Kane sat at the breakfast table, feeling the gaze of his father, the King, settle on him like a lead weight. Breakfast was spread across the table in decadent layers—golden bread, spiced meats, fruit piled high enough to topple—but Kane had no appetite. His stomach churned under his father's watchful eyes, sharp and unwavering. The worry in them had become familiar.
Everyone knew the entrance exam for the Imperial Magic and Sword School was two weeks away, and Kane had no chance. He could hardly lift a sword without stumbling. Magic? Well, he'd hardly managed to produce even a spark. And his father knew that as well as he did. This would be his second attempt, and he remembered the sneering whispers from before, the way the nobles had smiled when he failed, beaten by a commoner in front of half the kingdom.
He gritted his teeth, forcing his face into a blank mask as his mother's voice drifted over, cheerful and bright. She was talking about Rowan, his older brother, who had written a letter full of tales from the Imperial School, his achievements and triumphs in combat. The King's pride practically shone as he spoke. "Mark my words, Rowan will bring a glory to our kingdom like nothing this world has seen in a thousand year."
Kane clenched his fists under the table, his nails digging into his palms. Glory? He nearly laughed. "That arrogant bastard is going to be one of the reasons this kingdom falls apart". But he said nothing, letting the bitterness fester inside him.
After breakfast, he found himself outside, the cool air brushing against his skin, bringing him back to the words from earlier. The system, that strange chart he had seen. It was as if it had given him a second chance, but he felt no stronger now than before. The sword had still been too heavy, the magic nowhere to be found. He scanned the empty space around him, wondering if that chart would reappear.
"Come on, chart… show yourself," he muttered, casting his gaze in every direction.
Nothing happened. A cold, hollow feeling crept up his spine. He tried again, more firmly. "System, come."
This time, the chart flickered into existence, hovering there like a ghostly message: Kill and Gain.
The words glowed a sickly green, like something festering. Kill and gain? he thought, his heart racing. Was this some sort of sick joke? But he knew what it meant.
His mind turned over the idea. If he needed to kill, there was one type of creature he could handle. Goblins. He knew they sometimes roamed near the forest's edge, where shadows pooled in the early morning.
Arming himself with a dagger, Kane slipped out of the palace grounds and into the forest. The air grew colder the deeper he went, branches reaching out like skeletal hands, snagging at his clothes. After a while, he spotted one—a lone goblin, green and mottled, prowling through the leaves with a low growl.
He crept forward, gripping the dagger so tight his knuckles went white. He was close enough to smell the rot on the goblin's breath. This is it, he thought. This is my chance.
With a silent breath, he lunged forward, aiming for the goblin's back. But in a heartbeat, it twisted, dodging his strike with a speed that made his stomach lurch.
The goblin turned to face him, its yellow eyes gleaming with a sick, twisted intelligence. And then it grinned. The goblin let out a guttural screech, the kind that sank into his skin like ice water. A rustle, a snarl. Kane's heart skipped as more goblins slinked from the shadows—two, three, four—until he was surrounded.
They watched him, smirking with wicked delight. He had thought he was hunting, but he'd walked straight into a trap.