Chapter 39: Beyond the Breaking Point
I stare up at his looming form, but there is no fear. No despair. The rush of Primal Berserk still surges through me, a twisted symphony of rage, numbness, and exultation. My time is running out. Each passing second carves another mark toward my inevitable demise.
But I am not dead yet.
My fingers tighten around my sword's hilt, and with what little strength remains, I thrust it forward. The blade grazes his foot, slicing through tendon. A desperate strike. A doomed attempt at slaughter. Yet, there is a strange bliss that comes with this state, even in the face of death, even as my body is in tatters, my mind soars elsewhere, high above, untethered by pain or fear.
The mercenary captain lets out a sharp cry as his stance crumbles. He crashes to the ground, and I claw my way forward, dragging my mutilated body toward him. One arm. One leg. My bloodied blade scrapes against the rough cobblestone, carving a trail of crimson in my wake.
His sword swings wildly, desperation evident in his strikes. A flash of steel cuts across my cheek, splitting flesh. I barely register it.
I climb atop him, pressing him into the dirt. His eyes, once filled with fire, now flicker with something else, realization. He understands what is coming.
A slow, painful end.
My blade plunges deep into his chest. His breath hitches. His body trembles. Then, the light in his eyes dims, his life draining into the dark void around us.
I glance at the countdown. My vision begins to blur.
[Time left on Primal Berserk: 00:03…]
I don't know how many enemies are left. I don't know if I'll even stay conscious when this ends. But if I'm lucky, maybe, just maybe, the darkness will last long enough for me to slip away.
The timer hits zero.
Agony. Pure. Unrelenting. Absolute.
It consumes me instantly. Every nerve, every muscle fiber ignites in white-hot pain, as if my very existence is being flayed apart from the inside out. My lungs seize, my heartbeat pounds like a war drum, and my body writhes against the invisible force crushing me. It's not just exhaustion, it's a grotesque retribution for pushing beyond my limits.
Sound distorts. My own ragged breaths morph into warped echoes. The world tilts and fractures. My limbs feel like they are being torn apart, each muscle fiber unraveling into raw, exposed pain. My vision tunnels.
I'm going to die.
The thought takes hold, digging its claws deep into my psyche. Fear surges in, more suffocating than the pain itself. My mind thrashes, desperate for a solution, anything, but my body refuses to move. This is it.
Then, a flicker. A memory buried beneath the suffering.
The shop.
With the last shreds of my will, I force the interface open. The menu blurs, shaking as I fight against the pull of unconsciousness. If I close my eyes now, I'll never wake up.
[Items: Healing Orb, Skill Orb] [Total Points: 104]
The words barely register. My hand trembles violently as I select the Healing Orb.
[Healing Orb] [Type: Item] [Details: Heals all physical wounds. Does not heal wounds inflicted by S-Grade or higher magic or aura.] [Cost: 100 Points] [Available: 3]
I try to focus, but the pain is too much. The screen wavers, I can't…
Darkness floods my vision.
And then—a glow.
A faint red light pulses in the palm of my one remaining hand. The orb.
I muster every last ounce of strength and crush it.
Silence.
Nothing.
For a moment, I drift in the void.
A whisper of something… something lost. A fragmented memory, slipping through my fingers. A presence? A voice? No, it's gone before I can grasp it.
Then—I wake.
Moonlight spills across my face, cold and indifferent. I push myself upright, gasping. My body… whole. My arm, my leg, restored.
The battlefield is unrecognizable.
Blood coats the streets. Corpses litter the ground, soldiers, civilians, all torn apart. The scent of death lingers thick in the air, a putrid stench of decay and slaughter. Yet, amidst the carnage… something moves.
A hunched figure, dragging away a dismembered limb.
My eyes narrow.
[Race: Goblin]
[Level: 7 (84.6%)]
[Title: Coward]
[Skills: Dumb (D), Frail (D), Weak (E), Sly (F), Stab (F), Dagger Arts (F)]
[Stats: Str-10, Agi-21, End-12, Int-3, Luck-1]
[Status effects: Delighted]
What the fuck?
I scan the area. More of them. Small, wiry figures darting through the remains, their thin fingers prying open ribcages, their sharp teeth gnawing on flesh. Some laugh in high-pitched, gurgling tones. Others drag away severed limbs as trophies. My gut twists.
How? Why are goblins here?
I snap my attention to my status screen.
[Total Points: 154]
I freeze. That's higher than before. But… I spent everything. Didn't I?
My gaze shifts to the quest log.
It's gone.
Success? But how?
My memory is hazy, like trying to recall a dream slipping through my fingers. How much time—
The screen flickers.
[Adjustment Period: 9 Days 03:13:23…]
Three days.
I've been unconscious for three days.
The realization settles in, cold and heavy. The city, it's fallen.
I exhale sharply. Divine intervention? A cruel joke. If anything, whatever brought this place to ruin is just another hurdle for me to overcome.
I force myself to my feet, brushing off the last remnants of disorientation. The night air is crisp, carrying the distant crackle of flames.
Well…
Whatever happens next…
If this world keeps throwing me back into the abyss, fine. I'll crawl my way out. Again and again.