The glint of something metallic caught Eric's eye, and he instantly forgot about the grime beneath his boots. Without hesitation, he rushed over, torch in hand.
As the flickering light illuminated the area, his eyes widened.
Piled on the ground was a stash of coins—some tarnished with age, others still gleaming—mostly silver. Scattered nearby were various odd trinkets: utensils, plates, goblets, candlesticks—crafted from different metals.
Some silver. Some gold.
Eric couldn't stop the grin from stretching across his face.
Jackpot.
With a rustle and clatter, he began gathering everything remotely valuable and crammed it into his backpack. But before long, he realized he was running out of space. After a quick mental debate, Eric decided to set up a makeshift smelting station on the spot.
Using the surrounding materials, he crafted a crude reverse furnace and tossed in all the random metal junk.
When the last spoon melted down, the results were in: five gold ingots, eleven silver ingots, and a pouch full of silver coins.
Just like that, his backpack was spacious again.
In terms of actual volume, it wasn't much—the items had mostly been tableware and decorative bits—but the sheer number of them had made storage tricky.
As he finished sorting through the melted-down loot, a new notification popped up.
[New Crafting Recipes Unlocked: Metal Cutlery, Hanging Chandeliers]
"Nice," Eric muttered, already imagining future upgrades.
Satisfied, he left the cave with a spring in his step, pulling up his map and heading deeper into the forest.
"Ogres. Total treasure chests with legs."
After this haul, Eric was more than a little excited about the forest full of ogres just waiting to be looted.
The next day.
Daylight.
The other side of the mountain.
A pained roar echoed through the woods.
An ogre jolted awake from its nap, blinking in confusion—only to find a despicable human repeatedly stabbing it in the side with a sword. Furious, the ogre tried to get up and charge… but then froze.
It was daylight.
Even though the forest canopy cast deep shadows, even the faintest sliver of sunlight brushing its skin made the creature recoil.
"You miserable little insect!" the ogre roared.
It grabbed a boulder and hurled it toward the trees.
CRACK!
The stone shattered a thick tree trunk, leaving a visible fracture down its center. Another inch and it would've snapped in half.
Eric broke into a cold sweat.
"Wait, ogres can do ranged attacks too?!"
If that rock had connected, it would've shaved off half his health bar—or more.
No time to chat.
Eric switched to his tried-and-true strategy: block the cave entrance, ready the bow, kite the ogre around.
It didn't take long before the ogre collapsed, groaning its final words.
"De…spi…ca…ble…"
Eric stepped over the corpse without a glance and marched into the cave, torch in hand.
Experience was everything. This time, his search was swift and precise. Every potential hiding spot was combed through. Anything bulky or inconvenient? Straight into the smelter.
Efficient. Clean. Professional.
Watching his inventory fill with ingots and coins, Eric let out a satisfied sigh.
"This forest really is made of money. Ogres are practically walking loot boxes."
He gave a nod of approval and pushed further into the forest.
One week later.
Nighttime.
Deep in the woods, an ogre huddled in a bush, clutching a squirming goat. With a sharp twist, it snapped the animal's neck and sprinted toward its cave.
"Come on, come on…"
Sweating bullets, the ogre's enormous head darted left and right in panic.
"Please don't show up, please don't show up… I just want to eat in peace. No sign of the treasure-snatching ghost, right? Please?"
After a long sprint, it finally spotted the mouth of its cave. Relief washed over it as it hurried inside, lit a fire, and set about roasting its hard-won meal.
The goat's skin began to sizzle, the air filling with that unmistakable smell of roasted meat. The ogre, licking its lips, finally began to relax.
Chewing noisily on the charred mutton, it let out a satisfied grunt as warmth returned to its belly.
"Haah… That so-called treasure ghost? If it dares show up, I'll punch it into the dirt!"
"Oh? Is that so?"
"Of course!" the ogre said proudly.
Then it paused.
Huh?
It turned its massive head—and found a human standing right there beside it.
A twisted grin curled across the ogre's face.
"Looks like I'm having seconds tonight, hehehe—"
Thud.
Moments later, the ogre staggered back, bleeding heavily from its neck. It collapsed with a dull crash.
Eric, standing beside the corpse, casually gnawed on some dried beef while waiting for his health to regenerate.
He'd spent an entire week in this forest playing a deadly game of cat and mouse with ogres. By now, he'd taken down more than a dozen.
And truth be told, he wasn't using the bow much anymore. Ogres were too tough—by the fourth kill, his arrows were snapped or dulled beyond use.
So he'd switched to melee: a basic iron sword, a worn-out shield, and a half-dented suit of armor.
If things went south, he had fallback options—dig a trench, wall himself in, or go full Minecraft mode and build a tower.
At first, their brute strength had terrified him. A single slap from an ogre could crack solid stone. If that hit him, it'd hurt like hell.
But after enough battles—and beatdowns—Eric had begun to understand them.
Their attack patterns.
The tells.
The timing.
He had earned this knowledge one painful lesson at a time, each mistake burned into muscle memory.
Most people wouldn't have survived the first hit. But Eric did. And he kept going, dodging better, blocking smarter, countering faster.
He wasn't a PvP master.
But in PvE?
He was getting there.
Later that night, Eric walked out of yet another cave, frowning.
"Broke. Absolutely broke."
The ogre inside had been dirt poor. No loot. Just bones. And grime.
Yeah, not all ogres were hoarding treasure.
In fact, based on the week's experience, most weren't.
Whether a cave had treasure or not was pretty much RNG. A loot box with legs.
But there was another problem.
Eric noticed he was finding fewer and fewer ogres.
That whole day, he'd only encountered one—and that was sheer luck. The creature had left its cave to hunt, or he might've missed it entirely.
And then he remembered what it had muttered before dying:
"The treasure ghost…"
Eric frowned.
"Wait… are they talking about me?"
He rubbed his temples as the realization sank in.
Maybe he'd made a bit too much of an impression.
If his legend was spreading among the ogre population, that meant…
"They're hiding from me now?"
That could be a problem.
Sighing, Eric stepped over the roasting pit and was about to leave when something caught his eye.
He froze.
There—jammed into the roasting rack—was a greasy, soot-covered stick used to skewer the goat.
Eric squinted.
Was it… glowing?
He leaned in.
No mistake. It was definitely glowing from the inside.
Without hesitation, Eric grabbed it and pulled it free.
[Filthy Ancient Elven Sword]