The goblin wasn't just ugly; it was offensively ugly.
Its skin was the color of moldy cheese, its eyes were mismatched beads of pure malice, and its drool hung in a viscous string that seemed to defy gravity with sheer spite. Most terrifyingly of all, it was jogging. Jogging. Directly at Arjun Veylor.
Gods, I should have just become a turnip farmer, Arjun thought, his lungs burning and his legs pumping with the desperation of a cornered rabbit. Turnips don't have jagged, teeth-like things. Turnips don't try to eat your face. This was a terrible career choice!
The F-Class Guild Exam. It was supposed to be simple. "Cull the goblin nest at the edge of the Sunken Woods," the proctor had said, a bored look on his grizzled face. "A test of basic competency and courage."
Arjun possessed neither.
While the other ten aspirants charged forward with rusty swords and crackling beginner spells, Arjun had taken one look at the sheer number of green-skinned ankle-biters and executed a perfect, instantaneous 180-degree turn. His only strategy was, and always had been, survive.
Now, one particularly ambitious goblin had broken from the pack, its guttural snarls promising a truly undignified end for Arjun.
"Leave me alone!" he yelped, his voice cracking. He risked a glance over his shoulder. The goblin was gaining. It brandished a crude, rock-tipped club like it was a king's scepter.
Oh no, oh no, oh no. His eyes darted wildly, searching for an escape. A thicket of thorns? He'd be shredded. A tall tree? He had the upper body strength of a wet noodle. His gaze landed on a mossy, dilapidated wall of ancient stone half-buried in the hillside. It looked dark and creepy and probably full of spiders.
Perfect. Spiders were infinitely better than goblins.
He veered sharply, his worn leather boots skidding on damp leaves. Just a few more feet. He could squeeze through that gap, hide in the dark, and wait for this whole nightmare to be over.
That's when his foot caught on a gnarled root that seemed to leap out of the ground with personal animosity.
Arjun's world tilted. There was no graceful stumble, no cinematic roll. He went down hard, his forward momentum sending him sliding across the slick mud and wet grass like a human toboggan. His terrified shriek was cut short as his head connected with the crumbling stone wall.
CRACK!
The wall didn't just break. It disintegrated. Rotting wood, ancient mortar, and petrified stones exploded outwards as Arjun, propelled by panic and terrible luck, shot straight through the barrier and into the darkness beyond.
He tumbled through space for a heart-stopping second before landing with a solid, jarring THUD on something hard and flat. The impact knocked the wind out of him, leaving him gasping like a fish on a pier.
The air in here was different. It was stale, heavy, and tasted of sealed time and forgotten dust. As his vision swam back into focus, he realized he was in a circular chamber, lit by a faint, eerie luminescence. And he was lying on an altar. A massive, black obsidian altar carved with spidery runes that pulsed with a soft, malevolent violet light.
Get up. Get off. Get out.
He scrambled to push himself up, his sweaty palm slapping down flat onto the central rune stone to get some leverage.
The moment his skin made contact, the world went silent.
The violet light of the runes didn't just brighten; it erupted. It surged up his arm, not with heat, but with an invasive, soul-deep cold. The entire chamber flared with an intensity that bleached all color from existence. Arjun didn't even have time to scream. The world didn't explode. It was erased.
Outside, a blinding wave of silent, colorless light washed over the Sunken Woods. The goblin, moments from pouncing on the hole Arjun had made, froze mid-stride before its eyes rolled back into its head and it crumpled to the ground, unconscious. Deeper in the ruins, dozens of far more terrifying shapes—hulking Shadow Ogres, spectral Curse-Wraiths, ancient Stone Guardians slumbering for centuries—suffered the same fate, their formidable power instantly and utterly neutralized.
From a seal that cracked and crumbled into dust beneath the altar, a single object shot out like a bolt of lightning. It was a dagger, its blade carved from what looked like solidified night, its hilt wrapped in worn, dark leather. It spun through the air and landed with a soft thump right in Arjun's limp, outstretched hand, its handle fitting perfectly into his palm.
When the light faded, the ruins were still.
A minute later, three figures arrived at the scene, drawn by the unnatural surge of energy.
The first was Seraphina Vulkrane, her crimson hair a fiery banner against the gloom. She held a gleaming steel spear, her armor pristine despite the skirmish. Her sharp eyes scanned the field of unconscious goblins, then the new, man-sized hole in the ancient wall.
"What was that power?" she breathed, her voice a mix of awe and suspicion. "No scorch marks. No blood. He neutralized them all with pure, overwhelming force... What kind of technique is that?"
The second was Eirlys Sivenne, a priestess in robes of white and blue, her silver hair framing a face of serene beauty. She held a glowing staff, its light pulsating gently. Her gaze, however, was fixed on the entrance to the ruin.
"The curse…" she whispered, her calm composure fractured. "The malevolent aura that has clung to these ruins for a millennium… it's gone. He didn't fight it; he nullified it with his own presence. The Divine Ones weep…"
Leading them was Guild Proctor Sorran, a veteran whose face was a roadmap of a hundred desperate battles. He cautiously approached the hole, peering into the dust-filled darkness. His professional stoicism shattered, replaced by sheer, unadulterated shock.
The dust was settling, revealing a chilling tableau.
There, in the center of a desecrated chamber, stood the scrawny, terrified boy from the exam orientation. His shirt was torn, his face smudged with dirt. He was standing over the unconscious forms of not just goblins, but creatures that hadn't been seen on this continent in centuries. His body glowed with a faint, residual violet aura, and in his hand, he clutched a dagger that seemed to drink the very light from the air—Soulfang, the legendary life-draining artifact lost since the fall of the Shadow Tyrant.
Sorran felt a tremor of primal fear run down his spine. The boy wasn't even looking at them. He was just… standing there, radiating an aura of such absolute power that it felt like looking at a god who had just woken from a long nap.
"We didn't just find a promising new recruit…" Sorran stammered, his voice barely audible. "We found… something else."
Seraphina's eyes widened, her competitive spirit roaring to life. Such power… in one so young! Is he a rival? A monster? A… hero?
Eirlys bowed her head slightly, her faith shaken and stirred. To purify this cursed land with a single act… Who did we just witness?
Finally, Arjun's brain rebooted. He blinked, shaking his head to clear the ringing in his ears. He looked down at the heavy, terrifyingly sharp thing in his hand. He looked at the massive, snoring monsters littering the floor around him. He looked up at the three powerful, important-looking people staring at him with expressions of profound awe and fear.
He did the only thing a true coward could do in such a situation. He gave them a weak, terrified smile, his voice coming out as a pathetic squeak.
"U-Uhh… I was just… lost?"