Chapter 9 — Into the Unknown
Sam was momentarily stunned by what he saw.
The world around him was different.
Gone were the cracked walls, the smell of blood, the chaos of his ruined home. In their place stretched a vast, picturesque landscape—blue skies unmarred by smoke, clouds so white they looked painted, and far off, a chain of jagged mountains shimmered beneath the sun's warmth. Crystal waters snaked between them, glinting like molten glass.
For a brief moment, Sam forgot to breathe.
Everything looked too perfect. Too still.
Everywhere he looked gave the uncanny feeling of standing on an island—a self-contained world cut off from everything else.
"Where… is this place?" he murmured. "Where am I?"
Turning around, his eyes caught the rift hanging in the air behind him—a swirling wound in space, spinning slowly like liquid smoke. Through it, he could still make out the faint outline of his house, flickering as if seen through water.
Then came the chime.
A translucent screen hovered before his eyes, its letters burning faintly in the air:
⸻
[System Notification]
You have entered an Unnamed Dungeon.
Rank: E
⸻
Sam's eyes lingered on the words. The only clear thing was that this was a dungeon—and its rank, one level above his own. That gave him a tiny flicker of hope.
"If it's only E-rank… maybe I can handle it."
He glanced toward the mountains again. There was nowhere else to go. From where he stood, he could only see a vast stretch of water around.
Drawing in a steady breath, he started walking. Each step stirred fine grains of white sand beneath his shoes as he crossed the shore and into the greener slopes.
The island was largely empty, populated only by small creatures like rodents and insects. His goal was to find Serena, so without hesitation, he headed toward the mountains.
The further he moved, the less tranquil everything became. Small signs began to appear—broken twigs, half-buried footprints, even faint claw marks against stones.
Something had been here. Recently.
By the time he reached the base of the nearest mountain, he found more traces—paw prints and tiny humanoid tracks crisscrossing the sand. He crouched beside them, running his fingers through the faint depressions. Goblins.
He followed the trail until the trees thickened again, and soon, movement caught his eye.
Five goblins trudged through the underbrush ahead—small, wiry figures clad in mismatched armor. One carried a crude pike fashioned from a beast's thigh bone, the sharpened tip glinting faintly in the sunlight. Their green skin was slick with sweat and grime.
A grim smile curved Sam's lips. "Found you." If they were here, then Serena couldn't be far.
He ducked behind a jagged rock, heart pounding as he watched them.
He could wait. Plan. Take them one by one. But time wasn't on his side.
He exhaled sharply, then moved.
In a blur, he closed the distance, his boosted agility turning him into a streak of motion. Before the goblins even realized he was there, his fist smashed into the nearest one's head. The creature was hurled backward into two others with a wet thud.
The remaining goblins froze in confusion for a half heartbeat—clearly not expecting the ambush—then shrieked and lunged.
Their swings were wild, desperate, full of rage and no discipline.
Sam sidestepped the first, snatching the bone pike straight from its hands before driving his knuckles into its throat. The goblin collapsed, choking, as Sam spun the weapon experimentally. It felt… natural. The weight was just about right.
The second rushed toward him, wooden mace raised high. Sam thrust the pike forward. It sank deep into the goblin's gut with a crunch. The creature's eyes went wide, mouth opening in a strangled scream as green blood spilled down its torso.
He yanked the weapon free just in time to parry another swing. The clash jolted his arm, but unlike before, he didn't falter.
He drove a kick into the attacker's chest, sending it sprawling into its comrades.
Four left now—regrouping, snarling, their eyes glowing with raw hate. The one he'd disarmed earlier coughed blood, clutching its mangled throat, yet still staggered forward.
Sam's grip tightened around the bone pike. A faint glimmer of madness flickered behind his eyes.
"Come on," he muttered. "Let's finish this."
The goblins roared and charged.
And Sam—he moved to meet them.