Alan's eyes flashed with resolve as he closed the distance between himself and his victim, another goblin.
Its golden eyes locked onto his, a snarling, animalistic grin spreading across its face. The rusty shortsword it held gleamed in the dim light of the dungeon. The goblin raised it with a savage yell, ready to strike.
Unlike before, when fear had clung to him like a shadow, Alan now stood taller, his breath steady as he focused.
His heart pounded, but not from terror. It was the pulse of adrenaline — fueled by necessity and desperation. He wasn't the same person who had first entered this dungeon.
His fear had been suppressed, buried beneath the weight of what he needed to do.
'If I don't do this,' Alan thought, his crimson eyes glowing faintly, 'if I don't push myself to the limit, I won't be able to protect her... I won't be able to pay off Mom's bills, or keep my sister in school.,'
His sister's face flashed in his mind. Her wide, hopeful eyes always glimmering when she talked about her future.
She wanted to be a Scholar. She wanted to make a difference, but that dream was slipping further out of reach every day.
They had been scraping by for years — barely enough to cover the medical costs for their mother's treatments, let alone school fees.
If Alan couldn't bring in enough money from these dungeon runs, everything would come crashing down.
The goblin's sword swung toward him with a hiss, sharp and fast, but Alan reacted in the blink of an eye.
He pivoted, narrowly dodging the blade as it slashed through the air just inches from his face.
The speed of it made his heart race even faster, but Alan's focus was straight and fierce. He wasn't going to back down now.
'I owe so much,' Alan thought, gritting his teeth as he closed the gap. 'The medical bills for Mom… the debt… my sister's education. I need more cores.'
Alan's sword was in his hand, cold steel in the palm of his grip. The weapon felt strangely familiar now, almost like an extension of his arm.
It was small but deadly, perfectly suited for close combat. The goblin lunged again, slashing wildly with its shortsword.
But Alan was already there. With a swift movement, he drove the sword forward, plunging it into the goblin's throat.
The impact was solid, and the creature's eyes bulged as it let out a strangled scream, the blood pouring out in an instant.
Alan didn't hesitate. He yanked the sword free and slammed it back down, burying it deeper into the goblin's skull with brutal efficiency.
His heart pounded in his chest, but there was no time to think, no time to second-guess himself.
The goblin's body twitched beneath him, but Alan didn't stop. He wiped the blood from his face with a trembling hand, the sticky warmth clinging to his skin as he positioned the sword one more time.
He struck again, carving through the creature's head with quick, practiced movements. There was no room for mercy. Not here. Not in this dungeon, where every moment counted.
He exhaled shakily as the goblin went still. Blood soaked the ground beneath it, and Alan stared down at the lifeless body.
His hands shook. He felt a tightness in his chest, the weight of what he'd just done settling in.
But the sting of guilt was fleeting. He couldn't afford to feel it for long. Not when there was so much at stake.
He reached into the goblin's disfigured skull, pulling out the glowing orb — the beast's core.
The small, pulsing sphere was warm to the touch, a reminder of the life that had been drained. It was the reason they were here.
The cores could be sold for money, and gold meant survival. Alan pocketed the orb, then wiped his blade on the goblin's tunic before sheathing it.
"More," he muttered under his breath, voice hoarse.
He didn't feel triumphant. He didn't feel anything but the gnawing, insistent pressure of his responsibilities.
His fingers were still trembling as he took a moment to steady himself, but there was no time to linger. The others were moving on.
Alan turned to face them, eyes briefly scanning the group as they finished off the remaining goblins.
David had already dispatched another one, his movements swift and controlled. Unlike Alan, David's efficiency was almost clinical — precise, clean, and quick like that of a Monster.
The difference between them was glaring. David wasn't rattled by the violence; he didn't hesitate, didn't flinch. For him, it was routine. A job to be done.
Alan couldn't help but feel a pang of envy. He wasn't there yet. Not by a long shot.
The others were busy gathering the cores from their fallen enemies, some of them smiling with the satisfaction of a job well done. Alan did the same, collecting the six cores he had managed to gather.
It wasn't a bad haul, but it wasn't enough. Not by a long shot.
He still had debts to pay, and the money he'd make from selling these cores wasn't going to cover it.
The thought of his mother's medical bills and his sister's school fees made his chest tighten.
'I need more,'Alan thought, his gaze flickering over the group.
They were making quick work of the goblins, but Alan wasn't sure if it would be enough to cover everything.
He needed to keep pushing. The pressure to perform, to come back with enough cores to make a difference, weighed on him like a heavy cloak.
The Nighthound appeared beside him, its dark form materializing out of the shadows. The beast had been with him from the start, loyal and silent, always by his side. It dropped another core at his feet, the orb's light pulsating softly in the dimness of the dungeon. Alan knelt, picking it up without a word.
"Thanks," he murmured to the creature, though he wasn't sure if it even understood him. It didn't matter. The Nighthound was a friend, just like his sword, his only true ally in this fight.
He glanced over at David again, who was already preparing to move deeper into the dungeon. The others were ready, packed, and focused.
Alan's thoughts were still heavy with the weight of his responsibilities, but he forced himself to take the next step.
There was no choice but to move forward.