William stood resolute in the clearing, his piercing gaze locked onto the grotesque figures slithering out from the treeline. Goblins. Dozens of them, snarling and shrieking, their jagged weapons glinting ominously in the moonlight as they tightened the circle around him.
Blood seeped steadily through his clenched fingers, where an arrow jutted cruelly from his side. Each breath was shallow and ragged, yet he refused to fall. In his other hand, he wielded a battered spear, its shaft splintered and scarred, a relic of a battle hard-fought but not yet won.
The odds were crushing, but his eyes burned with unyielding fire. Broken. Bloodied. Unbowed.
The first attack was sudden and savage. A goblin lunged from behind, bone club raised high, its guttural roar promising death.
SHNNNKT!
The sound ripped through the clearing. The goblin froze, staring down at the spearpoint buried deep in its ribs. Purple blood gushed from the wound, steaming in the cool night air. With brutal precision, William twisted the haft before wrenching it free. Flesh tore. Bone cracked. The creature crumpled into a twitching heap, lifeless before it hit the dirt.
William turned, chest heaving, bloodied spear poised toward the rest. His lips curled into a crooked sneer.
"...Well? What the hell are you waiting for, an invitation?"
The goblins shrieked in reply, their eyes alight with feral hunger.
"GRAGAAAA!"
One broke from the pack, twin blades flashing as it charged headlong, reckless with rage. Its scream pierced the night as it lunged for William's throat.
William shifted his stance, spear angling low, waiting for the exact moment when steel would meet flesh.
The clearing erupted in chaos as predator and prey collided.
CRACK!
The spear shattered in two as William used its shaft to deflect the oncoming strike. In a desperate act of precision, he seized both jagged halves and, summoning every ounce of strength, drove their sharp edges into the creature's neck. A torrent of purple, brackish blood gushed forth as the creature collapsed, its eyes frozen in a final expression of disbelief.
The twin-sword goblin shuddered once before going still. William wrenched both blades from its lifeless body, his chest heaving as his eyes locked on the encroaching circle. The short swords weighed heavy in his hands, their grips slick and worn from countless battles, but their edges remained razor-sharp, and that was all that mattered.
The horde screamed, a guttural war cry, and surged toward him.
A goblin with a cracked stone spear darted forward first. William swatted the thrust aside with his left blade and drove the other deep into its throat. Hot blood sprayed across his arm as the creature crumpled at his feet.
Another leapt at him, swinging a jagged bone club. William stepped in close, catching the weapon with one sword while plunging the other into the goblin's gut. He yanked the blade free with a savage twist, purple ichor spilling onto the dirt in a sticky pool.
No time to rest. Another goblin lunged, a crude axe aiming for his shoulder. William twisted sharply, sparks flying as the stolen steel deflected the strike. His counterattack cleaved through the goblin's collarbone, its screeching wail silenced as it fell.
They descended on him in a chaotic frenzy, their primitive weapons hammering from all directions. William's arms burned, every muscle screaming as he parried, slashed, and deflected blow after blow. His movements grew ragged, desperate yet unyielding. One sword shattered a stone blade, scattering shards in every direction. The other carved through bone, tendon, and flesh with brutal precision.
The tide of battle dragged at him, each kill sapping his strength, blood seeping from wounds he barely registered. Yet his eyes burned with fierce determination. His body staggered under the strain, but his blades never faltered.
Broken. Bloodied. Unbowed.
William spat into the dirt, his swords dripping with gore. He raised them high, his shoulders heaving with exhaustion. "Is that all you've got?" he rasped, voice raw but defiant.
The goblins shrieked in fury, tightening their circle, their crude weapons clattering ominously in the darkness.
William planted his feet, his twin blades steady despite his trembling hands, and braced himself for the next wave.
The clearing stank of iron and decay, the air thick with the tang of blood. Goblin corpses sprawled in every direction, their mangled bodies heaped around William like a grotesque monument to his defiance. Purple ichor soaked the ground, slick and treacherous beneath his boots. His breaths came in harsh, shallow gasps, each one scraping his lungs like fire, his chest rising and falling as though it might collapse under the strain.
Blood trickled steadily from his many wounds, staining his tunic and coating his arms in a crimson sheen. Each drop that fell seemed a price his battered body could ill afford to pay. His grip on the short swords wavered for the first time, the weapons feeling impossibly heavy, as though they sought to drag him down by sheer weight.
Yet still, he stood.
The goblins circled him now, their earlier screeches reduced to low, venomous whispers. For every one that had dared charge him, five more lay dead at his feet. Their crude weapons, splintered spears and broken clubs, had proved no match for the stolen steel in his hands. But victory had come at a steep cost. His legs trembled beneath him. The edges of his vision blurred and darkened, threatening to close in.
A goblin shrieked and lunged. William sluggishly raised a blade, barely managing to deflect the blow, the impact rattling through his aching frame and nearly bringing him to his knees. He countered with a clumsy slash that nonetheless tore across the creature's chest, sending it crumpling into the blood-soaked dirt.
Another darted in from his blind side. He twisted too late, the crude spear grazing his ribs and leaving a shallow, stinging line before he swatted it aside. His return strike lacked precision, but the short sword still found its mark, sinking into flesh and dropping the goblin in a choking, gurgling heap.
William swayed, the relentless pull of blood loss dragging at him like a rising tide. His arms sagged, the swords dipping, shoulders slumped. The corpse-laden mound beneath him shifted treacherously, forcing him to widen his stance to avoid toppling over.
The goblins sensed it. Their snarls grew louder, their fangs bared, their crude weapons raised high. They could smell the weakness radiating from him.
William spat a thick mouthful of blood onto the dirt, his eyes blazing fiercely despite the encroaching darkness at the edges of his vision. His body wavered, his stance faltering.
The goblins roared as one, a deafening cacophony, and surged toward him in a wave, their shadows swallowing the light of the moon.
William propelled himself off the ground, leaping backward to evade and simultaneously surprise an oncoming goblin. With precise timing, he collided into the creature's shoulder, toppling it to the ground. In one seamless motion, William rolled over the goblin's fallen body and swiftly slashed its neck, neutralizing the threat.
SHKT!
A throwing axe lodged itself into William's left shoulder, tearing through his flesh and leaving a deep, bleeding wound from its jagged blade.
Howling in pain, William seized the axe with his good arm and, mustering all his strength, hurled it back at the goblin attacker. The axe struck with a gruesome, wet impact, burying itself deeply into the goblin's skull before the force sent it flying backwards.
William had no time to appreciate his kill, however, as two more goblins closed in from either side, one holding a deadly spear and the other a pair of spiked clubs.
The reek of blood and death clung to William, suffocating and thick as smoke in his lungs. His boots sank deeper into the grotesque mound of corpses, goblin bodies heaped high as though sacrificed to some malevolent deity. Each breath came unsteadily, the world teetering around him, his muscles screaming in agony, his wounds draining what little strength he had left. The short swords that once danced in his hands like extensions of his will now dragged like leaden weights, their blades slick with purple ichor.
Yet, he fought on.
A goblin with a spear darted forward, its piercing cry cutting through the chaos. William stumbled to the side, his right blade coming up just in time to deflect the strike. The parry sent tremors racing down his arm, nearly wrenching the sword from his grasp. With a guttural growl, he countered, his left sword carving upward in a brutal arc that tore through the goblin's belly. It screamed, its entrails spilling out in a glistening black tangle before its body toppled backward into the pile.
The triumph was fleeting. William's arms drooped, heavy and unresponsive, his lungs rasping with every labored breath.
Then came the second goblin, wielding jagged spiked clubs. It charged with feral glee, one club slamming into William's ribs. The spikes tore through fabric and flesh with a sickening crunch, sending a searing explosion of pain through his body. He roared, swinging wildly in retaliation. His blade bit deep into the goblin's shoulder, but the strike lacked force. The creature sneered, its jagged teeth glinting as it pressed the attack, its second club crashing into William's thigh.
His leg gave out beneath him. He crumpled to one knee atop the slippery, blood-soaked mound of bodies. Pain wracked his frame, but worse was the hollow numbness creeping through his leg, a chilling realization that he would not rise again.
With a feral snarl, William wrenched his sword free from the goblin's corpse and drove it upward into its jaw. Bone shattered, and a spray of viscous purple blood splattered across his face as the creature convulsed violently before crumpling lifeless to the ground. He yanked the blade loose, swaying unsteadily but forcing himself upright by sheer determination, raising his weapons once more.
The ring of goblins pressed closer, their fear fading.
They were no longer afraid.
William spat a mouthful of blood into the dirt, his head spinning. His hands slipped on the slick hilts, the blades in his grasp trembling as they dipped dangerously low. Every ragged breath he drew fanned the inferno of pain from the arrow embedded in his side, a searing agony that seemed to consume him from within. These wounds were no longer just slowing him down; they were devouring him.
One of the goblins darted forward. William tried to lift his blade, but he was too slow. The jagged edge of the goblin's weapon ripped across his forearm, and crimson sprayed forth. He bellowed in agony, stumbling backward and nearly toppling over the heap of corpses beneath him. Desperation fueled his counterattack, and his remaining blade split the creature's skull with a sickening crunch. But the cost was heavy; his right arm hung useless at his side, refusing to obey.
His heart pounded like a war drum, and his vision narrowed into a dark tunnel.
The horde roared as one, their confidence swelling. They could sense his vulnerability.
Another goblin lunged, wielding a crude axe. William barely managed to deflect the blow with his left blade, the impact reverberating through his exhausted frame, threatening to pry the weapon from his grip. Summoning his last reserves of strength, he drove the tip of his sword into the goblin's throat. The creature collapsed in a choking, gurgling heap, clawing frantically at its mortal wound.
William staggered, his legs heavy as lead.
A goblin lunged at him from the side, its rusted dagger plunging into his shoulder. He let out a raw, guttural scream, a sound born of pain and fury. His body twisted violently, and with one last desperate effort, he drove his short sword upward, tearing through the goblin's ribcage. The victory was fleeting; his left arm quivered uncontrollably before falling limp. Both weapons slipped from his grasp, clattering onto the heap of bodies beneath him.
He was defenseless.
The goblins shrieked in triumph, their howls piercing the night air.
William strained to move, to grab a sword, but his arms refused to obey. They hung limp and useless, trembling faintly at his sides. His knees buckled, sending him collapsing atop the pile of the slain. Gasping for breath, his chest heaved as blood poured freely from his lips. His body had reached its limit.
But his spirit burned on. His eyes blazed with defiance, unyielding, even as his body betrayed him.
"Come on…" he rasped, his voice hoarse and broken. "…Come on, then…"
The goblins surged forward without hesitation.
The first spear drove through his thigh, a guttural scream ripping from him as it pinned him to the mound. Another attacker swung a jagged axe, splitting his shoulder apart and spraying blood across the corpses beneath him. Clubs smashed into his chest, his ribs groaning under the relentless assault, his lungs ablaze with fire.
He struggled to fight back, to lift an arm, a fist, anything. But his body refused to obey.
They descended upon him like a frenzy of starving wolves. Blades pierced his sides, clubs shattered his bones, and crude axes hacked into his flesh. He screamed until his voice broke, leaving only a raw rasp, as his blood poured out in torrents, soaking into the mound of goblins he had felled.
The pain dulled, fading into a distant thrum. His vision blurred.
The last thing he saw was a circle of snarling faces, jagged fangs glinting with blood and moonlight, and the sensation of his body being ripped apart by brutal steel.
Then... nothing.
—
Darkness.
William jolted awake, gasping for air, his hands clutching at his chest where the wounds should have been. His body was intact. His arms trembled uncontrollably, but they were unbroken. No arrow protruded from his side. No blood stained his tunic. His lungs burned, but they filled with air.
He was no longer on the corpse mound.
He was no longer in the goblin clearing.
He was back in his bedroom, dimly illuminated by the faint glow of his computer monitor. His sheets clung to his sweat-soaked skin as ragged breaths tore from him. His mind reeled, haunted by the phantom agony of his death. He could still feel the tearing blades, the crushing clubs, the fire coursing through his veins.
Then he noticed it.
In the corner of his vision, faintly glowing, a prompt appeared and flickered into existence.
[Level Up]