She staggered a few steps back, clutching her chest and gulping air, then her gaze darted to the fallen branch she had claimed earlier. Without hesitation she bent down, fingers closing tight around the rough wood. The simple stick was no sword, no knight's weapon, but in her hands it became her lifeline.
The goblin snarled, claws flexing, still half-aroused from his failed attempt at forcing her deeper into the wrestling stage. His eyes burned with frustration, but his stance wavered—the flush of his body, the trembling of his legs, all signs that his arousal made him sluggish. His movements were heavier, unbalanced, his mind clouded with hunger rather than tactics.
She lifted the branch, pointing it at him with both hands. The cursed one-piece clung tightly, torn across the back where the breeze still caressed her bare skin. Her cheeks burned with shame, but her eyes narrowed with determination.
He's slower now… weaker. That's my chance. I won't let this turn against me again!
The goblin lunged, but his body betrayed him—hips jerking with discomfort, claws slashing wide and imprecise. She sidestepped, her reflexes sharper than ever, and brought the branch crashing across his ribs. The crack of impact made him stagger back, spittle flying from his mouth.
She didn't stop. Each strike was fueled by adrenaline, her branch whipping against his shoulders, his arms, his skull. The goblin's snarls grew weaker, his swings slower, until he was practically stumbling with every attempt to counterattack.
It's working! His lust made him clumsy. I can win this—I will win this!
She darted in again, ducking low, the stick thrusting upward beneath his chin. The blow snapped his head back, sending him tumbling to the dirt with a heavy thud. His body twitched once, then went limp, chest rising and falling shallowly—knocked out cold.
Silence fell, broken only by her panting breaths. She leaned on the branch for balance, her torn armor sticking to her sweaty skin.
For a heartbeat, shame flickered through her again—memories of how close she had come, how exposed she still was. But the victory burned brighter.
I did it… I actually won. He thought he could break me, but I turned it around. Even if my body is fragile… even if my curse makes every touch unbearable… I can still fight. I can still win.
She stood taller, branch clenched tight, staring down at the defeated goblin. One battle was over. But she knew, deep in her chest, that this strange new world would not stop testing her anytime soon.
Her breath was still uneven when suddenly—
"You gained 150 experience."
The words weren't spoken aloud, but pulsed directly in her head, clear as any voice. She froze, blinking. Her branch nearly slipped from her fingers.
E-experience? Like in those adventurer stories? Did I… level up? No, wait… is this some kind of system?
Her thoughts spiraled, confusion mixing with awe. The logical part of her whispered that she should ask someone—the guild, yes. Maybe they could explain this strange phenomenon. But for now, she shook her head, cheeks warm. "I'll figure it out later…" she murmured, though no one was there to hear her.
Steeling herself, she crouched down beside the limp goblins. Her nose wrinkled as she pulled her branch-handled knife—no, she had nothing. Her fingers trembled until she realized she'd have to do it directly. Swallowing her timid nerves, she tugged at their ears, tearing them off with a shiver.
Ugh… gross… but this is what adventurers do, right? Proof of victory… proof I can bring back…
One by one, she collected them, trying not to look at their vacant faces. Her hands were sticky with blood when she stood again, orelhas tied together with a strip of vine.
That's when she felt it—the cool air brushing against her bare skin where her armor had torn. She crossed her arms over herself, face flushed with embarrassment. How am I supposed to walk back to the village like this?! They'll… they'll stare…
But before panic could set in, a shimmer rippled across her body. The torn edges of the one-piece began knitting back together, threads of darkness weaving and sealing until the cloth looked whole once more.
A second message bloomed inside her mind:
"Out of combat. Magical armor regeneration initiated."
Her lips parted, eyes wide. She touched her side where the tear had been, fingertips meeting smooth, seamless fabric. "It… fixed itself…?"
Relief crashed into her, almost making her laugh. Thank the gods… I don't have to walk back half-naked. But… just what kind of cursed blessing is this armor? It's like it has a will of its own.
She stood taller, clutching her branch and the goblin ears, her mind swirling with questions. The world around her suddenly felt heavier, stranger—but also, in some way, alive.
I need answers. And the guild will give them to me…