Ryder moved.
Too fast.
His body cut through the cave like a living afterimage, his glowing eyes dragging a red line through the air, the way a burning stick leaves a trail when swung hard enough. The line lingered for a heartbeat—then vanished.
"HAAAAAARGH!!!"
He charged.
The first goblin barely had time to react before Ryder's blade tore through it. He didn't block anymore. Blocking was useless. His shadow-forged weapons cracked under brute force.
So he adapted.
He deflected.
A club came down—he twisted his wrist, slid the blow aside, stepped in, and cut. Another attack followed—he ducked, redirected, stabbed upward.
His movements sharpened.
Cleaner.
Faster.
More instinctive.
Each kill made his limbs lighter. His muscles responded faster than his thoughts. His breathing steadied even as blood splashed across the cave floor.
Behind him, his three goblin allies fought.
Wildly.
Their swings were clumsy, predictable—no technique, no coordination. Ryder adjusted without thinking, flowing around them, filling the gaps they left open, correcting their mistakes as if his body had already learned how to survive in this hell.
Then—
Something was wrong.
The attacks stopped.
Not one. Not two.
All of them.
The goblins ahead began to retreat. Slowly. Carefully. They didn't turn their backs—they backed away, eyes fixed forward. The mass of bodies split apart, peeling left and right, forming a wide, unnatural path straight through the cave.
Silence fell.
Ryder turned sharply toward his allies, breath heavy.
"Hey!" he snapped. "What's going on?! Did they give u—"
SHREKKK.
The sound ripped through him.
Wet.
Violent.
Final.
Ryder's vision exploded red.
Pain detonated in his chest like fire and iron colliding inside his body. His mouth opened, but no scream came—only a violent gush of blood spilling down his chin.
His body leaned backward.
But he didn't fall.
His legs went slack, useless, yet something held him upright.
He gagged, coughing, choking—his lungs screamed for air but couldn't draw it in. His arms trembled, fingers twitching uselessly as his vision shook.
Move.
Move—!
He was forced to look down.
A long spear of living flame had punched straight through his chest.
It burned.
Not just heat—searing, eating pain, like his insides were being erased. The spear was driven so deep into the ground behind him that it pinned him upright, his body hanging there, knees barely touching the stone floor.
Blood dripped.
His blood.
Heavy footsteps echoed from the darkness beyond the path.
Thud.
The cave trembled.
Thud.
Dust fell from the ceiling.
Thud.
Something big was coming.
From deeper in the cave, a massive silhouette emerged.
A giant goblin stepped into the dim light.
Its body was thick with muscle, packed tight like coiled iron. Red pulsing cracks burned across its skin, far brighter than the others—no longer dim veins, but blazing fractures that throbbed like a furious heartbeat.
Tusks curved from its mouth.
Around its neck hung a necklace made of skulls and jagged, oversized teeth, clacking softly with every step.
Reality around it distorted.
Glitched.
A tag forced itself into Ryder's fading vision.
Goblin Chief
Level 3
Strength: 97
Speed: 6
Agility: 87
Magic Power: 11
Intelligence: 30
Ryder's breath hitched.
His mind went blank.
No…
No, no, no—
There was no chance.
Not even a fraction.
A tear slid down his cheek—not rage, not despair.
Frustration.
So this is it?
His sister.
His mother.
And now him.
All gone.
For rules.
For a system.
For nothing.
What did they ever do wrong?
Is this really how I die…?
His lips trembled.
I'm pathetic.
I couldn't avenge any of you.
I couldn't protect anyone.
I couldn't change anything.
I'm… so goddamn weak.
I—am… sorry…
His pupils began to lose focus, the world blurring at the edges.
The flaming spear suddenly evaporated into drifting ash.
Ryder's body dropped—
—but not fully.
He collapsed forward into a kneeling position, head bowed, blood soaking the ground beneath him.
Frozen.
As if the world itself had forced him to kneel before it.
The Goblin Chief shifted.
Its massive head turned away from Ryder's kneeling body and locked onto the three green-cracked goblins behind him.
For a moment, there was silence.
Then the chief roared.
The sound wasn't just loud—it was crushing.
A primal bellow that tore through the cave, rattling stone, shaking bones, sending loose debris raining from above. The air itself seemed to recoil.
The three goblins flinched.
Their bodies trembled as they turned their heads—one last time—toward Ryder.
Toward the human who had stood with them.
Toward the one who had changed them.
They bowed their heads.
Slowly.
Respectfully.
Then—
Two of them straightened.
The green glow in their cracks flickered.
Dimmed.
And then—
Snuffed out.
The veins across their bodies burned red once more, pulsing harshly, violently, as if something had reclaimed them. Their eyes followed—green fading into blood-red obedience.
They turned their backs on Ryder.
But—
One goblin did not move.
Its body trembled harder than the others.
The green cracks across its skin remained, glowing faintly but stubbornly, like embers refusing to die. Its eyes stayed green.
Its fingers tightened around the wooden club in its hands until the wood creaked.
The Goblin Chief noticed.
Its glowing eyes shifted, settling on the lone goblin that had not reverted.
The cave went still.
For a long moment, the chief stared at it.
Then—
It snorted.
Turned away.
And began to walk deeper into the cave, its heavy footsteps echoing with finality.
That was the judgment.
Behind it, the remaining goblins reacted.
Fifty-one pairs of red eyes snapped toward the lone green one.
Low snarls spread through the crowd, building, layering—teeth bared, saliva dripping, claws scraping against stone.
The circle tightened.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
They weren't rushing.
They were savoring it.
The traitor stood alone.
Green light flickering weakly against an ocean of red.
It lowered its stance.
Raised its club.
And waited.
Ryder jolted awake.
Soft light filtered through his eyelids, warm and gentle—nothing like the suffocating darkness of the cave. When he opened his eyes, his breath caught.
It was… beautiful.
Endless greenery stretched as far as he could see. Rolling hills carpeted in lush grass, towering trees swaying lazily in a wind that carried the scent of life itself. No buildings. No ruins. No blood. Just nature—pure and untouched.
Paradise.
Ryder slowly pushed himself up.
"…Where… am I?"
His voice sounded distant, as if the world itself were muffling him.
Memories rushed back in fragments—steel, fire, pain—
His eyes snapped down.
His hand trembled as he pressed against his chest.
Nothing.
No wound. No hole. No pain.
"…The spear."
A chill crawled up his spine.
Am I… dead?
His gaze lifted—and froze.
Atop a gentle hill ahead stood two figures, hands clasped together. Their backs were turned to him, silhouettes framed by the golden light.
His heart skipped.
"…Lizzy?"
His breath hitched.
"…Mom?"
Recognition struck like lightning.
Joy burst from his chest, raw and uncontrollable. Tears welled instantly as Ryder broke into a run.
"Lizzy! Mom!"
His feet pounded against the grass as laughter threatened to spill from his throat. He hadn't felt this light in so long. His chest hurt—not from pain, but relief.
I found you… I finally—
Then—
Something felt wrong.
His steps slowed.
The color beneath his feet changed.
The vibrant green faded into a deep, sickening red—like blood soaking endlessly into the earth.
Ryder stopped.
His breath came shallow.
"…No…"
Dread wrapped around his heart as he forced himself forward, circling around them.
And then—
His smile shattered.
His legs gave out completely, collapsing beneath him.
Lizzy and Catherine faced him now.
Their skin was pale—lifeless. Their eyes were bloodshot, glassy, empty.
And centered perfectly on both their foreheads—
Bullet holes.
Ryder crawled backward in horror, his palms scraping against the crimson grass. His mouth opened wide as he tried to scream.
Nothing came out.
No sound. No voice. Only silence.
Then—
Catherine's eyes moved.
They locked onto him.
The world went black.
Gunshots.
Lizzy's body falling.
Catherine reaching out.
Blood.
Screams.
Sirens.
The system.
Failure.
Weakness.
—
The Goblin Chief halted mid-step.
The cave trembled.
A dark shockwave surged outward, rattling stone and bone alike.
The chief slowly turned.
Behind it—
Ryder stood.
Barely.
His posture was wrong—unnatural. His body swayed slightly, as if suspended by invisible strings. His jaw hung open, slack.
His eyes—
Pure white.
No pupils.
No reflection.
No humanity.
Then—
A sound tore free from his throat.
A wail.
Not a scream. Not a cry.
It was fear, rage, grief, and despair fused into something inhuman—something that scraped against the soul.
Black mist poured from his mouth.
From his skin.
From every pore—like shadows exhaling from his body.
The darkness thickened, writhing like a living thing.
And then—
From the shadows beside him, six massive, spider-like legs formed, solidifying from pure darkness.
They slammed into the ground.
One by one.
Lifting Ryder's limp body off the cave floor.
Suspended.