Becoming the Strongest as a Game Dev

Sam examines the goblins he has slain, their bodies lying motionless on the forest floor. He retrieves his phone and snaps a few photos, ensuring he has the necessary proof to submit his mission report.

Sam moves through the forest, leaping from branch to branch with feline grace. His eyes scan the area, alert for any sign of danger. Reaching a high vantage point, he pauses, taking in the serene landscape. The sun filters through the canopy, casting a warm glow over the mossy ground below. Sam crouches, his cape billowing softly as he plans his next move. Focusing his senses, he detects no immediate threats, allowing him to continue his stealthy trek through the verdant foliage.

Sam spots some wolf tracks and slowly heads towards them. The paw prints in the soft earth are fresh, indicating the wolves are nearby. He treads carefully, placing each step with precision to avoid making a sound. His eyes dart from side to side, searching for any movement or signs of the pack.

Sam crouches on the branch, his eyes narrowing as he observes the pack of wolves below. They're larger than any ordinary wolves he's seen, with coarse fur and unnaturally fluid movements. What really catches his attention, though, are the strange gems embedded in their foreheads, glimmering with an otherworldly light.

Gripping the branch tightly, Sam holds his breath, hoping the wolves won't detect him.

Carefully, he shifts his weight, keeping his movements deliberate and silent. He scans the area, looking for any escape routes or high ground he can use to his advantage. The wolves continue roaming, seemingly unaware of the hunter in their midst.

Sam takes out several stink bombs from his utility belt, the glass vials filled with a pungent, noxious liquid. Gripping his rifle tightly, he aims it at the pack of wolves below, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

With a deep breath, Sam hurls the stink bombs down towards the wolves, the glass shattering on impact and releasing a cloud of foul-smelling gas. The wolves let out howls of distress, their sensitive noses overwhelmed by the stench.

Seizing the opportunity, Sam opens fire, the rifle's report echoing through the forest. Bullets rip through the wolves' thick fur, some of them collapsing to the ground, while others attempt to flee the assault.

One wolf, however, leaps from tree to tree, its movements agile and unpredictable. Sam's eyes widen as the beast closes in on him, its jaws snapping viciously. Reacting quickly, he raises his grapnel gun and fires, the hook catching on a higher branch. He yanks the trigger, propelling himself away from the wolf's reach just in time.

Landing on another tree, Sam quickly draws his pistol, takes aim, and squeezes the trigger, the bullet striking the wolf square in the head. The beast tumbles from the branch, its lifeless body crashing to the forest floor below.

Sam's heart races as more wolves emerge from the foliage, their movements blurring with unnatural speed. He grits his teeth, realizing they must be augmenting their abilities with magic.

Sam unleashes a volley of Batarangs, the sharp projectiles slicing through the air. Several wolves howl in pain as the Batarangs find their marks, but the rest continue their relentless advance.

"Persisten bastards," Sam mutters, holstering his rifle and drawing his electrified sword. He braces himself as the wolves close in, their claws glinting in the dappled sunlight.

With lightning-fast reflexes, Sam slashes and stabs, the electricity crackling along the blade as it connects with the beasts' thick fur. The wolves yelp and recoil, but their sheer numbers overwhelm him, forcing Sam to retreat.

Reaching into his utility belt, Sam retrieves a handful of smoke bombs and tosses them to the ground. A thick, obscuring cloud envelops the area, giving him a brief respite.

Sam uses the grapnel gun to get to a higher vantage point. From above, he lobs a few concussion grenades, the explosions disorienting the wolves and scattering them.

But the respite is short-lived, as the wolves quickly recover and resume their relentless assault. One of the beasts, its eyes glowing with an eerie light, leaps towards Sam, its claws outstretched.

Bracing himself, Sam raises his sword, the electricity arcing across the blade. The wolf's claws clash against the electrified steel, and Sam grits his teeth as the impact reverberates through his arm.

Pushing back, Sam slashes and parries, his movements fluid and precise. The wolf's attacks become more frenzied, but Sam remains calm, focusing on his footwork and timing.

Sensing an opening, Sam lunges forward, driving his sword deep into the wolf's side. The beast howls in pain, but its claws still manage to rake across Sam's leg, the armor barely holding against the savage strike.

Sam staggers back, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The wound isn't deep, but the adrenaline coursing through him is starting to wane. He knows he can't keep this up much longer.

Sam hurled explosive bombs from his utility belt, the concussive blasts sending the wolves reeling. He quickly followed up with a flurry of shots from his pistols, the bullets tearing through their thick fur.

The pack's leader, a larger wolf with glowing eyes, managed to evade the barrage. It crept stealthily behind Sam, its movements unnaturally fluid. In one swift motion, the beast sank its fangs into Sam's right shoulder, eliciting a pained scream.

Sam quickly stifled the sound, gritting his teeth against the searing agony. Thinking fast, he grabbed a Batarang from his belt and with a quick, decisive motion, stabbed the leader in the head. The wolf's jaws went slack, and it collapsed to the ground, twitching.

Breathing heavily, Sam glanced around, ready to face the remaining wolves. But to his surprise, the pack had scattered, their howls fading into the distance. He reached up to his wounded shoulder, hissing in pain as he inspected the damage.

The bite had pierced through his armor, and blood seeped from the deep puncture wounds. Sam knew he needed to treat the injury quickly before infection set in.

Sam retrieved a healing potion from his backpack and quickly drank it. His wounds visibly healed, much to his relief. The puncture marks on his shoulder closed up, and the gash on his leg knitted back together. He let out a sigh, feeling the adrenaline leaving his body.

Sam crouches beside the fallen wolves, carefully examining the glowing gems embedded in their foreheads. He runs his fingers over the smooth, iridescent surfaces, marveling at their otherworldly power. Glancing around to ensure he's alone, Sam gently pries the gems free, slipping them into a secure pouch on his utility belt. He knows these rare artifacts could fetch a decent price on the black market.

Satisfied with his haul, Sam rises to his feet, dusting off his knees. He retrieves his phone and snaps a few quick photos of the slain wolves, ensuring he has the necessary proof to submit his mission report. With a final sweep of the area, Sam turns his attention to the next part of his task - hunting down the goblins.

Sam double-checks his equipment, running his fingers along the familiar grooves of his rifle and the reassuring weight of his electrified sword. He takes a deep breath, feeling the adrenaline coursing through his veins. Steeling his nerves, Sam heads deeper into the forest, his senses on high alert for any sign of the troublesome goblins.

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Advance chapters in my P@|r$0n/Najicablitz