Chapter 2: Goblin Hunt
[Unknown Time — Unknown Location]
The once-warm, glowing chambers had grown cold; the brightness had dimmed to a faint glimmer.
He lay on the ground, aware of that much. The hard, cold surface pressed against his back, his vision blurred, and the sharp scent of iodine told him he wasn't in the library. This was somewhere else.
Something felt off. There was a strange sensation, as though he were missing something important. Fear crept in as he hesitated to open his eyes, uncertain of what he might see.
But if he didn't, the mystery would only deepen. With a trace of anxiety tightening in his chest, he began to pry his eyes open.
It was immediately clear—this wasn't his room, nor any place he'd ever seen at Hogwarts.
The space resembled a crude cave, its walls roughly hewn. Torches flickered weakly, their light too dim to fully illuminate the chamber, casting just enough glow to prevent stumbling.
'Where am I?' he thought, gingerly lifting himself off the floor. As he moved, the strange feeling of absence became clearer.
"My clothes..."
He was completely naked, lying on the cold, rocky ground. Panic flared as he quickly glanced around, hoping to find his clothes nearby. But as his gaze darted across the cave, he saw only two items close to him.
Unexpected, yet disturbingly logical.
"The book."
The first item was the very book that had caused this entire ordeal—a book he now knew was cursed.
The second brought a faint smile to his face.
"At least something I recognize."
It was his wand—a rare, albeit notoriously unlucky, Elder wood wand with a phoenix feather core. Slightly yielding, and of a respectable length: 13 ¾ inches.
He gripped it tightly, finding comfort in its familiarity.
Finally, he stood up straight, taking deep, steadying breaths to calm his racing mind and pounding heart.
He wanted to reach for the book again, but fear held him back. There was no doubt in his mind—the book had brought him here. But the real fear lay in what might happen if he let his curiosity take him further down this path.
'Do I even have a choice?'
He knew the answer: he didn't.
He had no idea where he was, what dangers might lurk nearby, or how to escape. Well, almost no idea. There was a narrow pathway to his right, just wide enough for his twelve-year-old frame to slip through.
The only problem? It looked dangerous.
"I have to do something."
He couldn't just stand there, frozen in fear. If he wanted to get back, he needed the book—and he needed to take that path.
With firmer resolve, he picked up the book once more, eyes darting toward the dark passage. A decision weighed on him: should he open the book now or take the path first? After a moment's hesitation, he realized—since the book had brought him here, it made sense to consult it first.
Slowly, he reached to flip open the cover.
Or tried to.
Until he heard footsteps from the pathway to the right.
This immediately set him on edge. He tensed, holding his wand ready while his left hand gripped the book tightly.
He didn't shout, nor did he make a sound. Instead, he let the footsteps grow louder, moving closer to his position before making any rash decisions.
'What in the devil's name is that?'
Shriveled, hairless skin, a tiny body with a massive bald head, long ears, and dressed in nothing but a loincloth. Its skin was a dark, nasty green.
Its eyes glowed purple in the dim room, and its mouth, filled with jagged teeth infested with maggots around the gums, spread into a foul grin.
It was a creature Damien had never seen, yet it looked disturbingly familiar.
No, he knew what it resembled, but he couldn't associate this filthy creature with those prideful beings.
'Goblins…'
There was no denying it.
The oversized head compared to the body, the pointy ears, the wrinkled skin.
It was similar to a goblin but far uglier, fouler, and more barbaric.
Yes, barbaric.
It held a blood-smeared club—clearly not used just on rats and pests.
'Trouble.'
Damien knew instantly that he needed to escape before the goblin turned violent.
Carefully, he moved to the side, hoping the goblin would pass without noticing him. He had already guessed that it had poor vision after it glanced his way twice and ignored his presence.
'It won't notice me unless I make a sound.'
His steps were silent, soft like feathers brushing over eggshells.
One step, then another, and then another. Following that rhythm, he edged closer to the open but unlit path.
'A bit more.'
His heart thumped, his body unsteady, but he continued moving toward the path.
'Just one more—'
Or so he thought.
"Kreeee!"
As he neared the path, the filthy creature let out a screech, making Damien pale.
"Darn it!"
He leapt to the left as the goblin's club swung past, missing him by mere inches.
"Kreeeeeee!"
The goblin, now furious, was heaving as it focused on him.
'But how did it—?'
Damien noticed something, a realization dawning on him.
"Kreee!"
Dodging another swing of the club, he moved toward the larger open area. He watched the goblin take deep breaths, its head swiveling as if searching.
'It can't see me!'
He understood now. The goblin hadn't detected him by sight—it had caught his scent as he drew closer.
This would be troublesome if it could track him by smell.
Thankfully, Damien observed that the goblin could only sense him when he was within a two-meter radius or if he made noise that drew the creature's attention.
'It has keen hearing and a sharp nose,' Damien thought, scanning his surroundings for anything he could use to his advantage. 'And very poor eyesight.'
He gripped his wand tightly, feeling a spark of hope ignite within him.
'I can handle this.'
The goblin moved erratically, swinging its club wildly as it attempted to catch Damien's scent.
While Damien didn't know any spell that could kill the goblin outright, he knew a few spells that could immobilize it. With his wand pointed straight ahead, he cast the one offensive spell he was most confident in—a spell Professor Flitwick had made him practice countless times.
"Stupefy!"
He shouted, sending a beam of translucent light toward the goblin. If the creature's eyesight had been any better, it might have dodged or deflected the spell. However, its physical limitations made it vulnerable to the stunning spell; it wobbled unsteadily before collapsing to the ground, unconscious.
Damien stood there, his body shaking as he stared at the motionless goblin.
'That… That thing could have killed me, couldn't it?'
He didn't need to answer; the reality was clear.
If he'd been reckless enough to move closer, it would have struck him down with that club.
He bit his lip, recognizing how close he'd come to a fatal mistake—and all because of a book.
'A cursed book!'
With frustration, he flipped through the pages, stopping at the one page that appeared filled. Gone were the words from before. Now, a single word was etched onto the page.
[Survive]
Bold and stark, the word sent a chill down his spine.
The fact that the book still bore the word 'survive' meant that this nightmare was far from over. He had to find a way out of this place—this cursed dungeon.
Gripping the book tightly, nearly tearing the pages, he set his gaze on the open path before him.
'This is terrible.'
With his wand in his right hand and the book in his left, he knew he had no choice but to face the tunnel if he wanted any chance of escape.
He swallowed hard, heart pounding, as he took his first steps forward. Each step brought him closer to the tunnel's entrance, and each one seemed to dim his vision further.
The tunnel stretched on, dark and foreboding.
"Lumos."
With a flick of his wand, a small light bloomed at the tip, bright enough to guide him through the dark passage.
His steps echoed in the silence, his anxiety building with each one.
He didn't know what dangers might lie ahead, and the massive cracks in the walls—large enough to fit a person twice his size—only made him more wary.
The tunnel was ancient. He could feel it in the crumbling walls, the moss-covered stones, and the faded remnants of paint. Everything here spoke of an era long before Hogwarts, before any structure crafted by human hands that still stood.
And he understood why it had endured.
'It's magic.'
The air was dry, his throat parched as if he were walking through a desert. The warmth and dryness grew with every step, despite the lack of sunlight.
'Magic preserves it from the ravages of time, and its isolation from human touch protects it from their greed, anger, and envy.'
After walking for what felt like hundreds of meters, he finally sensed something.
A faint sound—a screeching, grating noise echoing through the tunnel.
It wasn't unexpected, but it did stir fear within him. He recognized that sound from earlier.
'Goblins…' He held his breath, extinguishing the Lumos spell and pressing himself against the wall, not daring to move forward.
He knew goblins had poor vision, relying instead on their other senses. Their hearing was terrifyingly sharp, and they could easily catch his scent if he got within a meter or two.
'There's more than one.'
That realization made his heart pound harder. There were at least two, maybe more, and in his current state, he was no match for a group of them.
But retreat wasn't an option either. He knew that the only exit lay ahead. His one advantage was the goblins' limited eyesight.
Steeling himself, he cautiously cast another dim Lumos spell, just bright enough to make out shapes and avoid stumbling into danger.
'Only one way forward,' he noted. The tunnel twisted and turned, but no alternate paths presented themselves.
He edged along carefully, pausing at each turn to check for goblins. After several turns, the screeches grew louder, reverberating ominously through the tunnel.
And then he saw them.
Five shadowy figures moved through the farthest bend in the tunnel, their guttural screeches sending chills down his spine.
'Think!'
He had to find a way out—quickly. If he didn't, he'd be their prey, and the thought of being tortured or worse made his stomach twist.
'How can I gain an advantage?'
He searched his memory, recalling past encounters where he'd been outmatched. He'd faced bullies before—plenty of them—and somehow, he'd always managed to survive.
'Why should this be any different?' he thought, drawing strength from his resolve. 'Professor Flitwick always says that the tougher the challenge, the more creative the solution has to be.'
He tightened his grip on his wand and peeked ahead.
'Four goblins, like the one I saw before, and one that's even bigger.'
He knew he wasn't fast enough to stun them all.
'Restrain them?'
He remembered a spell—the Incarcerous spell—that could bind an opponent, but it was beyond his current skill level. At least if he wanted to bind all five at once.
'It's a fifth-year spell.'
One spell outside his year's curriculum, which he knew thanks to Professor Flitwick, was Confringo — the Blasting Curse.
Of course, the professor had taught him the spell solely for self-defense, not to harm others.
But here, harming others was the only way to protect himself.
'But I'll be completely drained if I use it.'
Such was his limited magical capacity; it might be enough to blast one goblin, perhaps two at most.
"Kreeeeeee kree!"
Hearing the screeches approaching, he knew he had to act quickly.
'Wait.'
As he watched them shuffle forward on their short legs, an idea struck him.
'Maybe…'
He pressed his hand against the tunnel wall, feeling a sudden surge of hope as he considered his plan.
'This could work!'
Taking a deep breath to steady his heart and mind, he turned his head slowly.
The goblins were close. In a few seconds, they would spot him.
Or rather…
"Oi! You ugly rats!"
They would have, if he hadn't drawn their attention himself.
"KREEE!!!"
"KREEEEEEEEE!"
'This has to work!'
His heart raced. The goblins, hearing his voice, charged toward him with raised clubs and ugly faces, stomping eagerly as they smelled the scent of prey.
'Now!'
Damien extended his wand and chanted, "Aguamenti Maxima!"
His wand turned into a water hose, dousing the mossy floor and creating slick puddles — just as he planned.
"Kreee!"
The goblins, unable to balance their short legs, slipped and tumbled face-first onto the wet floor, howling in pain.
And that gave the young wizard the perfect opportunity.
"Stupefy!"
The best spell he could cast without exhausting himself flew from his wand, hitting the goblins.
"Stupefy!"
One after another.
"Stupefy!"
Driven by the fear of death, he cast his spells faster than ever.
"Stupefy!"
He watched as the smaller goblins fell unconscious, one after the other.
However—
"Stupefy!"
"GREEE!"
The largest goblin, while pained by the spell, seemed far from defeated. Instead, it grew angrier.
"GREE!"
It staggered to its feet, glaring in Damien's direction. Though it couldn't see him, it could now smell and hear him clearly.
Yet, this didn't faze Damien.
In fact, he felt confident.
"Well, you won't be standing for long." He muttered, pointing his wand at the ceiling above the goblin. "CONFRINGO!"
This was the plan all along.
A massive explosion erupted above the goblins, targeting the roof.
"GREE—"
The goblin's eyes widened in realization, but it was too late.
The ceiling crumbled, with large chunks of rock crashing down, crushing the goblins — including the massive one.
The explosion succeeded in collapsing the roof because the magic protecting the tunnel shielded it from natural disasters, not man-made ones.
Damien knew this well.
"I-I… killed them."
He hadn't killed the previous goblin. He had never killed anything in his life.
The thought made his stomach churn, and he collapsed to the ground, feeling lightheaded.
He braced himself against the floor and threw up, unable to handle the sight of blood and flesh scattered around him.
It was a horrifying scene, one he wasn't prepared for.
Yet, he reminded himself they weren't human. They were monsters who wouldn't have hesitated to kill and devour him.
It was a necessary act.
'Monsters…' he told himself. 'They were monst— Ughhh!'
He threw up again, feeling slightly calmer afterward.
"Yes, they were monsters," he said between deep breaths. "I did what was necessary."
But then—
"Yes, you did only what was necessary."
The seductive yet also coarse and masculine voice that echoed around him sent a chill down his spine.
"W-Who?" he stammered, clutching his wand tightly.
"Someone who's here to congratulate you," the voice replied.
"For w-what?" Damien asked, pointing his wand into the darkness.
"For completing the dungeon's entrance test," the voice grew closer. "Congratulations, Damien Butler. You are now a Dungeon Explorer. And also, the newest Demon contractor."
And that's when Damien saw it.
The creature that was otherworldly, beautiful enough to evoke envy in any human, yet terrifying enough to unnerve even the bravest. It was both hauntingly dreadful and bewitchingly elegant.
Before him stood the Demon King Paimon, the 9th of the 72 Demons.