Immediately, an arrow tore through the side of the carriage, narrowly missing Syril's face.
Both of them moved to stand at once...
And then their bodies were thrown sideways as the carriage lurched at a violent angle, toppling over.
Stiletto slammed into Syril, the impact knocking the air from her lungs as they struggled to make sense of the sudden shift in space.
The carriage had tipped onto its side.
"Urgh—?!"
But why...
Why did he feel something soft and squishy—insanely warm, even with a hint of wetness?
Syril grimaced.
"C—Could you please... remove yourself?"
It was then that Stiletto realized this heavenly feeling was the inside of her walls. Somehow, in the midst of being thrown, his hand had shimmied its way past the underside of her sundress, passing her panties and left two of his fingers lodged deep inside her.
Stiletto was utterly bewildered, but he didn't let that keep him from capitalizing on the situation. Sure, one might argue this wasn't the time to indulge his amusement, but what do they say? 'Beauty's in the eye of the beholder?'
Well, as far as he was concerned, now was an extremely beautiful opportunity.
With a mischievous grin, he slowly curled his fingers.
"I don't think I will~"
"Stop—NNgH—Stop playing around!"
Suddenly, a piercing, bloodcurdling scream rang out nearby, coming from the front of the carriage.
Without a second thought, Stiletto withdrew his fingers. The dark elf let out a subtle, involuntary groan as they both scrambled to their feet.
Syril smoothed down her sundress awkwardly, her expression blank despite the minuscule flush creeping up her neck.
Pausing to listen, Stiletto picked up on sounds outside the carriage's covering. It seemed that all of them were clustered near the front.
He quickly grabbed Syril's hand.
"Let's slip out the back and assess the situation. It sounds like they're all gathered up there."
He started pulling her toward the rear of the carriage, Syril in tow—until he felt a sudden resistance, his movement halting mid-step.
Syril stared at him, glancing down at their joined hands before giving him a puzzled look.
She wasn't used to someone looking out for her like this. She was a warrior, after all—and one of the strongest in her village, no less.
"I can fight them. Let go."
"You don't even know who attacked us. For all we know, they could be incredibly strong."
"But, I—"
Stiletto rolled his eyes and turned back around.
"Enough. Follow me."
Still confused, she let him lead her. She could have torn her hand free easily—his grip made it clear he wasn't especially strong—and confronted the ambushers herself. Yet, something in her chose to yield.
'I'm only curious to see where this weak boy leads me. That's all...'
Stepping outside, they peered around the corner—and what they saw made Stiletto's stomach turn.
A group of seven goblins were dragging a middle-aged woman across the ground. Her husband—the carriage driver—lay motionless nearby, a dagger buried deep in his throat.
It appeared she'd come along with her husband for his work that day...
How unfortunate.
As they dragged her by the legs toward the forest, she fought desperately, her nails scraping uselessly against the ground as her screams tore through the air.
They kept her alive. And for one reason only:
To use her body.
Which was evident, as one of the creatures was ripping her clothes off.
These goblins were different from the civilized ones in the du Life household. Those were higher beings, intelligent in the same way as humans, elves, and others. However, the ones before him were the lowest of the low—non-evolved creatures that were menaces to society.
Still, Stiletto wasn't foolish enough to throw his life away for a woman he'd never met. He pitied her—and her husband—but pity alone wasn't worth dying over. In the first place, he didn't even have a weapon, and he wasn't accustomed to fighting.
Maybe if she was hot he would've stuck his neck out. The honest truth.
But that wasn't the case.
He turned back to Syril, who was watching the scene just as closely.
"Okay… they're distracted. We can le—what the fuck are you doing?!"
In the middle of his sentence, Syril released her hand and stepped out from behind the overturned carriage, a dangerous glint flashing in her eyes.
Drawing in a breath deep enough to rattle her chest, she screamed—raw and commanding, the cry of a seasoned soldier.
"Hey, green fucks! You forgot someone! Isn't that your job?!"
Stiletto rubbed his face, stunned by what he was seeing.
"You better know what you're doing."
Syril scoffed.
"This won't take long. Just sit there and watch, okay?"
Instantly, a longsword materialized beside her, forming out of thin air. She reached out, wrapped her hand around the hilt, and drew it free in one smooth motion.
Impressed, Stiletto applauded.
'An inventory skill, huh...'
From all the novels he'd read, he knew abilities like that were rare. He couldn't help but want one for himself.
Her yellow eyes gleamed brighter as she raised the blade and brought it down, leveling it at the five goblins who had broken off and were now charging her.
"All of you, come at once. It makes no difference."
She settled into her stance, the orange sundress tightly hugging her low-set curves as she waited.
Stiletto was lost in her meaty ass for a moment—then he shook himself back to attention.
"H—Hey, uh... do you happen to have another weapon I could use?"
He was sure that he didn't need to fight. With {Watchful Eye}, he'd already seen that most of the goblins were Mortal rank—Syril could handle them easily.
Only two were Stage Two, like them. One of those was slightly weaker than Syril.
Just like she'd said, he could sit back and watch. But...
He didn't want to hide behind a woman.
And more than that, a surge of confidence rose in his chest.
He could absolutely take these weaklings.
All except the stronger Stage Two... that one, he'd leave to the dark elf.
A slight grin finally found its way onto the dark elven warrior's face—the first she had shown since coming to the du Life household—as she replied:
"Sure. Not that I think you'd do much with one... here."
She quickly pulled something from her inventory and tossed it to him.
He caught it on instinct, secured it, then looked down.
That slave...
Had given him a hoe.
His brow twiched.
'This bitch...'
Syril's smirk only grew as she turned back toward the fight. The first goblin charged—and she ended it in a single, effortless thrust.
'That was fast...'
Just as he began to worry it would end too quickly, two more goblins rushed Syril—one of them being the one who was nearly her equal in strength.
It appeared she struggled against two opponents at once—perhaps because she was accustomed to one-on-one duels. Still, the crazed eagerness on her face made it clear she didn't care. In her flowing outfit, she looked unhinged, reveling in the disadvantage.
And now, it was time to see if Stiletto could do the same.
The last two goblins slipped past Syril and charged straight at him.
'I guess it's time...'
Oddly enough, Stiletto wasn't the slightest bit scared.
He himself was something of an adrenaline junkie, having done countless seemingly "dangerous" stunts in his previous life on Earth as a gymnast.
But more importantly, he knew how worlds like this functioned. Stats mattered.
Only one of the two was Stage Two like him, with similar stats. The other was a Mortal—and he was confident that one wouldn't cause any trouble.
It almost felt like a game to him—which made sense, given the system—even though it was real life. That same detached feeling had given him the boldness to seduce Mya into sleeping with him, and now left him without fear in a life-or-death situation.
At least one like this, that didn't raise any real death flags.
Immediately, the stronger goblin thrust forward with his sharp claws, attempting to pierce through his abdomen.
Stiletto reacted without thinking—springing backward into a smooth back handspring that widened the gap between them. In the same motion, he pivoted, tightened his grip on the hoe, and lunged at the weaker goblin. He slammed the blade into its throat.
It died where it stood.
And his friend—or brother... who cares—didn't seem too happy about that.
Locking eyes with the enraged creature, Stiletto smirked.
"Yeah… that felt good."