The goblin body's instinct screamed a single, overwhelming command: RUN!
A primal panic—not entirely his—flooded his veins. His small, weak heart hammered against his ribs like a war drum. Other green shapes in the cave—goblins Ren had barely noticed in his own despair—reacted to that same instinct. They shrieked, high-pitched and filled with stupid fury, grabbing their crude weapons—splintered clubs, jagged stones.
Idiots, Ren's human mind whispered, cutting through the animal panic. Don't attack. Hide.
Fight? With Strength 2 and 10 HP?
That wasn't a fight. That was suicide. Voluntarily jumping into an EXP grinder.
He'd been on the other side of that equation too many times to have any illusions.
Ignoring his body's urge to join the suicidal pack, Ren crawled toward the deepest shadow he could find. A large, damp stalagmite a few meters away offered cover. He squeezed behind it, pressing his frail body flat against the cold stone, trying to become invisible.
Fear was physical. A metallic taste in his mouth. A ringing in his pointed ears.
The figure that entered the cave was wrapped in the soft glow of his own spell. Blue light danced across his robes, revealing the details.
A newbie player. Obvious.
Ren's mind—Zephyr's mind—processed it instantly, a habit forged through thousands of hours.
Elf. Mage. Apprentice Staff, basic cloth robes. Level 5… maybe 6. Name tag visible from this side—green letters. Player. "Leo."
— Alright, quest says "clear the Pestilent Goblin Cave." Easy. — Leo muttered to himself.
His voice was young. Confident. The kind of arrogance that came from seeing the world as a checklist of objectives and rewards.
To Leo, this cave wasn't a home. Not an ecosystem.
It was a quest node.
The inhabitants? A pest to be cleared for EXP and maybe a trash drop.
As if proving Ren's point, the other goblins attacked.
Ignoring logic. Ignoring survival.
They rushed the light—a pathetic wave of green skin and useless rage.
Ren watched, heart in his throat, the same slaughter he had carried out countless times.
— Fireball!
Leo's voice was calm. Almost bored.
He raised his staff. A small orb of orange flame—unstable, poorly formed, like any beginner's—shot forward.
To a high-level player, it was a party trick.
To a goblin—
it was the apocalypse.
The fireball exploded in the middle of the charging group.
The goblin at the center was instantly vaporized. Its HP—something Ren could feel more than see—dropped from 10 to 0 in an instant. The body dissolved into particles of light, leaving behind the faint glimmer of a single copper coin clinking against the stone floor.
The others, caught in the blast, had their HP bars cut in half. They stumbled. Their frenzy cracked by pain and confusion.
Leo didn't give them time.
— Ice Bolt!
— Ice Bolt!
— Ice Bolt!
Pale blue projectiles hissed through the cave.
Each one hit.
Each one killed.
HP bars emptied. Shrill screams cut short as bodies broke apart into more fading light.
To Leo, it was farming. Routine.
To Ren, it was a massacre of his own kind.
He felt each death like a cold shiver. A reminder.
That was him.
That fragile.
That disposable.
He pressed himself tighter against the rock, holding his breath.
Don't look here. Please. Be lazy. Most players don't check corners.
Leo's gaze swept the cave, searching for stragglers.
For one terrifying fraction of a second—
their eyes aligned.
Ren's heart stopped.
He was dead. Found.
But Leo looked away.
A player's brain is trained to track movement.
Still, buried in deep shadow, Ren was just part of the environment.
Leo's attention snapped to the last goblin—the "smartest" one—limping toward the exit.
— Ice Bolt!
The final shriek was cut off.
Silence.
Leo exhaled. — Whew. Done. +50 EXP. Not bad.
He turned. The blue glow followed him out of the cave, leaving behind darkness, the faint scent of ozone—
and scattered copper coins glinting like fallen stars.
Ren didn't move.
One minute.
Two.
Five.
His entire body trembled—fear, adrenaline, shock.
He survived.
Not by fighting.
By betraying his own body's instinct.
He used his human mind. His knowledge of how players think.
He hid.
He was a coward.
And he was alive because of it.
In the silence of the empty cave, a new window blinked into existence.
[Skill Unlocked: Stealth (Rudimentary) Lv. 1]
Description: Your ability to move unseen and use the environment to hide. Effectiveness increases in low-light areas.
[You survived an encounter with a higher-level enemy by using terrain to your advantage.]
[+5 EXP]
[Hidden Evolution Requirement Detected: First Survival Through Intelligence.]
[Progress: 1/???]
Ren stared at the notifications, his mind spinning.
Five EXP.
For surviving.
And…
Hidden Evolution?
He—Zephyr—knew almost every evolution path in the game. Goblins evolved into Hobgoblins, Goblin Chiefs, Goblin Shamans.
He had never heard of a requirement like "Survival Through Intelligence."
A new, terrible understanding began to take shape.
He wasn't a player abusing the system anymore.
He was part of the system.
And on this side—
the rules were different.
No glory.
No loot.
No being the best.
Only loopholes.
Only manipulation.
Only surviving the next player.
A cold realization settled deep in his bones.
Somewhere out there, in Asphodel—
a Level 100 Blade Master named Zephyr still existed.
And the day he met his old avatar—
wouldn't be a reunion.
It would be an execution.
I need to get out of here.
Urgency finally overpowered fear.
This starter cave is a farm zone. A death trap.
With a new objective locked in, he began crawling out from his hiding spot.
That's when he heard it.
Footsteps.
From outside the cave.
More than one.
And the heavy, metallic sound of armor.
Not a newbie this time.
A patrol.