Alright… so here I am. Back inside the cave. Alive. Breathing. Heart definitely not skewered like a kebab this time.
And let me just say: dying sucks. Wouldn't recommend it. Zero stars on Yelp.
But apparently, I got a free retry card out of it. Which is great, except now I know for a fact what's waiting for me deeper in this cave—ten ugly little green dudes with swords and really bad hygiene. Goblins. Actual goblins.
And I also know they can and will slice me into meat cubes if I mess up again.
So yeah. No pressure.
I leaned against the cold stone wall, taking deep breaths and trying to think. Okay, Nolan, you've read enough manga for this exact scenario, right? Protagonist gets cornered by monsters, somehow wins, unlocks hidden power, boom—plot armor. Easy.
Except… plot armor apparently comes with the free trial version where you still feel every single stab. Great.
So the question is: how do I not die horribly a second time?
…Answer: I have no idea. But I'm definitely not walking in empty-handed again.
I crouched down, picking up a decent-sized rock from the cave floor. Not exactly Excalibur, but hey, it worked once. Last time I nailed one of those green freaks right in the skull and he dropped. This time, maybe I can actually finish the job before his buddies turn me into Swiss cheese.
"Alright," I muttered under my breath, gripping the rock tight. "Round two. Let's see if I can make it past the tutorial this time."
And with that, I started creeping forward, toward the faint glow of torchlight…
"Alright, let's get this party started, baby," I whispered under my breath, even though my voice cracked halfway through like a middle schooler hitting puberty. Real intimidating, I know.
I crouched lower and started sneaking up behind them, my footsteps as light as I could make them. Every pebble crunch, every scrape of my shoe against the cave floor felt like a marching band announcing my arrival, but thankfully, the goblins were too busy grunting and waving their torches around like idiots to notice me.
Along the way, I started grabbing rocks off the ground. But not just any rocks, oh no. I was being picky—super picky. None of those tiny ones the size of a finger nail, because what am I gonna do with that? Flick them in the eye? No thanks. I wanted the good ones, the ones that fit perfectly in the palm of my hand. Heavy enough to hurt, small enough to throw. Basically, the limited-edition "Nolan Survival Kit" exclusive to caves.
Each time I found one that looked promising, I gave it a little test toss in my hand, nodding like some professional baseball player about to hit a home run. Yeah, this one felt good. This one had potential.
I pocketed a couple in my pockets and gripped the best one tight, staring at the backs of those green little monsters. My heart was pounding, my hands sweaty, and my brain screaming at me to turn around and run. But I forced myself to stay low, stay focused, because this time, I couldn't afford to screw up.
Not again.
Because if I failed, I'd have to go through all of that again. Every second. Every painful slash. Every stupid, humiliating death. I couldn't afford that—not for my life, and definitely not for my sanity.
So I forced myself to calm down. Closing my eyes, I inhaled deeply. Slow, deliberate, steady. My chest rose and fell as I tried to shut out the pounding in my ears. If I panicked, I'd slip up. If I slipped up, I'd die. Again.
When I opened my eyes, I was ready.
I crouched behind a boulder, big enough to hide me from sight, and took out a few rocks. My heart was hammering like crazy, but my grip was steady. One shot. Just one well-placed throw, and I'd change everything.
With a grunt, I hurled the rock as hard as I could.
Whoosh.
Before I even processed the throw, I heard the sickening crack as it collided with the back of a goblin's skull. The creature let out a pathetic grunt and collapsed face-first, twitching once before going still. Dead.
I froze for half a second, staring at the lifeless green body.
Holy crap. It actually worked.
You see, goblins aren't dangerous because they're strong. Far from it, actually—they're weak, squishy little things. What makes them terrifying is their numbers, the fact they swarm you like roaches in the dark. One goblin alone? Trash. Ten goblins together? A nightmare. Luckily for me, this was "only" a pack of ten.
And now it was nine.
I wasn't about to waste the chance. Using the momentum, I grabbed another rock and let it fly. Thwack. Another headshot. Then another. Three down before they even realized what was happening.
But of course, my luck had an expiration date.
The rest of the goblins screeched in fury, snapping their heads toward me. Their ugly little faces twisted into rage as they pointed their crude swords in my direction. They knew exactly where I was now.
"Crap, busted," I muttered.
Instead of retreating, I went forward. Picking up the smaller rocks I'd originally ignored, I chucked them into the eyes of two charging goblins. They screeched, stumbling and clawing at their faces, blinded for just a second.
One second was all I needed.
I sprinted in, snatched up a fallen sword with one hand, and a torch with the other. Without thinking twice, I flung the torch at a tight cluster of them. Flames roared as it landed on their dry rags, spreading fast. Their shrieks echoed through the cave as fire consumed their bodies.
That was six down. Four more to go.
I clenched the sword in my hand. It wasn't great—rusty, poorly balanced, basically garbage—but garbage was still better than nothing.
I dashed forward, thrusting at the nearest goblin. My aim was off—I missed its heart and only pierced its gut. Still, it screamed and staggered. I yanked the blade out and slashed at its throat, silencing it instantly.
Without giving myself time to breathe, I grabbed its body and hurled it at another goblin. The impact knocked it flat, just as I caught sight of movement behind me.
Another one.
I spun around just in time to block the slash aimed at my back. Sparks flew as our weapons clashed. My arms shook, but I gritted my teeth and shoved back, then countered with a clean slash across its neck. The goblin's head rolled across the cave floor, eyes still wide in shock.
One left.
Except… no.
I noticed the goblin had dropped down, pretending to be dead. Cute trick. Too bad for him, I wasn't that gullible.
I marched right over and brought my boot down on its skull. Crunch. Its head popped like a rotten watermelon.
And just like that, the last of them was gone.
I stood there, panting, gripping the bloody sword in my trembling hand. My chest was heaving, sweat dripping down my face, but I couldn't help muttering under my breath—
"How unfortunate for them."
Spitting on the ground, I slumped onto a nearby stone, chest heaving as I tried to recover from the absolute chaos I had just lived through. My arms ached, my legs felt like jelly, and my heart was still hammering like it wanted to escape my ribcage.
And then something… clicked.
How the hell did I even do all of that?
I mean, yeah, the rock throws I could explain. I was decent at baseball back on Earth—well, okay, maybe not "decent." More like "average enough to not embarrass myself completely." But at least that gave me a good throwing arm, so headshotting goblins with rocks kinda made sense.
But the sword? That was different. I'd never touched a real blade in my life. The closest thing I'd held to a weapon was a bat, and all I ever did with that was swing at balls or, you know, whack the occasional trash can lid when I was bored. Yet somehow, while fighting… it felt natural. Like my body knew what to do. Every block, every slash, every counter—it wasn't perfect, but it was way too smooth for someone with zero experience.
When I was holding that sword, it felt like I had practiced for hundreds—no, thousands—of hours. As if I'd done this a million times before.
Which was, obviously, impossible.
A mystery for future me to unravel, I guess. Right now, I was too tired to care.
After sitting there for a while and catching my breath, I eventually forced myself back on my feet. I tossed the bloody, chipped sword aside and picked up a cleaner one from the battlefield. The thing wasn't great, but it was leagues better than the bent tin scrap I'd been swinging around. I also grabbed a torch—thankfully, it hadn't burned out yet—and with both in hand, I pushed forward.
The cave stretched on longer than I expected. I walked. And walked. And kept walking. Almost half an hour straight of winding tunnels, dripping water, and eerie silence. No goblins, no monsters, nothing. Just me, my footsteps echoing against the stone, and the faint crackle of the torchlight.
Along the way, I scooped up more rocks I deemed "worthy additions" to the Nolan Arsenal™. I was picky this time—none of that pebble nonsense. Only good-sized throwing stones. You never know when you'll need to bean another ugly monster in the head.
Finally, after what felt like forever, the tunnel opened up.
And there it was.
A massive door.
It stood towering over me, stretching up maybe ten feet tall—or possibly taller. Hard to say, since I'm not exactly blessed in the height department. Yeah, being five-foot-five kinda makes everything look massive. But even accounting for my short-king disadvantage, this door was huge.
The surface was dark, carved with faint markings I couldn't quite make out in the torchlight. The air around it felt… heavier, like the cave itself was holding its breath.
I tightened my grip on the sword and torch, my stomach twisting with a mix of fear and curiosity.
"Well," I muttered, staring up at the ominous thing, "what's behind Door Number One?"