[Dungeon, Floor 5]
The dungeon air greets me with that familiar scent...
wet earth, humid air, and a hint of that metallic smell of blood from monsters that died earlier.
My footsteps echo through the cave corridor I know like the back of my hand, reminding me why this place is so much more honest than Orario with all its masks and lies.
Here, monsters don't pretend to be friendly then stab you in the back.
Here, there's only one currency that matters...
strength!!
Simple.
Easy to understand.
My steps feel lighter today.
My body feels... energized.
Like a machine that just got tuned up, every muscle working with an efficiency I've never felt before.
So why didn't I update my status to see if my strength really increased?
I shake my head, dismissing the unnecessary thoughts.
My focus right now is facing Gob.
'Hopefully he's not too pissed that I disappeared.'
I head to our usual meeting spot, a pretty spacious room with high ceilings. The bluish light from dungeon crystals provides illumination that creates sharp shadows on the stone walls.
The air here feels colder than usual.
There's something different in the atmosphere.
Tense.
Looking ahead...
Gob's already waiting for me there.
He's standing with arms crossed over his chest, one foot tapping against the ground in an impatient rhythm.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The sound of his sole hitting the ground creates a disturbing beat in the silent space.
His expression...
angry.
Really angry!!
Not just regular angry. This is "I'm gonna kill you with my bare hands" level angry. His eyes, usually calm and controlled, are now blazing like coals ready to burn anything in sight.
This is the first time I've ever seen him this furious.
During all the time we've spent training together, he's always been calm.
Focused.
In control.
Like a patient instructor teaching a stupid student.
But now...
Now he's looking at me like I'm a traitor.
'Maybe he's mad because I disappeared without explanation.'
'Or maybe he thinks I ran away because I was scared.'
Walking closer to him, I prepare some apologetic words.
I open my mouth, about to explain why I didn't come.
While using the dance of death language.
I mean, body language for communication.
"Gob, sorry I—"
Without warning, he charges.
Huh?
No warning.
No opening gesture.
No preparatory stance.
Just an explosive movement that cuts the five-meter distance between us in less than 1 second.
Reflexes save me.
My hand jerks to my weapon with a motion that's become muscle memory.
Spear and short sword drawn in one fluid motion, my body automatically taking the defensive stance I usually use.
Unfortunately...
Useless!
The first punch comes from a direction I never expected.
He slips into my blind spot easily, like he's already memorized every one of my defensive movements. His body moves with stunning fluidity, flowing like water around my defenses.
My [Survival Instinct] skill immediately screams deafeningly in my head:
DANGER FROM THE LEFT! NOW!
I try to parry with my spear shaft, but his punch already flows to a different trajectory before my weapon gets there.
DANGER FROM THE RIGHT! BACK OFF!
His elbow appears out of nowhere, hitting my left ribs with perfect precision.
Pain explodes like lightning, spreading from the point of impact through my whole body. I feel air get forced out of my lungs.
"Gah!"
I force myself to spin, trying to create distance with a backswing of my spear.
Too late.
BACK OFF! BACK OFF NOW!
I retreat desperately, but he's already there.
Like he knows where I'm going to move before I know it myself. Every step back I take gets anticipated, every attempt to create space gets cut off immediately.
"What the hell is this!..." I mutter while staring at Gob with a shocked expression.
My sweat starts pouring even though the fight's only been going for a few seconds.
This is different.
Very different from our previous sparring sessions.
Gob's always been strong, always superior, but usually he'd give me room to learn.
He'd attack at a level slightly above my ability, forcing me to grow without actually destroying me.
This time?
This time he means to kill me.
There's rage in every movement.
Rage that makes him move faster, hit harder, not giving me a chance to breathe.
Or... did he get stronger while I was gone?
How long was I in jail? Four days? Five days?
Did he keep training alone during that time?
Punch after punch keeps landing.
I try to keep up with my spear, using the reach advantage to create distance.
But it's useless.
He gets inside my range easily, making my long weapon ineffective.
I slash horizontally with my short sword in a desperation move.
He ducks under it with perfect timing, then rises with an uppercut that feels like a sledgehammer hitting my chin.
CRACK.
I feel my jawbone vibrate.
The metallic taste of blood immediately fills my mouth, my tongue feeling like it got hit hard.
My vision goes fuzzy for a moment.
DANGER! DANGER! BACK OFF NOW!
My [Survival Instinct] skill screams like a madman, but my body can't keep up with the warnings it's giving.
Too slow.
Too... scared.
Yeah, scared.
Even though I try to deny it, some deep part of me is still afraid of pain.
Still flinches every time a punch comes close.
Still hesitates every time I need to take a risk.
I keep getting pushed back.
The weapons in my hands feel heavy and slow compared to Gob's movements that flow like mercury. Every spear swing feels clumsy. Every short sword slash gets easily anticipated.
He's toying with me.
Like a cat playing with an already wounded mouse.
The final blow comes horizontal to my wrist holding the spear.
The impact is so precise, hitting the nerve center that makes my fingers go limp immediately.
The spear slips from my grip, spinning in the air with dramatic slow-motion before clanging loudly on the stone floor.
The short sword follows seconds later when his hook hits my left wrist.
Now I'm weaponless.
I'm cornered against the dungeon wall, my back pressed against the cold, rough stone. Sweat mixed with blood drips from my chin.
My breathing is ragged like someone who just ran a marathon.
Gob steps forward with slow, deliberate steps.
His eyes still blazing with unextinguished rage.
His fist raised high, aimed straight at my face.
And in terrifying slow motion, I can see that final punch coming.
My instincts scream at maximum volume, like they're saying:
DODGE! RUN! PAIN IS COMING!
DON'T LET HIM TOUCH YOU!
YOU'RE GOING TO DIE!
But in the middle of that panic and fear response...
A cold, foreign thought emerges from the deepest part of my consciousness.
'Pain?'
'Death?'
Memories of jail and my village start flashing before me.
The cold, hard floor, stabbing into my spine every night for several days.
No mattress.
No blanket.
Just coldness seeping into my bones.
The stinging pain eating away at open wounds.
Blood that dried and stuck to clothes that never got changed.
Brutal kicks to my ribs that made me vomit blood after getting beaten by Ryuu.
The suffocating feeling that never went away because of cracked ribs even after being treated.
The hunger gnawing at my stomach for days on end.
Murky, foul-smelling water.
Moldy bread I had to eat to survive when I was in the village where I grew up.
And the worst part...
The despair eating away at my soul.
The feeling that nobody cared.
Nobody would help me.
That I would die in a cold, dark place with no one knowing.
'This pain... is nothing.'
'Compared to what I've already endured...'
'One punch to the face is just... a gentle breeze.'
Instead of dodging or closing my eyes, I straighten my body.
Eyes looking straight at the fist coming at full speed toward my face.
No fear.
No urge to run.
No flinch response.
Just... calm.
THUD!
His fist hits my left cheek with full force.
Bone clashing against bone in a symphony of violence that's perfectly harmonized.
Pain explodes like lightning, spreading from the impact point across the entire left side of my face. I feel my lip split, feel warm blood flowing heavily from the open wound.
There's a strong metallic taste in my mouth.
But...
I don't fall.
Don't even stagger.
I just stand there, feeling...
My mind slowly becoming clear.
Like the thick fog that's been covering my thoughts all this time suddenly got swept away by strong wind, revealing the mental landscape that's been hidden.
Fear of pain... is gone.
Completely.
Like invisible shackles suddenly snapping, freeing me from a mental prison I didn't realize had been holding me captive for years.
Gob steps back, his eyes widening with an expression I've never seen before.
Pure shock.
He's looking at me like he's seeing something scientifically impossible.
Someone who just got punched full force should fall.
Should cry and give up.
Should surrender.
But I...
I smile.
I wipe the blood from the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand, feeling the texture of fresh blood that's warm and thick. The metallic taste on my tongue feels... familiar. Comfortable, even.
"That's it?" I say in a voice that's calmer than I expected.
A voice coming from somewhere deep and centered, with no tremor of fear or pain.
"Is that all you've got?"
"This is kinda disappointing."
Those words come out with a conviction that surprises even me.
Gob stays quiet for a moment, still processing what just happened.
The next second his face becomes even angrier.
Then he attacks again.
But this time...
My body moves on its own.
Without conscious thought, without analysis, without fear.
Pure instinct freed from mental constraints.
My hand moves with surprising speed, catching his wrist as the punch comes.
My fingers lock with strong grip strength!
His eyes widen again... this time not just shock, but something else too.
Confusion?
Without pause, I use the momentum and size advantage.
I twist my whole body, using perfect hip rotation, and slam him into the stone wall behind me.
THUD!
The impact is so hard the entire room shakes.
His back hits the ancient stone with a sound that echoes. Dust and stone fragments fall from the ceiling because of the tremor.
That's when I realize something completely mind-blowing.
My body... is flexible.
Really flexible.
Back in my old world, I once tried learning taekwondo when I was in middle school.
Total failure.
Embarrassing disaster.
My body was too stiff for high kicks.
Old age with a body already set in bad habits... sitting hunched over a computer for hours, never stretching, tense and stiff muscles.
The instructor even said, "You're like a rusty old man being forced to do ballet."
That instructor's words back then broke my heart and made me give up on martial arts.
Even when I reincarnated into this world, my mind was too fixed—I thought martial arts training wasn't my talent.
So I gave up and trained with swords instead.
But now...
My leg lifts easily, like it's weightless.
High.
Really high.
My knee almost touches my chest without effort, without pain, without resistance from tight muscles.
And then...
I bring my right leg down in a perfect axe kick.
A movement that's smooth, powerful, and technically flawless.
Gob rolls to the side with impressive reflexes, barely avoiding the impact.
My heel hits the stone floor where his head was a second before, creating a small crater and a spiderweb of cracks spreading in all directions.
'Holy shit.'
'Since when can I do this?'
'And more importantly... why does it feel so natural?'
'And so strong?'
But there's no time for philosophical pondering.
My body's already moving again, flowing from one movement to the next like water in a pipe. Every movement connected seamlessly to the next movement.
Side kick to his ribs.
He blocks with his arm, but I've already pivoted for a back kick.
Spinning back kick targeted at his solar plexus.
He dodges by a hair's breadth, counter-attacks with an elbow strike.
I duck under it, sweep with a low kick.
He jumps, I'm already standing with a knee strike aimed at his midsection.
For the first time in all of our sparring sessions...
I'm the one attacking.
Gob, the genius fighter who's always been one step ahead, is now forced into pure defense.
He's parrying my punches, dodging my kicks, but I keep applying pressure relentlessly.
Relentless.
Methodical.
Brutal.
And that's when I notice something interesting.
A pattern in his fighting style.
He never counters with kicks.
Never.
His hands move like lightning. parrying, punching, blocking, striking. Flawless upper body combat. But his legs... stay grounded, always maintaining balance and stability.
Sometimes he jumps or shifts position to avoid attacks, but never offensive kicks.
'Is it because of his small body?'
'Short legs mean limited reach for kicks?'
'Or is there another reason?'
'Maybe he's purely an upper body fighter by preference?'
'Or maybe... there's a weakness in his lower body defense?'
Whatever the reason, it's an exploitable weakness.
And I'm gonna use it to the fullest.
My mind shifts to analysis mode.
No more overthinking.
No more hesitation.
No more doubt.
Just pure tactical assessment and execution.
I combine upper body feints with low kicks.
Fake punch to the face, actual kick to the shin.
He lifts his leg to avoid, and when his balance is compromised...
Hook to his ribs.
Clean hit.
Solid impact.
For the first time since we started sparring...
I hear Gob groan in pain.
"Khhraagh!"
The sound coming from his mouth isn't just surprise or discomfort.
That's genuine pain.
I actually hurt him.
Me.
Kaen who's always been the punching bag.
Kaen who always went home ashamed of losing to a goblin.
I actually landed a solid hit on a fighter who's obviously several levels above me.
Adrenaline surges through my bloodstream like liquid fire.
'Holy shit, I can do this!'
'I can fight back!'
But Gob doesn't give up.
Oh no.
Gob's eyes change completely.
The flash of shock gets replaced by something far more dangerous: pure, unadulterated determination.
The genius fighter realizes that standard techniques won't be enough anymore.
Time to get serious.
He changes his entire strategy.
Instead of avoiding my punches, he steps forward into range. Instead of parrying and countering, he lets some of my hits land and retaliates with devastating shots.
Trading blows.
The fight becomes something primitive and absolutely brutal.
He punches me in the jaw, I retaliate with an elbow to his ribs.
When I throw a knee strike, he slams both palms into my chest.
He hooks my temple, I respond with an uppercut to his solar plexus.
Pure brawling.
No finesse.
No technique.
Just two bodies systematically destroying each other in a primal dance of violence.
DANGER! DANGER! BACK OFF NOW!
My [Survival Instinct] skill screams in my head like a broken smoke alarm.
Every incoming punch is a deafening "DANGER!"
Every approaching elbow is a "FATAL THREAT!" that shakes my skull.
Every knee strike is "DEATH! DEATH!"
Before, I would've panicked and desperately tried to avoid all those alarms.
Now?
Now I treat those alarms like background noise.
Annoying elevator muzak that can be completely ignored.
I let those warnings blast at full volume while continuing to move forward, keep attacking, keep applying pressure.
The pain in my face, ribs, stomach, arms... all of it is no longer an enemy that has to be avoided at all costs.
It's companions that remind me I'm still alive.
Still fighting.
Still refusing to give up.
His punch hits my nose with a sickening crack.
I feel cartilage crunch, septum maybe broken. Warm blood immediately flows heavily from both nostrils, creating warm streams that drip to my mouth and chin.
The sour taste intensifies.
But I retaliate with a solid hook to his jaw.
Clean connection.
He responds with a vicious elbow to my solar plexus, knocking air completely out of my lungs.
I can't breathe for a second, world spinning slightly.
But I push through and deliver a knee strike that connects with his stomach.
No elegant techniques.
No complex strategies.
No beautiful combinations.
Just two bodies systematically trying to destroy each other in the most basic, most honest way possible.
Raw violence.
Pure aggression.
Primal combat.
And somehow...
I feel more alive than ever before in my entire life.
More connected to my body.
More present in the moment.
More... free.
Every punch that lands, every kick that connects, every elbow that hits its target—all of it feels like release from years of suppressed frustration and bottled-up anger.
All that passive-aggressive bullshit.
All those suppressed emotions.
All the fears and insecurities.
Everything coming out through my fists.
Through violence.
Through honest, straightforward combat.
And for the first time in my life...
I'm not running away from confrontation.
I'm embracing it.
Welcoming it.
Loving it.
The fight continues with escalating intensity.
Neither of us willing to back down.
Neither of us willing to show weakness.
Pride and respect and pure stubborn determination driving us forward even as our bodies accumulate more damage.
Blood from various cuts mixing with sweat, creating pink streams that drip to the floor.
Breathing becomes labored.
Movements become slightly slower.
But our fighting spirit remains unbroken.
Unyielding.
Fierce.
The fight reaches its climax when we both simultaneously step back, breathing hard, bodies bloodied and bruised, but eyes still burning with the same fire.
Same determination.
Same refusal to surrender.
Gob looks at me with a complex expression.
I look at him with newfound respect.
Without words, we both know this is the final moment.
Last exchange.
All or nothing.
We move together.
Perfect synchronization.
Final punch.
Both aimed at the face.
Both thrown with every ounce of remaining strength.
Both completely committed to the strike.
My fist connects with his right cheek at the exact same moment his punch slams into my jaw.
Double impact.
Simultaneous connection.
CRACK! THUD!
The sound of bone meeting bone, multiplied by two.
We both get knocked backward from the sheer force of mutual impact, lose balance completely, and crash into walls on opposite sides of the room.
My back hits stone with a sound like thunder.
His body slams into the opposite wall with equal violence.
Dust and debris fall from the ceiling because of the double impact.
Dungeon crystals flicker erratically from the vibrations.
And then...
Complete silence.
I'm leaning against the wall, my entire body screaming in agony.
Breath ragged like a broken engine struggling to function.
Blood dripping from multiple cuts on my face, creating small red puddles on the stone floor below.
My body feels completely shattered.
Every breath is torture.
Every small movement sends waves of pain through damaged ribs and bruised muscles.
My jaw throbs with a steady, pulsing ache.
Nose definitely broken.
Probably several ribs cracked.
Multiple contusions and abrasions on my arms and torso.
I should be miserable.
Should be regretting this entire fight.
Should be crying or surrendering or begging for mercy.
Instead...
A smile... wide, genuine, and completely euphoric spreads across my battered face.
A smile coming from the deepest core of my being.
From a place that's been buried for a long time under layers of fear and self-doubt and social conditioning.
I look at Gob, who's also leaning against the opposite wall.
Face swollen, blood flowing from the corner of his mouth, clothes torn and bloodied.
But his eyes...
The eyes looking at me are no longer eyes of anger.
Not anymore.
Those are eyes of...
Admiration?
Respect?
Pride?
Something profound and meaningful that can't easily be categorized.
'What is this feeling?'
I think to myself while feeling adrenaline still coursing through my bloodstream like liquid electricity.
Heart beating hard, not from fear, but from pure... exhilaration?
'Why does this feel so incredibly good?'
'So liberating?'
'So... right?'
Did too much suppressed anger make me slightly masochistic?
Or has something fundamental shifted in my core identity?
I touch my split lip, feeling warm blood on my fingertips.
And I laugh.
A loud, completely unrestrained laugh, echoing in the silent dungeon room.
"Hahaha... HAHAHA!"
Laughter coming from somewhere very deep, from a part of my soul that's been buried for so long under pretense, fear, and self-imposed limitations.
I feel truly alive.
Completely present.
Totally connected to my authentic self.
For the first time in my life, I'm experiencing what it means to be completely unafraid of pain.
Unafraid of danger.
Unafraid of the possibility of losing.
And most importantly...
Unafraid of my own authentic nature.
Whatever that nature might be.
Gob slowly stands up, wiping blood from his face with the back of his hand.
He looks at me with an incredibly complex expression. A mixture of respect, pride, approval, and something else I can't quite identify.
And then...
He smiles.
The first genuine smile I've ever seen from him.
Not a smirk.
Not a grin.
A pure, honest smile of recognition.
Fighter acknowledging another fighter.
Warrior acknowledging another warrior.
He raises his right fist to the air... a gesture of salute.
Tribute from one combatant to another.
Recognition of courage.
Acknowledgment of heart.
I return the salute by raising my own fist, even though my arm's shaking from exhaustion and damage.
'I want to fight again.'
The thought comes suddenly, crystal clear and undeniable.
Not from anger or frustration.
Not to prove anything to anyone.
But because of...
Pure joy of combat.
Pure exhilaration of testing myself against a worthy opponent.
Pure pleasure of pushing my limits and discovering what I'm truly capable of.
This is the new me.
And I absolutely love it.