As he ran through the gate, it felt like his body blurred and was rebuilt atom by atom somewhere else—like every atom twisted before realigning.
"Wow… so that's what teleportation feels like."
He took a few steps forward, and the air instantly shifted—freezing, sharp, like needles pricking his skin. His breath fogged.
"Damn… it's freezing in here."
Suddenly—fwump, fwump, fwump—a row of torches lit up on both sides of the stone corridor, chasing the shadows away with trembling orange flames.
"Grandpa… how much did this dungeon even cost?"
Feeling exposed, he gripped the sword on his back and unsheathed it. It rang softly, the hum of metal trembling in the air. The blade itself seemed too sharp—like it could cut thought.
"It feels... perfect. Like it was forged just for me."
"Grandpa's got an insane collection..."
Before he could admire it further—something moved.
A small goblin burst out from the shadows, snarling. The torchlight flickered and for a split second, it vanished. Them BAM!! it reappeared behind him.
Golden eyes glowed in the dark. Its skin was slick, green, and wrinkled. Its jagged teeth clacked as it screamed.
"AHH!! Human! Human!!"
Startled by its speed, he instinctively focused—and something appeared in front of him.
System message
[Goblin Scout]
Rank: F
Level: 14
Type: Rookie Goblin Knight
Combat Style: Burst Assault
"A system window...? But I don't even HAVE a system."
A rough, echoing voice rang out from what sounded like an intercom—deep, amused.
"Those are the effects of my expertise."
"Grandpa?"
"Of course. You think I'd let you walk into a dungeon unsupervised? That system overlay's one of my tweaks. Oh, and break my sword and I'll break you—it's my favorite."
"Yeah, yeah... thanks for the death warning."
He barely finished his sentence before the goblin lunged. Its back arched like a cat, blade low, saliva dripping off its jagged weapon.
"AHH! Not even a 'ready, set, go'?! That's just cruel!"
"STAB!! GUT YOU!! HAAA!!"
In a flash, he swung with precision—and cleaved it in half. Blood painted the floor in an arc. The goblin twitched once, then went still.
"Okay. One down. No idea how many left…"
He crept forward, every step deliberate. The sound of distant voices came through the stone.
"Graaaagh, hungry, hungry!"
"Crave!! Human! Human meat!!"
"They're just behind this wall... okay, I'll flank left—"
Clink.
He froze. His dagger hit the floor, bouncing once.
"...Oh god I'm an idiot."
Suddenly, a goblin dropped from above, and two more slid in from the sides, surrounding him like a trained unit.
He raised his blade, heart thumping.
"H-Hey, stay back or... or else!"
He focused—and three system windows blinked into view.
[Goblin Scout]
Rank: E Level: 21
Type: Rookie Goblin Knight
Skill: Cursed Swordsmanship Lv. 9
[Goblin Scout]
Rank: E Level: 21
Type: Rookie Goblin Knight
Skill: Blitz Archer Lv. 12
[Goblin Scout]
Rank: D Level: 34
Type: Rookie Goblin Knight
Skill: Brawler Lv. 14
"Great. They're all stronger than the last one."
Without warning, he lashed out—a perfect kick that sent the sword-user flying into a wall, a reflection of his training, But just then—twang!
An arrow grazed his cheek.
"Tch—damn that stings!"
He slashed again—but the arrow-goblin was fast. Then, the third goblin—massive, brawler type—grabbed his blade with bare hands. Its grip was so strong the metal groaned.
It stood just as tall, but bulkier. Eyes full of hate.
And then—a punch.
It cocked its fist back, muscles bulging—and time slowed.
He saw it coming, but it was fast, way to fast for something of that size,his body wouldn't move.
"Dodge... I need to dodge—"
The fist came like a meteor.
BANG!
Everything went black.
He moved stealthily through the halls, keeping low and quiet, careful not to make the same mistake twice.
The walls reeked of damp rot, and the light was thin—barely enough to track shadows.
Suddenly, someone bumped into him.
Instinctively, he raised his fist—then stopped inches from the creature's head.
A child.
A goblin child.
Tiny. Barely four feet tall. Hunched over. Skin stretched too tightly over bone, ribs pushing outward like cracked blades. There was no weight to him, no light in his eyes. He looked worse than dead.
Josen lowered his hand, frowning. "Hmm... you're not worth killing. And you look young."
He stepped back. "Well. Goodbye."
As he turned to go, a weak hand grabbed the strap of his bag.
"Pl—please... sir, help! Help!
Mom... Captured... big! Bad!
Save h-her!"
He froze.
"You want my help?"
The goblin nodded quickly, desperate and shaking.
Josen sighed. "We can't stay here. Someone might stroll by. Get on my back."
The frail thing climbed on slowly, gripping weakly. He felt light—too light. It was like carrying a shadow. The kid was half-dead already. He needed food, fast.
"Hey, boi. Where's a good place to hide?"
The goblin lifted a thin hand and pointed toward a nearby shed. Josen scanned the hallway—no traps, no patrols—and slipped inside.
The room was dusty, dark, and cold. An old brown table had been pushed against the door like a makeshift barricade.
He set the goblin down and dropped beside him.
"Ahh... this is tiring." He ran a hand through his hair. "Hey, what's your name?"
"Zi... Zigmo," came the weak reply.
"Zigmo, huh?" Josen smiled faintly. "Nice to meet you. You must be starving."
He dug into his bag, rummaging through compartments until he found a preserved ham leg.
"Here."
Zigmo stared at it for a second, then began to eat. Slowly, cautiously. Each bite brought more color to his face. His body started to fill out. A little weight. A little life.
"There, there. Eat up," Josen said, watching. "You looked like you needed it."
Suddenly, Zigmo stood and gave a deep bow.
"Th-thank you, kind sir! For restoring my strength. I—please—"
"Whoa, chill," Josen said, holding up a hand. "You're too hyper. Just eat."
He waited a moment, then let the silence stretch before asking,
"What happened to your mom?"
Zigmo stiffened. His gaze dropped to the ground. He didn't answer right away.
"She... didn't do what they wanted."
Josen raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
"She was important," Zigmo muttered. "People used to cheer when she sang. She fought too."
He paused.
"But she picked my dad. Someone they didn't like. Said he was wasting her potential."
Josen leaned forward. "What happened to him?"
"They sent him to war," Zigmo said softly. "And kept sending him. He never made it back."
There was a bitter quiet.
"After that... they took her. Said she broke the rules."
His voice trembled, but his eyes were dry.
"People who spoke up? Gone. Or worse."
He lifted his shirt slightly to show an old scar near his ribs—jagged, purple at the edges.
"They did this when I tried to find her."
Josen stared.
"They poisoned me, I'm currently being Hunted. ," Zigmo whispered
He looked up again. And now there was fire.
"She's still alive. I know it. I just... need help."
Josen said nothing at first.