SSS Awakening: I Can Create Skills By Will-Chapter 68: Predator in the Dark II

Arthur exhaled slowly and mapped the entire camp in his head. Patrol paths, blind spots, movement patterns, escape routes. He imagined where he would step, where he would strike, and where he would disappear.

Only when everything felt clear did he move.

"Alright," he whispered. "Let’s begin."

He slipped forward like a shadow.

Intent Step.

His figure blurred, appearing behind a broken structure at the edge of the camp. He landed without sound, already sensing the distortions around him.

Two goblin warriors stood nearby, talking in rough guttural sounds.

Arthur didn’t hesitate.

A flash of movement.

A clean slash.

Shk.

Both collapsed before their voices could rise.

He dragged the bodies aside quickly and moved on.

His plan had begun.

Unlike the first camp, this one was structured. There were clear zones, patrol units, and centralized positions. The goblins moved with strange order, almost like trained soldiers guarding territory.

Arthur followed the routes he had mapped earlier, taking paths that kept him away from dense distortions. Whenever a patrol came too close, he slipped away with Intent Step. Whenever a gap opened, he closed in instantly.

His new skill guided him.

He could feel where attention gathered, where awareness shifted, where danger formed.

It was like walking through threads only he could see.

And he used them perfectly.

A goblin spearman turned a corner.

Arthur was already behind him.

Crk.

Neck snapped.

As he caught the falling body and placed it down gently.

No sound.

No alert.

Then he moved again.

"I could make it this way," he muttered, almost amused.

There was a quiet joy in his voice.

This was control.

This was efficiency.

He flowed from one kill to another without slowing down, his movements smooth, his timing precise. Each strike landed exactly where he intended.

Goblins disappeared one by one.

A patrol group vanished.

A lone archer dropped from his post.

A caster collapsed before finishing a chant.

The camp slowly lost pieces of itself without realizing.

But as he moved deeper, Arthur began to notice something.

There were more goblins than expected.

Not just warriors and spearmen, but archers positioned in layers, casters grouped near the center, and several rare variants moving as guards.

Their formations were coordinated.

Their responses were fast.

For creatures ranked this low, the organization felt unnatural.

Arthur frowned slightly.

"The dungeon again..."

Questions rose in his mind. Why were they so structured? Why did they act with such order? What was changing beneath the surface?

But he pushed the thoughts away.

Thinking too much meant losing focus.

And right now, survival came first.

He continued.

But stealth never stayed perfect.

Once, a goblin turned earlier than expected.

Another time, a patrol changed direction suddenly.

It was not carelessness. Just bad timing.

A blade flashed. And a body fell harder than intended.

Thud.

A nearby goblin noticed.

A harsh screech rang out. 𝘧𝑟𝑒𝑒𝘸𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝓁.𝘤𝘰𝓂

Arthur clicked his tongue.

"Tch."

He handled the witness instantly, but the silence had already cracked. Movement began to shift across the camp.

He could still hide.

But only for a while.

And the explorers were getting closer.

Arthur rolled his shoulders slightly.

"Well then," he said quietly, "let’s spice things up."

The moment the surrounding goblins tried to close in on him, Arthur stopped holding back.

Manifest Intent surged outward.

A powerful pressure burst from him like an invisible wave.

The charging goblins staggered as their momentum collapsed. Their formation broke instantly, bodies stumbling into one another.

Arthur moved at the same instant.

Intent Step.

He appeared between two goblins.

Execution Intent.

Two clean arcs of his blade.

Shkk!

Heads rolled across the ground.

Blood burst outward, yet Arthur was already gone before a drop touched him.

He moved again.

Always moving.

Always ahead.

Arrows whistled through the air.

Fwip! Fwip!

He twisted sideways, letting them pass. A step forward, a turn, another shift of position, and the arrows struck goblins behind him instead.

Confusion spread.

Casters began chanting, hands glowing with crude mana.

Arthur dashed forward.

Intent Weave distorted their movement, slowing their reactions and ruining their timing. Their spells collapsed midway, energy scattering wildly.

He appeared behind one caster.

The goblin barely turned before Arthur’s blade pierced its throat.

A quick twist.

Ghk.

The body dropped.

As Arthur kicked it aside and vanished again.

The camp descended into chaos.

Goblins shouted. Formations collapsed. Orders turned into panicked noise.

Arthur moved through them like a storm.

He scattered groups with Manifest Intent, cut them down with Execution Intent, and repositioned endlessly with Intent Step. His movements linked together without pause, each skill flowing naturally into the next.

A perfect rhythm.

A perfect hunt.

System notifications flashed repeatedly in his vision.

Intent points gained.

Rewards confirmed.

He brushed them aside without reading.

There was no time.

There was only the fight.

More goblins poured in from deeper within the camp, drawn by the noise.

But the more they came, the faster Arthur moved.

A strange excitement filled him.

The thrill of the hunt. And the satisfaction of growth.

The steady rise of Intent point with every kill.

He laughed softly.

"Come then."

To any observer, the scene would have looked absurd. One human surrounded by monsters, yet the monsters were the ones retreating in fear.

Arthur’s movements were relentless.

Unpredictable. Terrifying.

To the goblins, he wasn’t prey.

He was death.

A goblin warrior lunged with a heavy axe.

And Arthur sidestepped and drove his blade upward.

Shk.

Another tried to tackle him from behind.

Intent Step.

Arthur reappeared behind it instead, slicing cleanly through its spine.

Archers aimed together.

He rushed straight toward them, weaving through their shots, forcing them to strike each other as panic broke their coordination.

The battlefield became his domain.

His stage.

Bodies piled across the ground.

Blood soaked the dirt.

The remaining goblins hesitated, their instincts screaming at them to flee.

Arthur stood among them, breathing steadily, his dagger dripping red. His clothes were stained, his presence heavy, his eyes calm.

An aura of overwhelming pressure surrounded him.

Predator.

Sovereign.

Executioner.

He stepped forward. And the goblins stepped back instead.