Haru's breath came in ragged gasps as he staggered through the dense underbrush, his legs burning with exhaustion.
The sound of snapping twigs and guttural snarls echoed behind him—proof that the goblins were still on his trail. He knew he had pushed too far, taken too many risks, but he couldn't stop now. Not when death lurked so close behind.
His body ached from dozens of cuts and bruises. His ragged tunic, once clean, was now torn and soaked with grime and sweat. The wooden club he had scavenged earlier felt heavy in his grip, its crude weight a pitiful defense against the relentless creatures hunting him.
They had found him too quickly. He had barely gotten the chance to plan his attack before the horde overwhelmed him. There were too many of them—at least a dozen small, green-skinned monsters, each wielding rusted weapons and grinning with razor-sharp teeth. Goblins were supposed to be the weakest monsters in the game-like system they had been thrown into, but for someone like him—someone without a special talent—each one was a nightmare.
A sharp pain lanced through his side. He had taken a dagger slash during the fight, a wound that now throbbed with every step. Blood oozed down his ribs, soaking his shirt. He gritted his teeth and pushed forward, forcing his body to move even as his vision swam.
His system interface remained silent, showing no special skills, no abilities, nothing that could help him survive. The only thing he had was his willpower—and it was rapidly draining.
The goblins screeched behind him, their clawed feet pounding against the dirt as they closed in. Haru stumbled into a small clearing surrounded by jagged rocks. A dead end.
"No… not here. Not like this."
He whirled around, gripping his club with both hands. His breathing was erratic, his fingers numb. The goblins emerged from the shadows, their beady red eyes glowing in the dim light.
They were laughing.
The leader, slightly taller than the rest, twirled a crude short sword in its grip. Its sharp teeth parted into a wicked grin as it barked an order in its guttural tongue.
The goblins charged.
Haru swung his club with everything he had, catching the first goblin across the skull. The creature crumpled to the ground with a sickening crack, but before he could revel in the victory, two more leaped at him.
A jagged knife slashed across his arm, sending a searing pain through his flesh. He barely had time to scream before another goblin's spear thrust toward his stomach.
He twisted, dodging at the last second. His heart pounded like a war drum, drowning out all rational thought.
Fight. Survive.
He brought his club down on another goblin's face, but his movements were slowing. His arms felt like lead. His wounds bled freely now, staining the dirt beneath him.
Another goblin lunged, catching him off guard. A rusty blade buried itself deep into his thigh.
Haru's knees buckled. His vision blurred. His weapon slipped from his grasp, landing in the dirt with a soft thud.
I'm going to die.
The goblins sensed his weakness. They began toying with him, jabbing at his exposed arms and legs with small, cruel cuts, chittering in amusement at his pain.
Haru clenched his fists. He refused to let them have the satisfaction.
No. I refuse to be weak.
Summoning the last dregs of his strength, he reached for his fallen weapon—only for a goblin to kick it away.
His mind raced. There had to be another way out. He scanned his surroundings, desperately searching for an escape.
Then he saw it.
A gaping hole in the earth. A deep crevice hidden by the shadows of the rocks.
A fall like that could kill him. But staying here would kill him.
The goblins moved in for the final strike.
Haru made his choice.
With a final, desperate lunge, he threw himself backward into the abyss.
The air rushed past him, the cold wind howling in his ears as he plummeted into the darkness. His stomach twisted, his limbs flailed—then pain exploded through his body as he slammed into an uneven rock ledge.
His descent slowed as he tumbled down the cavern wall, hitting jagged edges and loose stones, before finally landing hard on the damp ground below.
Everything went black.
For a moment, there was only silence.
Then pain.
A raw, burning agony spread through his body. His limbs ached, his head throbbed, and his wounds still bled freely. But he was alive.
Groaning, he pushed himself up on shaky arms. Darkness surrounded him, save for the faint, eerie glow of bioluminescent fungi clinging to the cavern walls. He reached for his system interface, but it only displayed his status:
HP: 7/45 (Critical Condition)
Stamina: 2/25 (Exhausted)
Mana: 0/0 (Unavailable)
A weak chuckle escaped his lips. He had barely survived.
But he had survived.
Haru forced himself to stand, leaning against the rough stone for support. He didn't know where he had landed, but it was clear this wasn't just any cave.
The walls were covered in strange markings, ancient symbols that pulsed faintly in the dim light. Stalactites hung like jagged teeth from the ceiling, and the floor was uneven and treacherous.
He wasn't alone.
A distant chittering sound echoed through the cavern.
His blood turned to ice.
Something was down here.
Forcing his battered body forward, he limped deeper into the unknown, each step a battle against the agony in his limbs.
He needed shelter. He needed a weapon.
Most of all—he needed to survive.
As he ventured further into the darkness, a single thought burned in his mind:
This world wanted him dead.
But he wasn't going to die.
Not yet.