Flame—the Frenzied Flame that incinerates all things—had pulled the entire world into its final embrace.
As the price for that end, Lynn's consciousness had been scorched, twisted, and ultimately plunged into an infinite darkness.
This was merely one of countless cycles.
...
A cold, damp sensation against his back pulled Lynn's consciousness from the void.
He snapped his eyes open. Above him was an unfamiliar stone ceiling, embedded with patches of bioluminescent moss that cast a dim, eerie glow. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and something vaguely putrid.
Where am I? Lynn sat up, looking around in a daze.
This wasn't the Chapel of Anticipation. Based on his previous experiences, shouldn't he have transitioned directly into a new cycle after reaching an ending?
He looked down at himself. He was stripped bare, save for a pair of white loincloths. His feet were bare, and his hands were completely empty.
A 'Wretch' start this time? No, wait—even a Wretch starts with a club, doesn't it? How strange.
Scritch... scratch... The sound of faint friction came from around a nearby corner, accompanied by several sharp, unintelligible screeches.
Lynn's scattered thoughts snapped into focus. His muscles tightened instinctively, dropping him into a combat-ready stance capable of reacting at a moment's notice.
His gaze swept the surroundings. Fragments of stone lay scattered across the ground.
He immediately leaned over, snatched up a fist-sized rock with jagged edges, and gripped it tightly.
It was his only weapon.
Seconds later, three small, hideous green figures burst from around the corner.
They had wrinkled skin, long pointed ears, and brandished crude wooden clubs and rusted daggers. Their small, cruel eyes gleamed with greed as they locked onto him.
What are these things? They're... unique-looking. Though their appearance differed slightly, Lynn tentatively categorized them as a variation of the Hollows.
Almost simultaneously, panicked shouting erupted from the tunnel on the opposite side.
"Run! Hurry! Goblins!"
"Don't leave me! My legs are like jelly!"
Two young men, looking remarkably green, came scrambling out of the darkness. They wore simple leather armor and carried shortswords and wooden shields, but they were currently a pathetic sight, their faces masks of pure terror.
Actual living people? When they spotted Lynn—standing alone and practically naked—one of them shouted in shock, "Did you get robbed?! Run! You're going to get killed!"
Lynn, however, was deaf to their warnings.
In his world, nothing remained but the three goblins charging toward him.
The lead goblin let out a screech and leaped high into the air, its wooden club whistling through the air as it aimed for Lynn's head.
Facing this heavy blow, Lynn's body reacted before his brain could.
Pivoting on his left foot, he threw his body into a forward-right roll.
It was a perfectly standard, perfectly fluid dodge roll, timed to the exact millisecond.
The heavy club grazed his back as it slammed into the ground, kicking up a spray of stone chips.
Utilizing the momentum of the roll, Lynn reappeared at the goblin's side like a ghost.
The goblin's strike had missed, leaving it in a brief state of recovery frames.
A cold light flashed in Lynn's eyes. His right hand, gripping the stone, swung upward with the full weight of his body behind it, slamming the jagged edge into the goblin's temple!
Crun-ch! With a dull thud, the sharp rock buried itself deep into the creature's fragile skull.
It didn't even have time to scream. Its body went limp and it hit the floor like a sack of flour.
A one-hit kill.
Seeing this, the other two goblins showed no fear. Instead, the scent of blood sent them into a frenzy as they flanked him from both sides.
The goblin on the left lunged with a dagger toward Lynn's waist, while the one on the right swung its club in a low sweep at his legs.
It was a simple but lethal pincer maneuver.
The two novice adventurers had already closed their eyes, unable to watch the bloody scene they assumed was coming.
But Lynn's expression remained indifferent.
He didn't retreat. Instead, he took a step forward, leaning his torso back at an impossible angle, narrowly avoiding the thrusting dagger. Simultaneously, he pushed off the ground, jumping vertically.
The sweeping club passed harmlessly beneath his feet.
Utilizing that brief moment of airtime, Lynn twisted his body to adjust his orientation, landing squarely behind the goblin on the right.
The creature was still locked in its swinging animation, completely failing to react.
Without a moment's hesitation, Lynn swung the stone again, accurately crushing the back of its skull.
Another one-hit kill.
The final goblin finally felt the icy touch of fear. It turned, attempting to flee.
But Lynn wasn't about to give it the chance.
He lunged forward, closing the distance in a few strides, and delivered a clean, sharp flying kick to the center of the goblin's back. The creature stumbled and face-planted into the dirt. Lynn followed up instantly, straddling its back and raising the blood-stained rock.
Thwack. Thwack. Thwack. He didn't stop until the goblin's head was completely deformed and it had stopped moving.
The entire combat encounter—from the first goblin's leap to the last one's death—had taken less than twenty seconds.
Everything had happened in a lightning flash.
A dead silence fell over the tunnel.
The two novice adventurers stared at the scene, their mouths hanging open wide enough to fit an egg.
What had they just witnessed?
A weirdo in nothing but his underwear had just used a rock to flawlessly slaughter three goblins?
That fluid rolling, those millimeter-perfect dodges, those decisive lethal strikes... every movement looked like it had been tempered a thousand times over. It was a display of sheer, violent beauty.
Lynn stood up slowly and tossed aside the shattered rock as if he had just finished a trivial chore.
And to him, it was.
In that world on the brink of ruin, he had faced enemies millions of times more powerful than these goblins.
Fighting at this level had long since become pure instinct.
Just then, the sound of light, steady footsteps echoed from the depths of the passage.
Lynn immediately went on high alert, snapping his gaze toward the sound.
A figure slowly emerged from the shadows.
It was a young girl with dazzling blonde hair and brilliant golden eyes. Her features were as exquisite and refined as a porcelain doll's.
She wore light, silver armor and carried a magnificent rapier at her waist.
Her expression was flat—or rather, she seemed to have no expression at all, giving off an aura of icy detachment.
The girl's gaze swept over the bloodstains left by the goblins before they dissolved, glanced at the two trembling novices, and finally came to rest on Lynn.
...Why isn't he wearing any clothes?