I had been humiliated.By three goblins, each no bigger than a child, carrying rusty blades.And I… I had been afraid.The thought hit me like a punch to the gut.A rage boiled up inside me—at myself, at the situation, at the world.Humiliation... it was the feeling I hated most in my entire life.I clenched my teeth to keep from losing control, but my mind dragged me back to the past.I remembered the real reason I had started sports. Seven years ago...
It must've been the start of middle school.Hard years.So hard, in fact, that my brain refused to recall parts of them.But their impact—the trauma—still lingered in my body.Even back then, I had been alone.Quiet. Sitting in corners. Not close with anyone.I had friends, sure, but I always felt like an outsider.My true self only emerged when I was by myself.Among people, I was someone else—a shadow that merely adapted.
And one day…I was just trying to get to the bathroom.In the crowded hallway, I accidentally bumped into someone.It was the school bully: Mark.Everyone feared him.My shoulder had barely brushed his.I even apologized—but it wasn't enough.He knocked me down in front of everyone.Punches, kicks… shame.Everyone watched.No one stopped him.Some even laughed.
That day, I took the first blow of my life.Physically and emotionally.And I realized—I couldn't stay the same.I snapped.I fought back.I lashed out with my fists, vomiting out my pain.At the end of the day, both of our parents were called to school.
"I'll finally get justice," I had thought.
But real life isn't fair like a game.Mark was the deputy governor's son.The teachers, even though they knew about his bullying, turned a blind eye.My family was the one that had to apologize.
From that day on, I made a decision.No one would ever trample me again.No matter how alone I was, I'd at least be strong.That's why I turned to studying. To sports.I learned to endure physical pain, to suppress emotional wounds.
And now, here I was.Once again facing bullies—only this time, in the form of goblins.
As I stared at them, my rage spiraled out of control.Something swelled in my chest—burning, sharp, long-suppressed fury.And suddenly… their faces changed.The three creatures standing before me suddenly turned into someone else: Mark.
I blinked, but the image stayed.That grinning face, that mocking gaze…It was as if Mark—the one who had punched me, knocked me down, and walked away as if nothing had happened—stood before me again, in three forms.
Once again, I was small.Once again, I was alone.But this time… there was nowhere to run.
My breathing quickened.My hands trembled.But it wasn't fear—it was rage breaking the surface.
Like a scene out of a movie, I instinctively grabbed the spear stuck in the yard.My target was clear: disable one of them.As I pulled the spear free, every muscle in my body tensed—And I threw it.
The spear pierced the goblin's shoulder.A sharp scream rang out.The wounded goblin staggered and dropped to its knees.
The grins of the other two disappeared instantly.The mockery in their eyes turned to fury.And both of them lunged at me, knives like claws.
Time slowed.I inhaled.
I had to stay calm.Everything I had learned over the years—every reflex, every move—needed to count now.
But my mind was full of contradictions.I had never been in a real fight.Never truly harmed anyone.And now?Living creatures stood before me. Real enemies.
But… a thought crossed my mind.My family.They were missing.Maybe they were still alive.And if I survived, I could find them again.
At that moment, fear was replaced by blind resolve.
The first goblin struck from the right.I tried to block its dagger-like punch, but I was a second too late.The blade stabbed into the side of my ribs.
Pain...So sharp I couldn't even draw breath.I groaned and stumbled back—but I didn't fall.I would never fall.
I pressed the pot in my left hand to my chest to suppress the pain.Then I gripped the machete.With a scream, I lunged forward and swung at the first goblin's head.
A crack.Its skull shattered, caved inward.Blood sprayed onto my face and arms.I felt like vomiting—but my stomach was already empty.My mind was hazy, but I couldn't stop.
I tried to pull the blade free, but it was stuck.I yanked—And involuntarily spun with the motion.
The second goblin's neck was severed in a clean arc.Its head rolled away.The body dropped to its knees, then collapsed.
A second of silence.A single breath's pause.
The third goblin—the one I'd wounded—stood outside the door, staring at me.It had switched its dagger to its left hand.But there was no strength in its grip.
Its eyes trembled.For the first time, I realized I had made something feel fear.
The machete in my hand had grown heavy.I was limping.Blood was flowing from my body.But I was walking.
Step by step, toward it.And the goblin… stepped back.
That's when I understood.
I was no longer the old Riven.The quiet kid.The one who ran away.The one who went unnoticed.
Here, in this world—kill, or be killed.And I had made my choice.
The goblin's eyes widened with pure terror.It was the monster…But right now, I was the monster in its eyes.
I tightened my grip on the machete.My hand no longer trembled.No—now it was all decision.Blood ran down from my shoulder, a gash throbbed on my chest… I felt it, but I didn't care.
My steps were slow, but steady.I limped—not out of fear,but like an executioner walking toward the inevitable.The goblin stared at me.It understood.There was no escape.No place to hide.
And I…
For a moment, the thought crossed my mind—To let it go.But I didn't.
That quiet, buried voice inside me screamed:
"What if it comes back?
What if it hurts someone else?
What if my family is still alive?"
I gripped the machete.It was covered in sweat, blood, and dust.But none of it mattered.
I took a step.Then another.
There was a sting in my chest—But the real pain was inside me.
I took the final step and extended the blade.I used the length of my arm to my advantage.We locked eyes.We were a heartbeat apart.
And then—
I stabbed.
The metal sank into flesh.Straight into its chest, piercing its heart.The goblin's eyes widened, shook.Its breath left its lungs.No sound—just a dull groan.
Then its knees gave way.Its body dropped to the ground—Eyes still staring at me.
I stood frozen.Just stared.Breathless.
Then—
I turned to the door.
I didn't hear the howl of wind from outside,didn't feel the cursed chill seeping through the shattered glass.I closed the door.Bolted it shut.
The sound of the lock was the only comforting thing in what felt like a descent into hell.
After that—
I leaned my back against the door.My legs gave out.I sank slowly to my knees.
The machete was still in my bloodied hand.
And then—
I threw up.
At first, only air.Then acid that burned my throat.And finally, that damned breakfast from this morning.
Tears welled up.But it wasn't just vomit—It was everything I had bottled inside.
Pain.Rage.Guilt.Fear.
It wasn't my stomach—it was my soul emptying out.
My gaze drifted to the three corpses lying nearby.The warmth of their blood was still fresh.They weren't breathing.I didn't even need to see them—I felt them.
I…
I had killed three living beings.
I whispered to myself:
"This isn't a game..."
"This isn't a dream..."
"This is hell."
"This is real."
My heart fluttered like a bird trapped in my chest—But even the bird was exhausted now.
"I did this…"
What I felt wasn't victory.There was no sense of achievement.This wasn't something to be proud of.
This was simply… something I had to do to keep existing.
And the worst part was—
A part of me was getting used to it.
That frightened me more than anything.
Because humans adapt to everything.
To war.To blood.To killing.
Would I adapt too?The next time someone came…When I looked into monster eyes that resembled a child's…Would I stab without hesitation?
I looked at my hands.Blood.It had seeped into my fingernails.
I started trembling.Again.
I asked myself:
"Am I still Riven?"Or am I… someone else now?
I leaned my head back against the wall.Stared at the ceiling.The broken lightbulb swayed with a static buzz.Outside, in the distance, another scream.
Maybe someone else was trying to survive.Or maybe they were taking their last breath.
I was still alive.But… was this living?
Minutes passed. Maybe hours.I had lost all sense of time.And when I was finally alone in the silence, another thought surfaced in my mind:
"My family…"
A fresh pang tore through me.They weren't here.No voices.No traces.
Had they fallen to these creatures too?
The darkness tried to suppress this thought—But I wouldn't let it.
No.
I had to reach them.I survived for a reason.
And that reason—Was now lifting me to my feet.
I reached out.Gripped the machete from the floor again.
This time, it wasn't fear in my fingers—It was resolve.
My eyes caught the blood-marked screen in front of me.