The tunnel spat him out into an open chamber, and he froze.
A warm, golden glow washed over him that reminded him of the summer sun.
His eyes widened as the stone under his boots gave way to soft grass, tall stalks swaying gently as though stirred by a breeze that came from nowhere. The air itself felt different here, carrying a crisp, clean scent unlike the musty odor of the dungeon tunnels he had grown accustomed to. It was a sensation of pure, untainted nature, a stark contrast to the rough stone and monstrous enemies he had just faced.
He blinked hard, half-expecting the vision to vanish.
Yet the scene held:
A vast stretch of grass rippling like a summer field, a stream cutting through it with water so clear it shimmered. A sense of unease mixed with the wonder. The beauty of this place felt unnatural, an impossible oasis hidden deep within the dungeon.
Hiroki turned in a slow circle, searching for the obvious, but found nothing. No sky, no sun or lanterns, just sheer walls of jagged rock rising high, as if the field had been caged inside the belly of the dungeon.
"The light was from… wait—I don't know," he whispered, his own voice sounding small against the chamber's vastness. It wasn't coming from anywhere. It was simply there, bathing the entire expanse in impossible daylight.
And then he saw it.
Beyond the grass and the glittering stream, a door loomed, a monstrous thing in its scale, dwarfing everything around it. Its surface stretched upward like the side of a fifteen-story building, towering over the chamber with an authority that made his chest tighten.
Hiroki's fingers unconsciously clenched tighter around his sword.
Whatever this was, he had stepped into something far bigger than another dungeon corridor.
The sheer size of the door made his previous struggles feel insignificant. He had faced monsters, but this felt like an encounter with a god-like force, a final, insurmountable challenge.
He had no plan for going to the huge door at all, he just wanted to rest next to the stream and drink water while tending to his wounds.
But there was a risk involved with entering such a place, but he had been traveling for four kilometers and couldn't take any more.
He needed to rest.
He entered, finding himself on a shaky, rocky platform that surrounded the plain.
The platform, about 10 meters away from the plains and 2 meters high, had cracks where water seeped through.
A single staircase led downward, and a lone blue water droplet fell from the ceiling onto his head.
"Hmm," he said. The water was literally blue.
"I should enter the grass fields."
He went down to the plains, and he entered the tall grasses that covered him from being seen and travelled, choosing a spot close to the sparkling water.
He sat down and rested for a few hours, tending to his wounds. He bandaged his legs and palms, grateful for the small amount of beef jerky in his pouch. The grasses were surprisingly normal to the touch, feeling like regular grass despite the strange environment.
He leaned over and took a sip from the stream. The water tasted crisp and cool, with a subtle tingling sensation that left him feeling refreshed. After drinking, he filled his pouch with more of the water for his travels.
Rustle!
A sudden, unnatural rustle from the grass made him grab his sword and instantly cleave 90 degrees to the right. No sound followed, except for the sickening thud of a goblin's head dropping to the ground.
Then, the shadows shifted. Five more goblins rose from the grass in a half-circle formation.
He tightened his grip on his sword, fatigue clawing at his arms. He could only see the shadow they had made in reflection to the grass as the grass had covered them but they were no match for him.
Cleave after cleave after cleave, he moved with deadly efficiency, and the only sound was the fall of their bodies. He made a last swing on the remaining shadow behind the grass.
Clang!
A high-pitched clang echoed through the air as his sword was instantly parried, and a sudden, painful jolt shot up his arm, making his fingers twitch.
"It got parried!" he exclaimed, shocked.
The shadow slowly revealed itself. It was by no means a normal goblin; its height was equal to his own, its muscles corded with strength. This was an intelligent foe.
It moved with deliberate, practiced motions, blocking his every attack with a skill far beyond a common goblin. He lunged, but it sidestepped with an eerie calm, its eyes calculating his every move. Every strike he threw was either parried or dodged with a minimal movement.
His old wounds screamed with every effort, and he could feel his strength and stamina fading.
He tried to stab it once more...
Clang!
He was losing the fight, and he knew it. Just as he was about to retreat, a second figure emerged from the grass—another intelligent goblin of the same size. The two of them flanked him perfectly, working as a seamless unit.
Suddenly he saw an opening!
It was clear he couldn't win this fight. Towards the gap he sprinted as fast as he could then shifting his direction towards the exit, the image blurring against his speed, but it was too late.
Fifty goblins and twenty-three wolves surrounded the exit of the grass field, their glowing eyes reflecting the eerie light of the dungeon.
"Shit, is this the end!" he muttered.
"What am I supposed to do?" he yelled. "I might take on the fifty goblins all by myself if I were healthy, but on top of that, there are those twenty-three wolves and two elite goblins? Damn it!"
As they say, misfortunes never come alone. A huge wolf that dwarfed all the others appeared. It was impossible for a wolf to be this size; it was as tall as he was while standing on all four legs.
"If I somehow manage to win this, I will go buy a lottery ticket."
"Let's go!" he screamed.
The goblins and wolves got excited, making terrifying and disgusting noises.
They all stood on the ten-meter platform, arranged in a semicircle and looking upon the fighting area. They chattered and cackled, their eyes gleaming with bloodlust as if they were watching a show.
The two goblin elites stood opposite him. The one on the left was taller and leaner, with a jagged scar running across its face. It held a rusty, oversized cleaver that dripped with a dark fluid. He knew it was the one who parried his attack earlier.
The second elite, shorter and more muscular, had a horn that was broken off at the tip and a shield made from a crude piece of metal. It swung a heavy, spiked club.
It was a duel between him and the two goblin elites.
The goblin with the broken horn charged first, its spiked club swinging wide. He parried the blow with his circular shield, the impact jarring his arm.
The second goblin, the one with the scarred face, was faster, darting to his right. It aimed its cleaver low, and he felt a searing pain as the rusty blade sliced across his already injured leg.
He stumbled back, his shield and sword clattering against the ground. The smaller goblins on the platform roared with delight, their horrifying cheers echoing as he fell.
He immediately rose and stood. The goblins were clearly having fun, and he was nothing but their entertainment.
But suddenly, an idea struck him.
He dropped his sword and shield to the ground and took a boxing stance.
The elite goblins looked at each other with confusion, as did everyone else. The goblins thought he had no hidden weapons, and even if he did, they wouldn't be as powerful as the ones he had laid down on the floor, meaning he had chosen hand-to-hand combat.
As if on cue, the two elites also dropped their weapons.
The entire audience became ecstatic. The wolves continued to howl. This was going to be a bloodbath, but whose?
The broken-horn goblin swung a wild hook at his face. He ducked under and countered with a sharp jab to the jaw, but the brute barely flinched.
The tall one followed with a heavy kick to his ribs, the impact rattling through his guard as he blocked just in time.
Snarling, the tall goblin lunged again, trying to wrap him up. He slipped aside, parrying the grab and answering with a straight punch, but the scarred goblin weaved back, evading.
The pressure pushed him between them, their hulking frames closing in like the jaws of a beast. Both swung at once, fists crashing into his ribs. Blood sprayed from his mouth.
Yet at the same instant, his fists snapped outward, a brutal double punch to their cheekbones.
They smiled. He smiled as well, grinning through the blood, his voice low:
"Dumb and dumber, eh? You've lived enough."
His fists lit up, and a jarring blast of electricity collided with their bones. The Shock tore through flesh and bone, their necks snapping with the surge.
In that frozen heartbeat, he ripped two daggers from his belt and slashed clean through.
Thud.
Thud.
Two heads rolled.
The arena fell silent. He had won the 2v1. What. A. Chad.
The arena fell silent. After all, it was to their prediction that he possessed no 'magic.'
He lifted his head toward the crowd. The goblins' faces were burning with rage, and the giant wolf's eyes were locked on him with bloodlust.
"Run," he thought. Despite there being no way he could outrun them, he paced and grabbed his sword, ready to fight to the death.
The moment he turned his head to look at the wolf, a single water droplet fell on his head.
He remembered.
"I see, i might really live!" he muttered.
The ferocious beast was running toward him. He crouched, using both hands to dig into the ground.
"Shock."
A blinding white light erupted from his hands, the raw electrical energy illuminating the entire platform. The electricity coursed through the ground, traveling instantly through the water that had seeped into the cracks, turning the platform into a brilliant web of light.
With a deafening sound that blasted their eardrums, the rocks shattered. The ground crumbled beneath the horde of goblins and wolves, sending them plummeting into the darkness below.
Including him, they were sent to the abyss.