The goblins charged.
"GRAAAK! SHRA'KETH! SHRA'KETH!"
Their war cries split the crimson twilight—guttural, primal, the sound of hungry predators spotting wounded prey. Twenty-eight bodies surged forward in a tide of green flesh and rusted weapons, their yellow eyes burning with bloodlust.
The four shamans hung back, staffs raised, dark energy crackling around their gnarled fingers as they began their chants. But these weren't simple fire spells—their voices carried a weight that made the air itself feel wrong.
Don didn't move.
Not yet.
His right hand tightened on his sword. His left hand—empty—began to glow.
[SKILL: IMAGINATION ACTIVATED]
[MANA COST: 50]
[CREATING: PRIMITIVE FIRE DAGGER]
Flames erupted in his left palm, coalescing, solidifying, taking shape. But these weren't normal flames. They didn't burn his skin, didn't consume his flesh. They bent to his will, twisted by his imagination into something solid, something deadly.
A dagger. Crude, primitive in design, but its blade was pure fire—white-hot at the core, bleeding into orange and red at the edges. The heat shimmered in the air around it, but Don's hand remained untouched.
[MANA: 600/1050]
[Oh! OH! Look at you, little seed! Creating weapons of FIRE! You're learning! You're ADAPTING! This is BEAUTIFUL!]
Don's lips pulled back, not quite a smile. More like a predator baring its teeth.
The first wave of goblins was twenty meters away.
Fifteen.
Ten.
"THRAK'NAR! KILL-KILL!"
Their voices were glass grinding on stone, nails on metal, the language of nightmares given sound.
Don moved.
His agility stat of 28 wasn't just a number—it was the difference between life and death. Where a normal person would see a charging mob, Don saw openings. Gaps between bodies. Predictable attack patterns. Weaknesses.
The first goblin swung a rusted axe at his head.
Don ducked under it, his steel sword flashing out in a horizontal arc that took the creature's legs out from under it. The goblin's scream cut short as Don's fire dagger plunged into its throat on his way past.
[+20 XP]
The notification flashed in his peripheral vision, cold and emotionless.
Two more goblins lunged from either side, clubs raised.
Don's sword met the left one's weapon, deflecting it with minimal effort—Adept Mastery meant he knew exactly how much force to use, exactly where to strike. His fire dagger carved through the right goblin's chest, the flames searing through flesh and bone like they weren't even there.
[+20 XP]
The left goblin tried to recover, raising its club for another swing.
Don was faster.
His sword pierced its eye socket, punching through to the brain. The goblin spasmed once and went limp.
[+20 XP]
Three down. Twenty-five to go.
The shamans were still chanting, their voices rising in pitch and intensity.
"VRAK! VRAK'THUL!" The remaining goblins screamed, circling, trying to surround him.
[YES! MORE! KILL MORE! Can you feel it, little seed? The way their blood SINGS as it spills? The way their fear TASTES in the air?]
Don didn't answer. He was already moving.
A goblin with a spear jabbed at his side. Don twisted, letting the point slide past him by inches, and brought his fire dagger down on the creature's extended arm. The blade severed flesh and bone with a hiss of burning meat. The goblin shrieked, stumbling back—
Don's sword took its head.
[+20 XP]
Two more rushed him from behind. Don heard them—that pathetic Sense stat of 5 was barely enough, but Learning and Adaptation had honed his combat instincts. He spun, his sword creating a deadly arc that opened one goblin's throat.
[+20 XP]
The second one got inside his guard, a rusty knife scraping across his armor. The blade found a gap, slicing into his side—
Pain.
Not as much as it should have been. Immortality reduced it, made it distant, manageable. Blood welled from the wound, but Don barely flinched.
His fire dagger punched into the goblin's chest. The creature screamed as the flames ate it from the inside, its flesh blackening, its eyes bursting from the heat.
[+20 XP]
[You're WOUNDED, little seed! Oh, but you don't even CARE, do you? The pain is nothing! The THRILL is everything!]
Don felt the wound knitting itself together, his mana draining to fuel the regeneration.
[MANA: 560/1050]
[HP: REGENERATING…]
Six down.
The shamans finished their chant.
"GRAK'TAR VORESH'UUL!"
The air itself seemed to twist. Dark energy erupted from their staffs—not fire, not lightning, but something far worse.
A wave of corruption swept across the battlefield like invisible smoke. Where it touched, the moss blackened and died. The air turned thick, poisonous.
And it was heading straight for Don.
He felt it the moment it reached him—a crushing weight on his mind, his vision, his soul. His eyes went dark. Not closed, but blind. As if someone had wrapped black cloth around his head and pulled tight.
[WARNING: CURSE DETECTED]
[BLINDNESS CURSE - DURATION: 60 SECONDS]
[VISION: DISABLED]
"Fuck!"
Don staggered, his sword sweeping in a defensive arc around him. He couldn't see. Couldn't see the goblins, couldn't see their attacks, couldn't see anything.
Seven goblins blocked his path to the cage. He could hear them—their breathing, their footsteps, their weapons scraping against each other as they closed in.
"SHRA! BLIND! KILL NOW!"
They charged.
[Oh dear. Oh DEAR. Looks like we have a problem, little seed. Can't see, can't fight, can't WIN. Unless… unless you let me HELP? Just a little? Just enough to—]
"No."
Don's voice was cold, absolute.
[But little seed, you're going to DIE if you—]
"I said no. But you're going to guide me."
A pause. Then Madness laughed—delighted, surprised, impressed.
[Oh! OH! You want to USE me without giving me CONTROL? How deliciously clever! Very well, little seed. Left—NOW!]
Don threw himself left. A club whistled through the space where his head had been.
[Two steps forward, sword HIGH!]
Don lunged forward, his sword raised. It met resistance—flesh, bone. A goblin's scream confirmed the hit.
[+20 XP]
[Behind you! SPIN!]
Don spun, his fire dagger lashing out blindly. He felt it connect, felt the heat of flames consuming something solid.
[+20 XP]
The curse was already fading—30 seconds left—but it felt like an eternity. Fighting blind was like drowning. Every instinct screamed at him to open his eyes, to see, but there was nothing. Just darkness and Madness's voice guiding him through the chaos.
[Duck! Roll right! THREE of them!]
Don obeyed. His body moved on pure instinct and trust—trust in an entity that wanted to possess him, that was probably enjoying this far too much.
But it was working.
His sword found another target. His dagger another. The goblins were screaming now, confused, terrified that this blind human was still killing them.
[+20 XP]
[+20 XP]
[Twenty seconds left, little seed. You're doing SO well! Doesn't it feel GOOD to trust me? To work TOGETHER?]
Don didn't answer. His vision was starting to return—blurry, unfocused, but there. Shapes materializing out of the darkness.
Fifteen seconds.
[Forward! The cage! She's RIGHT THERE!]
Ten seconds.