CHAPTER 181: UNSEEN

Both of his hands came up, fingers splayed wide and trembling with strain.

The ground beneath his feet cracked from the sheer output of mana as dozens of fiery bolts formed around him—each one pulsing like a miniature sun.

Then he fired.

A barrage of searing bolts screamed toward me, each one bright enough to leave streaks in my vision, filling the clearing with blinding light and heat.

I sprinted sideways, dodging the incoming blasts just in time.

Each one struck the ground behind me with a violent crack, erupting into plumes of fire and smoke that rolled through the trees like a living storm. Splinters and embers hissed past my face as I darted between the trunks, boots pounding against the uneven forest floor.

I didn’t stop. The instant my feet found rhythm, I broke into a full sprint—cutting through the undergrowth and heading straight toward the enemy encampment. My lungs burned with every breath, but I pushed harder. If I couldn’t use my innate skill, then I would rely on what I still had—my legs, my stamina, my will to keep moving.

If I were fast enough, I could still catch up to the chief before he reached the encampment. But that meant I’d be facing him and his entire retinue head-on.

Well... that wasn’t something that particularly bothered me.

Behind me, the chosen gave chase, their voices faint but growing louder. Hissra’s flames cut through the night again, streaking past in a cascade of burning light that chased me like a vengeful comet. Gork joined in from the treetops, his arrows whistling through the smoke, each tip glowing with emberlight as they ignited midair.

Then came the stench—a heavy, acidic tang that made my throat tighten. I glanced back just in time to see a swirling orb of greenish-black poison hurtling toward me, leaving a sizzling trail in its wake.

They weren’t letting me go easily.

I switched between defenses as I ran—activating [Mana Shield] whenever Mavrik’s poison hissed too close, then letting [Fractured Existence] bend the heat of Hissra’s flames away from me. The forest around me blurred into streaks of shadow and firelight, every stride kicking up dirt and cinders. My lungs burned, my heart thudded like a drum inside my chest, but I didn’t dare slow down.

Still, no matter how fast I pushed myself, the sound of pursuit only grew louder. The chosen were gaining on me—and fast. I could feel their presence pressing in, their killing intent closing like a noose around my back.

Damn it. They were faster.

That realization hit me harder than I expected. I hadn’t invested much into agility—not when I could rely on teleportation to close distance or escape. But now, with my innate skill off-limits, every step, every breath, every ounce of speed mattered.

If I was going to survive this chase, I needed to fix that.

I raised my hand mid-run, summoning my status window with a mental command. The faint, bluish interface flickered into view before me, its glow reflecting off the sweat dripping down my brow.

[Status Window]

Name: Eli Cross

Race: Goblin

Title: Drugar’s Chosen

Class: Dimensional Sovereign

Level: 39

HP: 1693 / 1693

MP: 911 / 911

Kill Count: 21

[Stats]

Strength: 85

Stamina: 107

Agility: 68

Intelligence: 69

Perception: 64

(Available Points: 33)

I glanced at the numbers while dodging another explosion, the decision already forming in my head.

If teleportation was out, I’d have to compensate the old-fashioned way—by making my legs worth a damn.

Agility had always been one of my lowest stats—barely above perception. It wasn’t something I’d ever prioritized. I never needed to. But right now, every fraction of a second mattered.

"System," I said between breaths, voice low but steady, "add twelve points to Agility, six to Perception, and six to Intelligence."

The reply came instantly.

Ding!

[Agility: 68 → 80]

[Perception: 64 → 70]

[Intelligence: 69 → 75]

The change was immediate—visceral. It felt as though my body suddenly remembered how it was supposed to move. My stride lengthened, the weight in my legs vanished, and the wind pressure around me shifted as my speed surged. Every step landed cleaner, smoother, faster.

In an instant, the forest became a blur of shapes and color rushing past. The ground cracked faintly beneath my boots as I accelerated, leaving deep imprints where my feet had been moments before.

Behind me, the forest erupted in chaos—Hissra’s flames carving streaks of molten light through the air, Gork’s arrows hissing past in fiery arcs. But with the distance I’d gained, their shots came late, clumsy, and desperate. The heat brushed my back, but never caught me.

And then... silence.

No explosions. No arrows. No pursuit I could see.

But even as the noise faded, a prickle crawled up the back of my neck. That sixth sense I’d learned never to ignore whispered that I wasn’t alone. Someone—or something—was still on me.

I slowed my breathing, narrowing my eyes.

Through all of this... I could feel it.

I was still being followed.

I turned sharply, scanning the trees behind me—nothing.

There was no movement, no sound, not even the faintest disturbance in the air. The forest stood eerily still, the faint glow of smoldering embers flickering in the distance where I’d just escaped from.

But the quiet didn’t fool me. I knew the feeling of being watched; it wasn’t something you could see—it was something you felt. A faint pressure in the chest. A whisper of instinct clawing at the back of the mind.

I kept running, but my focus shifted from speed to awareness, calculating how to shake off whoever was tailing me. There was no doubt about it now—someone was following, and closely.

By process of elimination, it could only be one person.

Nira.

The one with the innate skill, Silent Step.

She had disappeared the instant the battle began, slipping out of sight as the others charged in headfirst. At first, I thought she’d fled, abandoning her teammates to save herself—but that didn’t seem to fit.

And what this meant was that she was still here. Hiding. Tracking me through the trees.

She was most likely the reason I’d felt that spike of danger earlier, the one that never manifested. The same presence that had almost fooled me into throwing Druk’s body at empty air.

At the time, I thought it was a coincidence. Now, I wasn’t so sure.

If she had truly vanished from my senses that completely, it meant only one thing—she was using some kind of [Stealth] skill. One so refined that even the forest itself refused to betray her presence. No broken twigs, no shifting air, no trace of mana. Nothing.

That realization narrowed my options to just one.

If I wanted to find her, I’d have to level the field.

I came to a sudden stop, boots skidding across the forest floor as dirt scattered beneath my heels. The faint echo of my movement faded quickly into silence, swallowed by the trees.

Then I drew a slow breath, forcing my pulse to steady, and reached inward for a familiar current of power I hadn’t touched in a long while.

[Stealth].