The moment Nam burst into the treeline, panic slammed into him like a hammer blow.
His legs reacted before his brain even processed the danger—
sprinting, stumbling, flailing like a newborn deer with commitment issues—
while the world warped into streaks of green and shadow around him.
And then the entire goblin camp detonated behind him.
Screeches—dozens of them, shrill and unhinged.
Roars—deep, chest-rattling ones from hobgoblins.
And above them all, the shaman's voice tore through the air, each curse like a stone hurled at his spine.
Nam didn't dare look back.
He didn't need to.
He could feel the hatred burning against his neck like a bonfire.
Branches whipped across his cheeks. Leaves grabbed at his sleeves.
His lungs burned so fiercely it felt like each breath was peeling away layers inside him.
But the worst sound—the one that drowned out everything else—
was the thunderous, nightmarish stampede of goblins chasing him.
A tidal wave of snarls and stomping feet.
"Focus. Focus—don't freak out—focus," Nam gasped.
He failed immediately.
His foot struck a root and he pitched forward, arms windmilling, voice cracking into an embarrassingly high yelp—
before he managed to catch himself and lurch onward.
"That was nothing. That didn't happen," he whispered shakily.
And then—
fweeeeeeeet
An arrow whistled past his cheek, close enough for the wind to kiss his skin.
It buried itself in a tree—his head's would-be new home—
with a violent crack.
"Wh—HEY!" Nam squeaked. "Can we NOT start with headshots?!"
Another arrow shot past his ribs.
A third tore into his sleeve, grazing his arm.
Blood welled instantly as pain flashed across his nerves.
"That's fine, that's—NOT fine! Stop?! Ow—OW—STOP!"
Behind him, goblins screeched louder, energized by the scent of blood.
One archer shrieked something guttural and excited—
a noise far too affectionate for Nam's sanity.
He reacted on pure instinct, spinning back to yell:
"I know I'm handsome, but sorry! I can't return your feelings!"
The goblins shrieked even louder.
Perfect. Romance was dead anyway.
Then—
A goblin lunged from his right, eyes burning with bloodlust, rusted daggers raised.
Nam's sword reacted before he consciously did.
A slash—clean, desperate—cut across its neck.
The creature's head rolled into a patch of moss while the body collapsed behind him.
Nam gagged. "That wasn't romantic either!"
Two more goblins burst from the brush ahead, trying to flank.
Nam pivoted sharply, blade flashing in tight arcs—
One fell with a deep gash in its chest.
The other leapt from a raised root—
Nam's upward slash caught it mid-air, sending it crashing into a thorn bush.
But for every one he killed—
the horde only seemed to multiply.
Because behind them—
RRRAAAAAHHH!!
The hobgoblin roared again, loud enough to shake leaves loose from branches.
Nam jerked like someone had slapped ice water down his spine.
"Stay calm… stay calm… I'm calm…"
His voice cracked into a squeak.
He was absolutely not calm.
Arrows kept coming.
Sloppy, frantic volleys—but still lethal.
One grazed his shoulder.
Another shot past his face with enough force to sting.
A third embedded itself in a tree trunk where his chest would've been had he not ducked so aggressively he scraped dirt with his shirt.
"Okay—ow—okay—this is too much cardio—ow—STOP—OW!"
His lungs screamed.
His legs felt like he was running on molten metal.
His face burned from sweat, panic, and humiliation.
Nam was visibly flustered—
eyes wide, breathing in sharp, terrified bursts.
Every few seconds he made a tiny distressed sound—
a squeak, a whine, a breathless whimper—
that he immediately pretended didn't happen.
Still—he kept running.
Because behind him, the forest thundered with murder.
He veered around a boulder—
ducked under a low branch—
nearly bashed his forehead against another—
while his heart hammered like it wanted out of his chest.
"WHY—" Nam gasped as he launched over a fallen tree.
"—AM I—" he choked out while dodging another branch.
"—SUFFERING LIKE THIS?!"
His voice cracked like a dying microphone.
"I'M A GAMER! A GAMER! I should be clicking a mouse, not dodging arrows in 4K reality! This is ILLEGAL!"
A branch slapped him full across the face.
"OW—what—why is nature attacking ME?!"
His legs trembled.
His breaths were ragged.
His vision blurred dangerously.
Stopping would mean death.
Guaranteed. No respawn.
He forced himself onward.
"Move, move—dammit MOVE!" he hissed, voice breaking into what was essentially a terrified whimper.
Another root snagged his foot—
He stumbled—
nearly ate dirt—
caught himself again.
The hobgoblin behind him roared, closer than ever.
The ground trembled.
"Nope nope nope nope NOPE don't like that!"
His thoughts spiraled.
Think.
Think.
THINK, Nam! For the love of everything, THINK!
He scanned his memory like he was scrolling through a mental hard drive—
Every map he had studied.
Every glitch video he'd watched at 3am.
Every forum comment.
Every random tip posted by some random dudes
His brain simulated a map in real time—
a ghostly overlay floating through his vision.
The forest path.
Elevation.
Obstacles.
Enemy density.
Likely chokepoints.
Then—
A spark.
A flicker of memory.
His eyes widened.
"…Wait."
Wait.
Wait.
That place.
Risky.
Unstable.
Borderline suicidal.
But it was the only option that wasn't "die horribly."
His breath hitched.
A spark of hope ignited through the terror.
"AH—THAT PLACE!"
He stumbled from excitement, almost tripping again.
But he didn't slow.
He ran faster.
Branches tore his clothes.
Thorns scratched his legs raw.
His lungs felt like ripping paper.
Sweat stung his eyes.
But for the first time since the nightmare began—
Nam wasn't running in blind panic.
He was running toward something.
He saw it—
a shape forming through the darkness, distant but unmistakable.
His pulse skyrocketed.
His lifeline.
His landmark.
His only hope.
Nam didn't hesitate.
Didn't look back.
Didn't breathe.
He tore through the forest, sprinting toward the one dangerous salvation left to him—
That place.
***
That human.
That insolent, thieving, blasphemous pest.
The shaman's breaths came out in ragged, electrical rattles—each inhale dragging sparks through its lungs, each exhale curling into steam and smoke. Its claws tightened around its crackling staff until the wood creaked, mana surging so violently the surrounding goblins flinched every time its lightning flared.
How dare he take it.
How dare a fleshling lay his filthy hands upon its lord's fragment.
The fragment of the Divine Beast's core—
the promise of their tribe's ascension—
the sacred heart of the ritual they had prepared for cycles—
Stolen.
By a dirt-born human whelp.
The shaman limped forward, not from weakness but from the overload of power coursing through its frame. Its hunched silhouette glowed with intermittent arcs of blue lightning, each snap scorching the bark of trees it brushed past.
Behind it, the entire host moved like a single furious organism.
Hobgoblins thundered ahead with savage grunts, forming the frontline.
Goblins yipped and snarled behind, scrambling across roots and rocks.
The forest itself seemed to recoil from their presence.
The shaman's thoughts crackled just like the energy around its skull.
His arrival day was near.
My lord should have awakened soon.
We prepared the offerings.
We gathered the blood.
The stars aligned.
Yet a human brat—some low-born, starless creature—
had nearly ruined the ritual with his meddling hands.
The shaman's lips curled back.
"Griiih… grrRAAAH… HUUUMAAAN… RETURN MY LOOOOORD!"
Its bellow shook the underbrush, scattering birds into the night sky like dark confetti.
Then the shaman saw him.
Stumbling.
Smoking.
Barely upright.
Running like a crippled deer—but still moving.
The human sprinted toward the old cliffside clearing.
The shaman blinked.
Lightning dimmed for a heartbeat.
"…Griiih?"
Was that human… voluntarily going there?
A pause.
Then a grin stretched across its face—too wide, too hungry.
Hah…
Fortunate.
This one is stupid.
Why run into the cliff clearing?
Why flee toward a dead end?
Why approach the place where the land simply drops away into the roaring falls, with no path, no ledges, no handholds?
Was this human trying to end his own suffering?
The tribe surged forward with renewed fervor.
The goblins were first to encircle the clearing, their silhouettes twitching with excitement as they formed a living wall of bodies.
They hissed and clicked, eyes shining with the thrill of the kill.
Hobgoblins followed, massive forms blotting out the moonlight as they took their positions—breathing hard, nostrils flaring, catching the scent of mana leaking from Nam's trembling body.
And then the shaman stepped onto the clearing's mossy soil.
With each step, the lightning around its staff grew brighter, spiraling into a vortex above the wood.
There he was.
The human.
Standing at the very edge of the waterfall cliff.
Back to the drop.
Wind whipping at his hair and clothes.
Water spray rising behind him like ghostly mist.
A single misstep away from plummeting into the abyss.
He was exhausted.
He was bleeding.
His mana flickered around him like a cracked candle flame.
His body shook with instability and fear.
But above all—
He was cornered.
No more trees to dodge.
No more shadows to slip through.
Only empty air behind him, and certain death in front.
The shaman's grin widened as it raised its staff, electricity spiraling violently around the carved bone.
"No more run… huuumaan…" it hissed.
"Kuhuk… kuhuhuhu…"
Lightning burst from the staff tip, splitting the air with a deafening crack.
"DIE—"
***
The waterfall roared beside him like a starving beast, its spray cold against Nam's battered skin. Every breath rattled in his lungs. His legs trembled—not just from exhaustion but from the reminder that he was standing on a ledge high enough to kill anyone dumb enough to slip.
And right now, Nam was dangerously close to being that idiot.
Great. First day in another world and I'm already auditioning for 'Most Pathetic Death.'
He forced himself to steady his gaze on the enemies closing in—circling him like vultures that had already picked out where they wanted to bite first.
The goblin shaman stood at the center, towering over the other goblins. His skin was darker, almost obsidian, with veins of faint golden lightning crawling just beneath the surface. His golden eyes glowed with a smugness that made Nam want to punch him—even though he'd probably break his own hand doing it.
Five hobgoblin guards flanked the shaman, massive and brutish, their muscles bulging under rough leather armor. They moved with a hungry confidence. They didn't even bother hiding their murderous grins.
Nam swallowed hard.
I know I'm handsome, but sorry—I can't return your feelings.
The joke flickered through his mind. And honestly, it barely helped.
The shaman extended his hand toward him, palm open.
Nam didn't need a translator.
'Give it to me, human. Surrender… and I'll give you a quick death.'
Nam's fingers tightened around the small yellow stone in his palm. It pulsed—softly, faintly—almost like a heartbeat.
He stared at it.
Was that… calling me? No. I'm tired. I'm hallucinating. Right?
He turned around and glanced down the cliff.
Wind screamed upward from the abyss.
If I jump, I die. If I stay, I die.
Perfect. Top-tier gamer experience.
Nam took a slow breath. His whole body hurt. Running was no longer possible. Fighting? Even less so. Those hobgoblins looked like they benched adventurers for breakfast.
The goblins stepped in closer.
Nam raised the stone slightly, his arm trembling.
To them, it probably looked like surrender.
The guards' grins widened. They leaned in, eager, confident.
The shaman nodded once, certain victory was already his.
Nam's expression didn't match at all.
He grimaced.
Then smirked.
An annoying, victorious grin.
"Hey," Nam said, voice hoarse but steady, "this thing's precious, right?"
He lifted the stone higher.
"It'd be bad if I just—"
He opened his mouth wide and shoved the stone inside.
The shaman's face went from triumphant to horrified in one heartbeat.
"GRRRRAAAAHHH—!!"
The guards lunged forward, all six rushing him at once.
But—
They were too late.
Crackle.
A deafening burst of thunder erupted from Nam's body.
Lightning exploded outward like a wild beast breaking free of chains.
The shockwave threw the shaman backward, slamming him into the cliff wall hard enough to crack stone. The hobgoblins were hit dead-on—lightning wrapped around them, flash-burning their bodies, their screams drowned by the roar of surging mana.
The cliff beneath Nam's feet split.
A spectral wolf—large, elegant, made of pure thunder—unfurled itself from the explosion, its form coiling protectively around him as if acknowledging him.
For a brief moment, Nam saw its eyes.
Ancient. Intelligent. Judging him.
Then everything—ground, goblins, and Nam himself—fell as the ledge gave way.
They plunged into the raging waterfall's endless fall.
----
✦ End of Chapter.