If the first floor was a whisper, the second was a breath drawn in.
The kind you take before saying something you'll regret.
The light dimmed further. Sounds changed. Goblins didn't just screech here. They chattered. Like they were trying to think.
I didn't like that.
I stuck to the edges, blade in hand. Footsteps silent. Breathing lighter.
I hadn't slept since the night before. Didn't feel tired. Just present.
When you survive off instinct and tempo, the trick isn't staying strong. It's staying aware.
Three goblins. No big deal. They moved in a triangle.
The back one carried a stone. Not a blade. Not a club. A stone.
Weird.
I killed the front one first. Fast. No noise.
The others didn't charge. They fell back.
That was new.
I threw the dagger. It hit the second. The third screamed.
Louder than it needed to.
Then it ran.
Not away.
Down another hall.
And my stomach said:
That wasn't a scream.
That was a signal.
I didn't run. Not right away. Curiosity is a curse.
I followed.
Ten seconds later, I regretted it.
Six.
Six goblins.
Too many. Too close.
And behind them, something taller.
Not armored. Not huge. Just... different.
I couldn't place it.
A hobgoblin? Too early for that.
Didn't matter.
They saw me. I turned. Bolted.
Not fear. Just calculation.
But they were faster than I expected.
And I made the worst mistake you can make when running:
I looked back.
The one with the stone was on me in an instant.
I pivoted. The stone hit my shoulder. Everything sparked.
The blade dropped.
I hit the ground.
Another footstep behind me. Close.
I rolled, expecting pain.
It never came.
Instead, I wasn't there anymore.
There was no tunnel.
No monsters.
Just... white.
A blank smear.
I floated.
For a second.
Then snapped back.
Half a meter from where I'd fallen.
The goblin missed. Its club hit stone.
I scrambled up, grabbed the blade.
This time, I didn't think. I cut.
Throat. Leg. Neck.
Three dead.
The others pulled back.
Not fear.
Confusion.
I'd disappeared.
So why wasn't I dead?
I ran. Didn't stop until the corridor narrowed behind me.
My breath came in short, even bursts. My shoulder ached. My hands shook.
But I was alive.
And something had changed.
Note to self:
The phasing isn't controlled.
It reacts to danger.
It drains me.
But it works.
And that's enough.
For now.