CHAPTER 5: The First Strike
I moved like an amateur ninja down the sloped edge of the rock, careful to keep the swords from clanging against my sides. Every step was measured. Every breath, controlled.
One shot. That's all I'd get before the chaos broke loose.
I adjusted my grip on the sword I intended to throw, tested its weight again. My arm was sore, but not weak. I'd made a similar throw once, back when I was pretending to be someone else. A warrior. A vanquisher. Back when I had the reflexes of a player with maxed-out archery and a vendetta.
But this wasn't a game. This was real. Every inch of it.
I reached the bottom of the slope and ducked behind a broken section of wall just five paces from the prison chamber. I peeked out one last time.
The mage goblin had its back to me now, still chattering toward the prisoner, who was now sulking in the corner like the spoiled brat he clearly was. The guards stood motionless. Shields at their sides. Swords loose in their scabbards, but ready.
This was it.
I inhaled slowly, grounded my feet, and stepped out.
The sword was already in motion before I'd fully cleared the wall.
It flew end-over-end through the air, silent, clean, and merciless.
It caught the mage clean through the neck. A wet shnk echoed through the cavern as the blade punched straight through flesh and sinew. The goblin gurgled, eyes bulging as it dropped its staff and stumbled sideways, blood spurting from both sides of its throat like a severed hose.
It hit the ground convulsing.
I didn't wait.
I was already sprinting.
The first armored goblin turned toward me just in time to see the second sword coming. I plunged it forward, low, fast, and aimed for the gap just beneath the chestplate.
Clang-shk!
The blade jammed into the seam between the breastplate and groin armor, slicing through the exposed tendon of his inner thigh. The goblin howled in agony, swinging its shield blindly. I ducked low and slammed my shoulder into his midsection, toppling him backward. He hit the ground hard, his helmet clanging against the rock with a crack.
I yanked the blade free in a spray of blood and spun to face the other guard.
He was ready now, sword drawn, shield up, feet wide.
Bastard had good form, I'll give him that.
He lunged with a snarl, blade arcing toward my shoulder. I twisted to the side, the edge grazing my shirt but missing flesh. I countered with a quick horizontal slash, but it glanced off his shield with a loud clang.
Too tight. Too trained.
I backed off as he advanced, shield bashing toward me in aggressive bursts. I ducked under a swing and kicked out at his knee, but it met nothing but plate. He retaliated with a low slash, nearly catching my thigh.
I moved on instinct. No clean technique. No elegant footwork. Just years of knowing how to keep my ass alive.
My blade met his again, the screech of metal echoing in the cave. Sparks flew.
I gritted my teeth, stepped inside his guard and bit down on my fear.
This had to end.
He raised his shield for another bash.
That's when I dropped low and slammed my blade upward, right under the shield, into the exposed gap between his breastplate and arm.
It punched through flesh. He screamed.
I twisted the blade.
Hot blood sprayed my face.
He stumbled back, dropped his sword, and fell to one knee, clutching the wound with trembling fingers.
I didn't give him time to recover.
I raised the blade and brought it down across the side of his neck. The sword bit deep, cracking bone and cartilage. A second swing severed the rest.
His head hit the floor with a dull thud. His body slumped seconds after.
Silence.
Just my breathing.
And the idiot in the cage, blinking at me like I'd just stepped out of a dream.
The floor around me was soaked in blood. Goblin blood, thick and black-green, now steaming slightly in the cold air of the cave. The mage twitched once before going still completely, the blade still buried in its neck like a gruesome trophy.
I staggered back, chest rising and falling. My hands trembled. My body ached. But I was standing.
Three enemies.
Three kills.
No time for celebration.
I wiped my face with the cleanest patch of my shirt, eyes scanning the area for more movement.
Nothing.
I moved quickly, retrieving both swords, one from the mage's throat, the other slick and hot in my palm. The guard's iron sword lay nearby, much better quality than the bronze trash I'd started with. I grabbed it too.
The shield? Too heavy for speed, but I kept it in mind.
I'd survived. Somehow.
And I was just getting started.
The man in the cage was saying something, but I didn't hear it.
I was already moving past the bloodied corpses, past the cage, straight to the goblins' bodies. My breath was ragged, my shirt torn, and my arm ached like hell, but I wasn't letting that stop me. Not when I had loot to claim.
The first guard's armor was crude by Earth standards but solid. Rust-spotted steel plates, leather straps, chainmail at the joints. A real set. I dropped to one knee beside the body and started unbuckling the chestpiece.
"Hey!" the man in the cage called. "You… you're here to rescue me, right?"
I said nothing. Pulled the chestplate free. Clanked it against the stone beside me. Heavy, sure, but not too heavy. I could move in it. More weight than I was used to, but nothing my Ki-wired body couldn't handle.
"Wait… hey! You are rescuing me, right? Right?"
I kept working. Removed the greaves, the bracers. One of the vambraces had a dent where I'd struck the goblin. Useless. The other? Still good. I strapped it on.
The second guard had a better helmet, full-face, hinged visor. Slightly dented, but it would do. I slid it on, let it sit back on my head as I knelt beside his shield.
Steel. Round. Scuffed but intact. I lifted it and rolled my shoulder, testing the balance.
"Damn," I muttered. "Feels good."
"HELLO? I'm still here!" the man shouted, louder this time. "Are you even listening?"
Still nothing.
I turned back to the mage's corpse next. The staff was half-charred where it hit the floor, but the red orb still pulsed at the top… its glow faint but alive. I pried it loose with the hilt of my sword and pocketed it. That made three… two red, one blue.
Then came the weapons.
The guard swords were iron. Not the prettiest, but sharper than the bronze junk I'd been using. I checked both edges, nodded to myself, then slid them into the leather loops at my belt.
That made four swords total, two chipped bronze, two proper iron.
Weighty? Yeah. But I could manage. I wasn't running marathons in here. I just needed to survive the next corridor.
The idiot in the cage had gone quiet. Maybe finally realizing that I wasn't in any kind of hurry.
I turned to him slowly, stepping over the pooling blood with a faint squelch.
He scrambled up from the corner, eyes wide, hands gripping the bars like they were holy.
"Thank the gods… you have to let me out! My father he's… he's a powerful man. The high magistrate of…"
I raised a hand.
He stopped talking.
I stared at him. Calm. Measured.
"Why?" I asked, voice low.
His lips parted. "Wh-what?"
"Why should I let you out?"
He blinked. "I-I just told you. My father is…"
"No," I said, stepping closer. "You told him…" I nodded to the dead mage, "… and he didn't give a shit either. Why should I? You think I fought through fireballs and plate-armored goblins to be your personal savior?"
He stared at me, caught somewhere between confusion and offense.
"I don't know you," I continued. "And frankly? You sound like the kind of guy who gets people like me killed."
"I what? That's absurd. I'm offering you gold. Power. Whatever you want…"
"You're offering nothing," I cut in. "You're in a cage. You can't even offer yourself."
Silence. He looked like he'd just been slapped.
I turned away, just long enough to check the perimeter again. Still clear.
When I turned back, I stared at him through the blood-slick visor of my borrowed helmet.
"You talk a lot," I said. "But maybe you're good for something."
He frowned. "What do you mean?"
I didn't answer.
Instead, I walked over to the cage, bent down, and yanked loose the crude latch. The door creaked open, and he stepped back, eyes wide as if I was going to stab him instead of set him free.
I didn't stab him.
But I didn't say a word either.
Because in my mind, I wasn't rescuing him.
I was arming a distraction. A meat shield. A human body I could throw at the next problem if it got too close.
Because this place didn't play fair.
And I wasn't here to play nice.