The gates slammed shut behind us, sealing the three of us inside the arena like livestock in a butcher's pen.
The monstrous goblin sniffed the air. Its nostrils flared, yellow pupils narrowing as they locked onto us. Then it grinned—its jagged tusks scraping together with a sickening screech.
A sound that promised pain.
Around us, the other races had already been forced into holding cells, their terrified whimpers echoing through the stone hall. Some clung to the bars. Others curled up and accepted their fate.
But we weren't in a cage.
We were in the center.
We were the "entertainment."
God, come on. I'd rather go to hell than this.
A Naga soldier's voice boomed from above, bouncing off the curved ceiling.
"Trial begins!"
Like he was announcing a predetermined death sentence.
The goblin lunged.
Time froze for a heartbeat.A voice—deep, distorted, almost demonic—rang inside my skull.
Mission: don't die. Or you perish.
I moved first—not out of bravery, but pure survival instinct.
I shoved the red-furred girl aside just as a massive hand slammed down where she had stood, cracking the stone floor. Dust exploded into the air. The boy screamed and stumbled backward, nearly tripping over a pile of dull wooden training spears.
I grabbed one before he could.
(I'm faster… heh.)
The weight was pathetic. A child's toy. Barely strong enough to kill a rat, let alone a monster.
"Behind me!" I shouted, praying they didn't hear how hard I was shaking.
The girl obeyed immediately, trembling.The boy hesitated—then fear won over pride, and he moved beside her.
The goblin twisted toward us again, nails scraping against the floor. Its breath reeked of warm, raw meat.
It wasn't just hungry.
It enjoyed this.
I lowered my stance the way I remembered from self-defense classes in my old life.
As if that's going to help against a goblin trying to murder me for no reason.
Those memories belonged to a man.A grown body.Not this small, shaking one.
My legs almost buckled.
The goblin swung.
I barely dodged. The wind from its arm blasted past my face. The spear slipped in my sweaty palms. I gritted my teeth and jabbed forward—
Mistake.
My arms were too weak.The spear bounced off its skin like a tap.
They never said goblins were thick-skinned…
The goblin laughed.
Come on, little one, its expression mocked.
It raised its arm again, ready to crush me.
"Move!" the boy shrieked.
Great help. Fantastic contribution.
I couldn't move.Not from fear—but from the crushing realization of how utterly worthless I was here.
This wasn't an office.Not a courtroom.Not a life ruined by my own manipulation.
This was a world where weakness meant death.
The goblin's shadow swallowed me—
SCHWIP!
A sharp stone—thrown by the red-furred girl—smashed into its eye.
The creature roared, clutching its face.
"You idiot!" she screamed, voice cracking. "Do something!"
Her voice snapped me out of it.
I moved.
Not gracefully.Not heroically.
Desperately.
I lunged and drove the spear into the goblin's throat—not piercing it, but hitting the softest spot I could find.
It choked and stumbled.The boy hurled another stone.The girl threw a third.
Three children.Three pathetic attacks.
But they mattered.
The goblin fell to one knee, clutching its throat.
And for the first time since arriving in this world…
I saw an opening.
No, not whatever you're imagining.
A tiny window between living—and being torn apart.
I threw myself onto its back, gripping its coarse hair.Clawing.Biting.
Animalistic.Savage.Humiliating.
But effective.
The girl slammed a cracked wooden beam into its ribs.The boy jumped forward and stabbed a jagged rock into its chest again and again, screaming.
Our "weapons" were trash.
We were worse.
But desperation makes monsters of everyone.
Blood dripped from the goblin's ruined throat. I looped the broken spear shaft around its neck and pulled with everything I had.
It clawed at me.Nails tore my shoulder open.The pain blurred my vision.
I didn't stop.
I couldn't.
Not here. Not now.
With a final violent jerk—
CRACK.
The wooden spear snapped.
The goblin collapsed.
Not dead.But its menacing eyes locked onto me.
Target: acquired.
For the first time, my heart and brain agreed:
Run.
Not "run."Not "escape."RUUUUNNNN!
It charged only at me.So I ran.Ran like hell.
Thankfully, this was a three-on-one, and the other two pelted it with anything they could grab—stones, sand, sticks, splinters of spear.
One rock hit perfectly.
A clean headshot.
The goblin dropped.
Silence filled the arena.
Come on, this isn't the first time a 3v1 goes in favor of the solo player. Gamers everywhere understand.
Then applause—slow, mocking—echoed from the stands.Naga soldiers.Nobles.Even the prisoners.
Three rat-kin children covered in blood.
Three children who were supposed to die.
That's true, that's true.
Three children who refused to—
Nope. I wanted to die. Who wants to live as a rat? But thanks to the demon voice in my head, here we are.
The girl dropped the wooden beam, gasping.The boy fell to his knees and vomited.
I stood over the goblin's corpse, chest heaving, hands trembling.
And in that moment, I understood something important.
(I need to take a dump.)
Okay, okay—let the "author" end the poetry.
This world didn't care about purity.Or innocence.Or regrets.
Only one thing mattered:
Survival.
And for the first time since being reborn…
I felt alive.
…as if I wanted this.
Nope. Absolutely not.
Before I could even breathe, a metal can—or cup?—hit my head with a loud CLONG.
"Ow—come on! I'm already half-dead!" I shouted at nobody in particular, because clearly this arena had no customer service department.
I turned.
A figure in a mysterious hood stood near the bars.
A myst—A mysteri—A—
Nope. He wasn't mysterious at all.
He was just a poor bastard who had bet all his money on the solo player winning the 3v1.
I could practically hear his internal sobbing as he stared at me.
"My gold… gone…"
Bro was grieving harder than we were.
And before I could decide whether to thank him, curse him, or ask why he threw a metal can at a dying child, a group of Naga guards slithered down and grabbed us.
Escorted?
No.
We were dragged.
Dragged like sacks of rotten potatoes back toward the cells.
"Hey—careful! My shoulder is literally open!"No response."Hello? Anyone? A healer? A nurse? A doctor? At least a band-aid?"Still nothing.
Where were the pretty nurses?The gentle priestesses?The cliché healing magic?
Nope.Not here.Not for rat-kin.
They tossed us into the same cage as before, the door slamming shut behind us.
The same cold metal.The same damp straw.The same corpse still slumped in the corner.
But now, with upgraded features:
Me — with more injuries than both of them combined.
My shoulder was torn open.My arms were shaking.My whole body pulsed like someone hit me with a truck and then reversed over me for fun.
Also, I still needed to take a dump.
Desperately.
Across from me, the girl was curled up, arms wrapped around her knees.The boy stared at his bloody hands, trembling like they were someone else's.
Everyone was busy having their own post-traumatic breakdown.
And me?
I lay there on the cold stone floor thinking:
This world sucks.Everything hurts.And I still need the toilet.