Her fist slammed into Jake's chest.
Thump.
The impact pushed through thick fur and hide and sank deep. A dull ache bloomed across his ribs. Jake sucked in a reflexive breath, and a bright red number popped at the edge of his vision.
-3.
Before he could even steady himself, "PurePixel" slid in from the side. He dipped his weight, drew his arm up tight, then snapped a clean uppercut straight into Jake's torso.
Thump.
Another heavy, ugly hit.
-3.
Jake stumbled back half a step, his clawed feet carving a shallow line through the leaf litter.
It wasn't lethal pain. Not even close.
But being treated like a punching bag by five people at once lit his chest on fire.
"Screw you!"
The anger surged up all at once.
He swung the busted wooden club in his hands—a worn gnoll club he'd just grabbed off the ground earlier. The rough handle was a little slick in his claws, but he gritted his teeth and whipped it anyway.
Clumsy, but full-force.
The club tore through the air.
Crack!
The blow landed solidly on SunnyBunny's shoulder. The impact knocked her off-balance, forcing her back half a step.
-5!
"Ow! Its damage is so high!" SunnyBunny yelped, genuine surprise in her voice.
Jake snorted inwardly.
High, my ass.
If the system hadn't forcibly cut his base stats by twenty percent, that hit would've been nastier.
And as for crits?
One percent.
Basically the odds of winning the lottery.
"Sunny, don't panic." A guy in the back adjusted his position as he talked. "Gnolls can drop weapons. Even a worn gnoll club sells for two or three hundred bucks right now. Supply's basically nonexistent."
"Whoa, that expensive?"
"A lot of guilds and pros are rushing levels," someone else added. "Even +3 to +6 damage means you tag and secure mobs faster."
The short-haired girl beside them shook her head. "Don't get your hopes up. You can kill a hundred of these and still not see one drop."
"Doesn't hurt to try," someone said. "Just take the spot first, talk later."
Jake listened to them casually discussing whether he was going to "drop loot" right in front of his face, and his expression went completely black.
He barely managed to swing the club up to block another hit, while his brain was screaming.
So if I die, I'm literally paying you?
Do mobs not get basic human rights or what?
In just those few lines of conversation, his Health slid down fast—already at 40.
The five of them were still sitting comfortably near 100.
Jake's breathing got heavier, his chest rising and falling hard. Every hit made his body rock, and the pressure of being surrounded stacked higher and higher.
At this rate…
He was going to get worn down and killed.
Then his peripheral vision caught movement deeper in the trees.
A few Gnoll (Frail) were wandering slowly nearby.
Sluggish, not spread too far apart—just a pack of aimless beasts drifting through the woods.
Jake's steps faltered.
A thought began to take shape in his head.
Wait.
His heartbeat kicked up.
Right now… he was a mob too.
So those guys…
Did that make them "on his side"?