Lay a body broken in the heap of blood and strangled corpses of his own making. If one might have witnessed, then they might have proclaimed that the boy fought valiantly.
Others might mock his futile act of resistance towards approaching death.
He wasn't a warrior, and he hadn't even held a real weapon all his life. Yet, he fought with everything he had until his last breath.
Breath which he was barely holding on to.
"Fuck..." He let out a groan with resentment, anger, and defeat.
"Why the fuck does this have to happen to me on weekends? Couldn't that damn laptop blast on me on a workday? Probably when my boss was looming over me like a hawk. At least I would have taken the bastard with me." He again groaned, his throat filling up with his own blood, and his breathing became laboured as his eyes started to lose their light.
The last he recalled was him lying on his room's floor bleeding after his trusted partner, his old laptop, blasted right on his face, taking him with it.
"Perhaps these are my sins of putting that much pressure on the poor soul, which are coming to bite me back." He muttered with difficulty, breath laboured and body in pain.
He found himself here in the dark, long, narrow path of a branching pathway not too long ago.
If this wasn't one of the many Isekai dreams his cooked-up mind was cooking, then he was dead and now had been isekai-ed.
'This place, it has to be a dungeon, right?' he had thought as he started to explore the ever-branching labyrinth, which was completely directionless.
An expected thought lingered that some sort of cheat ability, a power, or as some might call it, a Golden Finger... would come to him.
None did, though, but what he did find was his own body, much different than what he recalled.
For one, he was younger now. Slightly, but it was noticeable. He seemed to be at the tender age of 16, when everything seemed romantic by the coloured glasses of puberty.
"Damn, not this again." Puberty was the last thing he wished to go through again.
Besides that, there were more changes. For one, he found that he wasn't in his own body. This one was much better built, taller, and he could feel strength he had never felt before in his life.
Gingerly plucking a hair string, he found silver strands instead of the deep brownish-black he was used to.
That wasn't his hair.
But to confirm it just in case, he carefully lifted the strange pants he was wearing, only to find something much bigger than he had expected.
'Definitely not my body.'
However, there was a roguish grin on his face.
With the newfound confidence of a completely unrelated matter regarding his survival, he found his steps bolstered. Taking longer steps, searching for something, anything.
And that is when he found—
A low, guttural snarl scraped through the tunnel behind him. Then another. Then a third.
He turned slowly, his heart climbing up his throat.
Three small figures emerged from the darkness—hunched bodies, mottled skin, beady yellow eyes full of hunger. Goblins. Not the goofy fantasy ones. These were feral, sharp-toothed things that stank of rot and blood.
Orion froze.
"Goblings."
Unfortunately, he was wrong in his assumption that he had found them. No... they found him.
He had no weapons. No training. No idea what world he was even in.
"Wait—hold on—stop—!"
The closest goblin screeched and lunged without any warning.
Instinct, desperation, whatever it was—Orion sidestepped clumsily, barely avoiding its claws. His hand shot out and shoved it away, sending it stumbling backwards. But the second goblin rushed in immediately, raking a jagged nail across his forearm.
He hissed, grabbing his bleeding arm, stumbling back.
"God—damn it—!"
For an office worker, the highest degree of pain he had suffered was when his boss threw a marker at him for sleeping between meetings; however, this was beyond anything he had felt before.
His flesh was ripped apart from him.
The first goblin recovered and pounced again. He blocked with his elbow, pain exploding through him, but he pushed forward, slammed his shoulder into the creature, and threw it to the ground.
The thought of running came to his mind, but what was the possibility that he wouldn't stumble upon more of these bastards?
The third goblin circled behind him.
'Okay, if I got any, then this is the right time for my powers to manifest.' He stumbled back and cursed.
"System... Status... bloody anything, fuck."
He didn't even notice until tiny claws dug into his back, ripping through his shirt and skin. He screamed and flailed, slamming himself against the wall to dislodge it. The goblin fell, dazed for a moment.
But only a moment.
"Ahhhh," he roared out in pain, finally panic setting in. He had died once; he didn't wish to repeat that experience if possible.
The first one was already up again. The second was licking its claws. The third was screeching, preparing another jump.
Orion felt his legs shaking. The sudden attack caught him completely off guard, his breathing was all over the place, and for the lack of any fighting experience, he didn't know what to do.
Only running away seemed like the right option. However, he doubted they would let him.
He didn't know where he was. He didn't know why he was here. But he knew one thing.
If he didn't fight, he would die again.
"Fucking bastards."
He rushed the nearest goblin, swinging wildly. His fist caught its face, breaking something—maybe its nose, maybe his hand—but the creature fell backward. Orion followed it down, punching again and again until it stopped moving, its body fading into ash-like particles.
But the other two leapt onto him at once.
It was like fighting children with knives in their hands. Possible but dangerous.
Claws shredded his side. Teeth sank into his shoulder. He roared in pain, adrenaline smothering his fear. The wounds were substantial but at least until now, not lethal enough.
And so he kept on going.
He grabbed the biting goblin's head with both hands and smashed it into the ground. Once. Twice. A third time until its head burst open.
The last goblin slashed across his cheek, teeth bared. Orion, barely keeping his eye, seeing nothing but red, tackled it. They rolled across the floor, the goblin on top, clawing at his throat. He grabbed its wrist, pushed back with everything he had, and managed to flip it over.
It shrieked as he slammed his knee into its chest and clawed at its face until it was finally over.
"Haaa."
But his rage didn't fizzle out. His mind kept telling him to fight, fight or he would die, and thus he kept hammering the dead body of the goblin until nothing was left in him anymore to go on.
And then he collapsed.
Silence.
Outside his own laboured breathing, which was hard to continue, and his heart which sounded like a jet engine, there was complete, utter silence.
Blood soaked his shirt, or at least what remained of it after those goblins tore through it. His arms throbbed. His shoulder felt like it had been carved open. Warm liquid dripped down his back.
Everything hurt. Everything was going numb...
He tried to stand and immediately fell to one knee, his vision tunneling.
"Seriously…? Is this the end? I just died… and now this…?"
The dungeon walls blurred. His heartbeat slowed.
He had survived three goblins with no weapon and no experience.
But he had lost too much blood.
He was already at death's door again.
And thus as his mind was giving up on him, telling him to go slumber, give in to the eternal sleep—
However, that was when his blurry vision caught a light.
[Thou art forbid to succumb, for thy tasks are yet manifold. Though tarnished thou art, thou art yet my liege.]
A serene voice entered his ears as his eyes caught the hint of gold.
And manifested in front of him were the most beautiful pair of legs he had ever seen. Bare and bathed in holy golden light. They radiated with a godly aura.
[Yet art thou still feeble; thou must needs wax strong, for future trials do await.]
Again, the voice...
It sounded heavenly.
It took away his pain, his misery, and only left him with peace even at his deathbed.
But perhaps it was curiosity which made him keep drawing breath as he wished to see the owner of those divine legs and heavenly voice.
However so, his body refused to move. He couldn't bring his eyes to meet the one radiating warmth to him.
'Is she an angel? A goddess?'
He mustered all his strength and with one last effort, he turned his head, only to be met by a face so unreal that it almost took the last breath he had in him away.
[Yet how shall thee gain strength, being as thee art]
[Maidenless]
And that was all it took.
Death came.
Not just by the creatures of blasphemy who ambushed him but by the words of someone so serene.
For the first time, Orion knew that death was possible through...
EMOTIONAL DAMAGE...!