Steve's chest heaved violently, every breath a trembling struggle.
His eyes locked onto the goblin, its throat savagely torn open, blood gushing in wild, erratic spurts.
The creature's grotesque gaze still lingered—its lifeless eyes somehow transfixed on him, even as blood puffed and sprayed from its severed windpipe.
The sight alone was maddening.
Steve's body was broken—his left arm completely torn off at the shoulder, blood spurting in hot bursts with every heartbeat.
His bruised face was streaked with blood and grime, his vision blurred, his hearing distant and filled with a constant ringing.
And yet, even through the pain, he stood frozen... staring. Just staring.
'This can't be it.' he thought, teeth clenched.
'This… isn't how I die.'
