Final Life Online

"Puddle, ready for the battle?" I asked.

As always, he gave a happy little nod.

"Pity… if it weren't for the level cap at 10, we'd have easily soared past 30 by now with the amount of EXP we've accumulated," I said, watching him jiggle in agreement.

"Anyway, stay sharp. This time, it's no longer sneak attacks or ambushes. We're heading into a real battle—just the two of us, against a tribe of over 200 goblins. That includes at least one Hobgoblin Warrior and a Hobgoblin Shaman."

Puddle's core pulsed a shade deeper. A solemn nod followed.

"Good," I muttered, then opened the status screen once more.

Tamed Beast: Puddle

Type: Ancient Black King of White Rivers

Level: 10 (Capped)

Rarity: Rare (Ancient)

Elemental Affinities: Water, Light, Dark

Stats:

Health: 5090

Mana: 13090

Attack Power: 890

Defense: 1090

Speed: 790

Skills:

[Passive] Absorb

[Light] Light Bullets, Light Shield

[Dark] Shadow Tendrils, Dark Mist

[Water] Water Jet, Aqua Veil

No new skills had unlocked despite the level gain—clearly a side effect of the artificial cap. But it didn't matter. Even with just the basics, Puddle was already a miniature catastrophe in motion.

What did matter, however, was his stat growth.

Compared to when he was only Level 1, every single stat had increased by exactly 10 points per level—consistent, linear, and powerful. That meant, at Level 10, he had gained a staggering +90 to every stat across the board.

For a tamed beast? That was absurd.

Compared to normal Rare-class monsters, who gained maybe 5 points per stat per level, this was five times the norm. No wonder Ancient creatures are so powerful, whenever they appeared in book.

As expected of an Ancient.

Of course, the cost matched the power. The EXP required per level was astronomical. Just leveling him up to 10 had cost nearly as much EXP as it would take one to reach Level 30.

A clear balancing act—but barely.

And honestly? Worth it.

There were hardly any Ancient Creatures in the game, especially not in the starting zones. Even if someone got lucky, they wouldn't just tame one. You'd need an Advanced Tamer class at minimum—and even then, it was more luck than skill.

I had bypassed that.

Puddle was born an Ancient.

A result of unique hatching conditions, perfect affinity fusion, and mostly my Knowledge that lead to birth of him.

Shaking my head free of those thoughts, I turned my gaze toward the misty treeline ahead.

The Goblin Tribe's territory was close. I'd seen the smoke signals. I could already hear the distant drumbeats of their scouts preparing for another war march.

I adjusted my grip on my sword.

Puddle jiggled confidently on my shoulder, fully rested and humming with mana.

"Let's give these goblins something to fear."

***

The first goblin scout died without making a sound.

One quick Swift Cut to the throat—clean, fast, efficient. The creature didn't even realize it had been spotted before its body slumped into the undergrowth, lifeless.

Puddle dissolved the corpse in seconds.

Kyuu~, he chirped softly, the glow of his form barely visible beneath the dense canopy. His body shimmered in shadow and light both, effortlessly adapting to the terrain. His passive Absorb worked quietly, siphoning mana from the slain goblin's lingering presence.

We were deep within goblin territory now.

The underbrush grew thicker, but the air was sharp with movement. I could feel it—eyes in the shadows, shapes shifting just out of view. Their scouts were clever: hiding in trees, using animal calls, crawling through the moss to avoid detection.

But clever wasn't enough.

Their positions weren't unpredictable—they were patterned. Standard patrol formations. I'd seen this kind of setup before. Spread across a circular perimeter, intervals every thirty meters, overlapping fields of view. Probably trained to stay silent and vanish the moment they sense a threat.

But Puddle and I were quieter.

I spotted the next one crouched behind a fallen log, bowstring drawn. Before he could even fully draw his breath, I whispered:

"Light Bullet."

Five radiant projectiles shimmered into existence and streaked through the undergrowth like guided knives. They struck all at once—head, neck, chest, ribs, and heart. The goblin jerked violently, then dropped with a muffled thud.

[Goblin Scout Defeated – EXP Gained]

Puddle slithered forward with practiced ease, stretching out a shadowy tendril to pull the body into the brush. No blood trail. No noise. Nothing left.

We moved deeper.

Every few steps, another scout. One buried beneath leaves. One nestled high in a tree, breathing so softly he might as well have been stone. Another hiding in a hollow stump, dagger in hand.

It didn't matter.

They all died before they could act. And Puddle made sure they were never found.

In just under ten minutes, twelve scouts were gone. Erased.

No alarms. No warning signals. Not even a scream.

I crouched behind a moss-covered tree and narrowed my eyes ahead. "This area's thinning out," I whispered. "We must be close to the outer camp."

Puddle let out a low hum—kyuuu...—his core pulsing with accumulated energy. He was more than ready.

I paused, scanning the woods again.

No sounds of shifting patrols. No rustling foliage.

Just silence.

"Perfect," I muttered.

The scout ring was broken. Their watchful eyes snuffed out one by one. Their invisible defense net—shredded.

The Goblin camp didn't even realize the door had just opened.

"Okay, Puddle… from now on, it's full-scale battle," I said calmly, my voice low but firm.

He let out a sharp kyuu!, vibrating with excitement, and perched himself higher on my shoulder, his form faintly glowing from the mana he had absorbed.

We crept to the edge of the clearing, using the dense foliage for cover.

The camp spread out before us like a chaotic sprawl of tents, wooden stakes, and bonfires. Crude banners hung limply from broken poles, and scattered goblins milled about, most of them hunched over pieces of raw meat or half-cooked scavenged meals. Their armor was mismatched, their weapons blunt—but there were many of them.