A Beginner's First Steps 5
After her first goblin fight, Hanna's confidence soared. She threw her once-hunched shoulders back and strode ahead with swagger. Of the four monster types I'd explained—slimes, horned rabbits, horned foxes, and goblins—she'd just learned that the most dangerous of them all went down in a single hit.
"This way next!"
Goblin, goblin, slime, horned fox, slime, horned rabbit—she one-shotted every monster she ran into, looking surprisingly like she had a warrior's instincts. Even a strong farmhand, if he'd never killed anything before or if his heart was soft, might need two or three solid beatings to put down a Floor 1 monster. She was methodically spearing them one by one with her staff.
"If you didn't have a mage's talent, you could've just picked up a spear and been fine."
"Hehe, thanks for the compliment!"
Thanks to her, even with a few duds mixed in, the lowest-grade Mana Stones were piling up nicely. She was also circling the entrance as her axis, sweeping for monsters with return in mind—the habits of someone well used to games. Watching her jab her weapon into charging monsters without flinching, I had to admit she really did look like a game streamer.
If she'd been shrieking and struggling against Floor 1 goblins, I'd still have had to drag her along for the quest. The fact that she was pulling more than her own weight already made me want to bow in gratitude.
"Since it's the first day, let's just grab about ten Mana Stones as a taste and head back."
"Ten… Got it!"
And then, mid-confident stride, Hanna's feet stopped dead. For exactly the reason I'd explained earlier—why clueless first-timers died in here.
Two goblins in front. One behind.
She'd been marching straight at a single goblin when another spawned from the brush beside her, and while she paused, a third spawned behind us and began creeping closer. Even if she could one-shot them individually, the tension of a three-to-one numbers disadvantage was hard to shake.
"There are thr—three goblins?"
"Hand me one Mana Stone each and we can head back right now."
Still, with me standing casually at her side, she blew out a long, steadying breath and pulled herself together. She didn't seem ready to ask for help yet. She leveled her staff forward and shuffled sideways, dragging her feet—preferring three enemies in front of her over being surrounded front and back.
"Beat a three-on-one without taking a hit for a hundred bucks? Invest in safe assets? Bring it on… Wait, if Senior steps in the mission fails. Just don't look nervous and I'm good? Easy for you to say, seriously."
I watched in silence while she muttered at her viewers, then stepped forward on a mission. That bald warrior guy had supposedly taught her a simple shove—but from where I stood, it looked like a textbook low thrust.
Whether it was player stat correction or pure momentum, the staff split the air with real force and cracked the nearest center goblin square between the eyes with a solid thwack. The full-power thrust sent it tumbling backward, and with a soft poof, it turned into a Mana Stone.
Kieeeeek!
Kyaaak!
The goblins on either side saw it happen and charged like wild animals, one with a rock, the other with a wooden club.
No need to step in… I guess.
I'd been ready to grab one if she flinched—but it didn't look necessary. The staff she'd thrust so hard now swung left like a baseball bat and cracked the closer left-side goblin across the head.
Kyaaak?!
Kieeek!
The form was messy enough that it didn't kill, but the goblin dropped its rock and went sprawling. With its trusted kin on the ground, the club goblin was left charging alone. It shrieked and lunged at the now-unguarded Hanna—
"Not a chance!"
A slim leg shot out with a solid thud, and the goblin went flying. So she couldn't finish them all at once, but she was knocking them down one by one. Whether the game-world mindset made her bold or she was just built different, she looked far more like a warrior than your average country kid.
While the kick sent one tumbling, the left goblin—rock gone, clutching its head—staggered back to its feet. The moment it found its footing and opened its eyes, what came flying at it was Hanna's thrust, already reset and clean.
Thwack! Another goblin became a lowest-grade Mana Stone.
"You've definitely got combat sense. But kicks like that only work on goblins—once we go higher, remember to finish them with magic, not your feet."
"Yes!"
Using weapon reach and the size difference to disrupt their movement and force one-on-one exchanges over and over. She clearly had talent—even with a keyboard and mouse swapped out for her own body, she moved without hesitation, and I was thoroughly satisfied.
Honestly, when I first dropped into this world and got surrounded, I froze up and only won on pure physical stats. There was no "shut-in gamer becomes a shield genius in another world" arc for me. I suffered plenty.
"Hmm. Ten lowest-grade Mana Stones. Faster than I expected."
"Right? Do they not drop well normally?"
"They don't drop much from anything weaker than a goblin, and Novice Adventurers tend to freeze up at the idea of taking a life, so even goblins eat a lot of their time. Looking at it that way, Hanna, you've got excellent adventurer material."
I kept the praise coming, and she couldn't stop the corners of her mouth from twitching into a giddy little grin. I'd seen her bicker with her viewers plenty of times, but face-to-face compliments seemed new to her—she squirmed in place, and it was honestly pretty cute.
Even so, her eyes kept sliding sideways.
While partied with Han Sea — Acquire lowest-grade Mana Stones on Floor 1
10 / 10
Hanna kept sneaking glances at the chat, and my curiosity finally won out. While the camera drone swung down toward the Mana Stones on the ground, I quietly used the chat access privilege I'd just received as a reward. Yeah—she really was better than most streamers.
This is surprisingly fun to watch.
Living in a medieval fantasy world where the only entertainment was duels, opera, and theater, then suddenly getting an internet chat full of slang and abbreviations—the addiction hit hard. It had been ten years since I'd seen a forum or a chat window, so even the pointless banter and spam was entertaining.
I browsed the chat for a bit, and once the camera swung back toward me, I spoke up to Hanna, who was still diligently alternating between the Mana Stones and her chat.
"Still, overdoing it on day one isn't smart. Grab the stones and let's head back."
"Okay! …Um, Senior Roland?"
"Hm?"
"I'm kind of curious how strong you are. Could you show me?"
She gave me a bashful little eye-smile, laughing awkwardly. The request came out of nowhere—but even while she smiled, her eyes kept sliding sideways. Chat, or some kind of mission?
Hanna hesitated, a little embarrassed and sorry for asking me to show off. I had no reason to refuse. Putting on a bit of a display in front of her and her viewers would only raise the odds they'd keep me in the party to the end.
I already knew nobody would throw away a uniquely overpowered 6-star NPC, but this was the first real quest opportunity I'd gotten in ten years. Better to make it airtight.
But what am I supposed to show?
The problem was that I was a tank, not a mage or a swordsman.
If I'd been a rogue, I could've pulled out vanishing arts or stealth. An archer could split an earlier arrow with a later one. A mage could torch the whole grassland with flashy attack magic. Those were the kinds of show-off techniques Advanced Adventurers loved to flex with.
But me? A heavy-armored knight whose entire kit was trusting a shield and armor that looked like game items and crushing things with raw physical power. Sure, I could tank a giant's club barehanded or shrug off a lesser dragon's breath—but out here on an empty plain with no real opponents, I had nothing flashy to demonstrate.
"Hmm. Show you, huh…"
"Ah—if that sounded rude, I'm sorry."
"It wasn't a rude request. Adventurers are all full of vanity—they love showing off. I just don't know what to demonstrate on a bare grassland, that's all."
I quickly soothed Hanna as her face fell, then went back to thinking. I could flick a goblin in half with a finger-flick, but would that even look impressive? Hanna herself could already one-shot them with a decent staff swing. Reading the boards and chat had my own adventurer pride starting to boil over.
Something that would burn my strength into Hanna's memory and hook the viewers' interest. I fretted over it while fiddling with my adventurer badge—using the pretense of checking the map arrow to sneak another look at the chat.
A few weird comments mixed in, but mostly the same thoughts I was having. I kept pretending to check the map arrow while skimming chat, and caught one opinion that flashed by fast. Hanna and the other viewers had missed it—but my eyes locked on it for sure.
"Well… this might look a little ridiculous."
"What is it?"
She didn't want to miss that three-hundred-dollar mission. She darted over like a fish hitting bait.
"A goblin just spawned at the perfect time. I'll show you."
"Okay!"
A slime would've been too squishy and annoying to grab. A horned rabbit or fox might've looked like animal abuse. But what had conveniently appeared was an ugly little dwarf of a monster—a goblin. I didn't even reach for the mace at my hip. I stripped off my light-armor gauntlets entirely and reached out barehanded, and behind me I heard a sharp intake of breath.
Keyaaaak!
The little monster swung a sharp rock at the hand holding it. Of course, ten years of leveling as a 6-star tank meant it couldn't even scratch my skin. It swung the rock, clawed, bit—thrashed with pointed teeth and nails—and still left nothing. Not a scrape. Not even a red mark on the pale back of my hand.
"A-are you okay?"
"Below Floor 10, I could take my armor off and nap among the monsters."
"Whoa…"
Leaving that odd little gasp of awe behind me, I tensed my arm and hurled the goblin skyward like a shot put.
Geeeee—yaaa—gyaaak!!
The camera caught the angle perfectly.