This chapter is excellent! It transitions from the high of Bjorn's confidence to the "slap in the face" reality of a dark dungeon perfectly. You've captured that feeling of a veteran player realizing that knowing the mechanics is very different from living them.
I have polished the grammar, intensified the sensory details (the "splat" of the goblin's feet, the paralyzing poison), and corrected the character names and terms based on the Dungeon & Stone lore.
Revised Version: Chapter 1, Part 3The Dark Zone
As far as Dungeon & Stone was concerned, I was an expert. I could recite every monster's behavior, spawn point, and weakness without hesitation. Based on that knowledge, I had made my decision: with a barbarian's body and my decade of experience, I could survive this labyrinth easily.
Or so I thought.
"Oh... no."
The moment I stepped through the portal, the world went black. Not metaphorically—literally. I couldn't see a thing. If someone had blindfolded me, it wouldn't have made a bit of difference.
"Damn it."
I felt like I'd been slapped across the head. I hadn't questioned why the other barbarians only carried one weapon. On the first floor of the game, glowing crystals in the walls usually acted as a light source. A torch shouldn't have been necessary. Of course, the first floor did have a Dark Zone, but it was strictly localized to one small section.
Did I really just spawn in the Dark Zone?
In the game, starting positions were random, but the "randomness" was balanced; you always started near a light source. But this wasn't a monitor anymore. The conveniences provided by game developers didn't exist here. A shitty starting point was just... reality.
I forced myself to breathe. My eyes slowly adjusted to the gloom until I could make out faint outlines.
"Status window. Equipment. Character info. Inventory. Journal check... damn my life."
Nothing happened. I hadn't really expected it to, but it was worth a shot.
"Let's move."
Shield in one hand, the other gripping the cold stone wall, I shuffled forward. I was moving slower than a crawl. It was dangerous, but I had no choice.
Snap.
"AAAAARGH!"
A sharp, white-hot pain exploded in my ankle. My nerves went haywire. Even through the agony, my gamer brain automatically provided the answer.
[The character has triggered a Goblin Trap.]
I had stepped right into a snare.
The Cunning of Goblins
Where did I go wrong? The answer was obvious. The shield gave me a sense of security, but it blocked my downward vision. If I had tucked the shield into my belt and focused on the floor, I would have seen the trap. I had prioritized psychological comfort over practicality.
Stupid.
My mind wanted to scream, but I bit my lip until it bled. Screaming would only make it worse. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird.
Hoo... Hoo... Hoo...
I controlled my breathing. Goblins were the only monsters on the first floor that used traps. And they never left their traps unattended.
I raised my shield to cover my head and went dead silent. I listened. Nothing.
Maybe he isn't here? Maybe he went to take a leak?
I shook the hope away. I needed a negative mindset right now. If I wasn't sure, I had to assume the worst: the goblin had heard my scream and was currently hiding in the darkness, waiting for me to bleed out or lose my strength.
"Hmph!"
I lowered myself, forced the trap's jaws open with both hands, and pulled my foot free. I tore a strip from my trousers to wrap the wound and threw my sandal away—it was just a useless flip-flop anyway. These barbarians were idiots. If they had given us leather boots, a simple trap wouldn't have half-crippled me.
I stopped. Stop complaining. Check the wound.
It was bad. I couldn't feel my right foot anymore. The heat was fading into a dull, heavy numbness.
"I know you're hiding," I whispered into the dark. "Come out."
Silence. I began to move, my footsteps echoing softly. Step. Drag. Step. Drag. My foot throbbed, but the pain was manageable—likely due to a paralyzing poison on the trap. I didn't know if that was good or bad. If the nerve cells were dying, it was bad. If the poison was just dulling the pain so I could fight, it was a godsend.
"Come on out, you coward!"
I kept provoking it. Time was my enemy. The longer I waited, the more blood I lost, and the more likely it was that he was waiting for reinforcements.
"What, you aren't coming? Then I'm leaving."
I sped up. It felt like running a marathon while waist-deep in mud. My brain felt fuzzy, almost like I was drunk. Maybe it was the blood loss.
"Your mom's a goblin," I muttered, the words spilling out unfiltered. "Your dad's a leprechaun. Which makes you... a half-breed goblin."
Splat—
There it was. A tiny sound, but in the silence of the labyrinth, it was like a gunshot.
"Oh? You don't like me talking about your parents?"
The sound came from behind me. The goblin was forced to move as I got further away. I sped up my hobble. The footsteps behind me quickened too.
Splat. Splat. Splat.
It sounded like wet skin peeling off a smooth surface. Even though I knew goblins were barely a meter tall, the sound made it feel like a giant was looming over me. To kill the fear, I kept talking.
"Don't just follow me. Come closer, you bastard."
The goblin stayed at a fixed distance.
"Grk... Grk-grk...!"
It wasn't a growl. It was a laugh. The bastard was delighted to watch me struggle. He wanted me to be terrified.
Clever bastard. Okay. New plan.
I stopped dead. I didn't just stop—I "collapsed," slamming into the ground.
BANG!
My forehead hit a rock, but I didn't make a sound. Now, it was a battle of patience. If he thought I was dead and approached, I won. If I actually lost consciousness first, he won.
"Grk?"
I put my faith in this barbarian body. I had already walked 300 meters on a broken, poisoned foot. I could hold out a little longer.
Splat...
The footsteps drew closer, agonizingly slow. He was suspicious. Goblins were the "trash mobs" of the game, but in reality, they were far more cunning than the barbarians I had met.
Thud.
Something hit my shoulder and rolled. A rock. The bastard was testing me to see if I'd flinch.
"Grk! Grk-grk!"
When I didn't move, he let out a joyful howl. He believed it.
Splat-splat-splat!
He ran toward me, skipping with excitement. I counted the sounds, measuring the distance. Five feet. Three feet. Now.
"Gotcha!"
I lunged upward, reaching out with my bare hands. I didn't go for the shield—hands were faster. But as I moved, I realized the distance was still too great, and he was faster than I expected.
"Grk!" The goblin arched its back and sprang away.
Damn it, I missed!
But then, something strange happened. My body moved on its own. Even in the pitch black, I intuitively "felt" where the goblin had jumped. Before I could even think, my hand snatched the air.
Snap.
I felt skin under my fingers. I didn't care if it was a wrist or a neck. I grabbed it and slammed the creature into the stone floor with everything I had.
CRACK.
Something broke. I didn't stop. I pinned him down, mounting his chest.
"I'm on top, you're on the bottom. Remember that."
I rained punches down on his face. My fists hit the stone floor several times, but the barbarian's knuckles didn't break—the floor did.
Finally, the struggling stopped.
Whoosh—!
A cloud of glowing dust scattered into the air. I stopped punching. The body beneath me had dissolved into shimmering fragments.
"Ha... ha... are you kidding me? Even this is the same?"
Was this a game or reality? I couldn't tell anymore.
[You have defeated a Goblin. EXP +1]
The body vanished completely, leaving only a small, faintly glowing stone.
[You have obtained a Level 9 Mana Stone.]
I picked it up. In Dungeon & Stone, this was the basic currency. I knew exactly what it was worth.
"One loaf of bread," I rasped.
I started to laugh. It was that hysterical laughter that comes after you've almost died. I was in a labyrinth. Monsters turned into dust. They dropped loot. There were other races in the city.
This was my reality now. And I wasn't going to let it kill me.