Chapter 29

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[Floor 4 – Day 1]

[Total Days in Trial: 117]

Goblins were one of the few monsters I had real experience with. I'd fought them on the 3rd Floor, and long before that I'd read about them back on Earth. Of the rifts that had opened, Goblins were some of the first monsters documented to have appeared. There had been videos on the internet of soldiers fighting them, which got pulled down as quickly as they were posted. There were images from people's cell phones of "little green men" invading, which again seemed to be removed quickly, at least in the early days. And while I'd never personally read any of the supposed government documents that referenced dissections on monsters, despite my best efforts to find them, I could at least infer a little from people who claimed to have seen them.

Knowing all of that, I suppose I should have breathed a sigh of relief. I'd been terrified, and in some sense I still was, but I had to remind myself: This was only the fourth Floor. While there was no denying the [Trial] had been brutally difficult up until this point, I also had to remember that half my troubles had been of my body's own making. Plus, if I really stopped to think about it, this Floor was probably going to be the easiest thing I'd had to face. I was going to have to fight and kill monsters, but it seemed likely I'd be done with all of this in a few hours, relative to an entire month. So, if I wanted to put a positive spin on this, it was like I was getting all the danger and hard work out of the way in a condensed amount of time.

I hadn't chosen Ambitious. I hadn't increased the difficulty of the [Trial] past what it would have already been.

It really could have been so much worse.

Goblins were nowhere near as threatening as say, a Dragon. Or a Gryphon, Hell-Hound, Troll, Orc, or whatever the heck those crocodile-looking things were that the military had to bomb out of France... In fact, thanks to the 3rd Floor's D-Ranked Quests, I knew with first-hand experience that I could defeat a Goblin. As far as dangers went, they were low on the totem pole.

Excuses.

Excuses.

Excuses.

All true, and yet all so very wrong.

After all my time with the bow as my main weapon of choice, I had begun to find myself developing a bad habit of trying to buffer out fear with logic. Instead of just accepting fear, and overcoming it, I just stalled it. My brain would try and trick the rest of my actions into being confident, because it helped me to avoid the nervous shaking that came with adrenaline and life or death situations. If I wanted to make my shots count, I had found it helped not to be so nervous that my arms wouldn't stay in position. I needed to breathe, to aim, and release. And as a result, I'd seemed to have created some weird mental crutch. A trick of saying: "Sure, whatever is scary and dangerous is logically a threat, but..."

In that moment, I found was doing just that. Over and over. I was even self-aware enough to mentally stand aside and listen. Yes, Goblins were dangerous, but they were relatively weak when compared to a normal human male who was in decent physical shape. Yes, they were ruthless, but they were not extremely intelligent. And yes, they were fast and lethal, but in a fair fight they weren't difficult to kill.

The problem was that my strategy for doing these calming excuses, usually meant that I was throwing arrows at the danger. More often than not, I was in fact killing the danger before it ever managed to get close to me. But without a bow, that was entirely pointless. And all I was doing was slowing down the rising panic that was getting closer with every green throated screech.

The other problem, was that my mental excuses were terrible. As a result, I was tearing down my own efforts to keep the fear at bay just as quickly as I could come up with them.

Goblins were weak monsters? Sure, but they were still wickedly good at killing things. Goblins weren't intelligent? As if that mattered. Goblins made up for that by being reckless, underhanded, and embracing a bad habit of suicidally disregarding their own well-being. I could beat one in a fair fight? When the hell had Goblins ever fought fair? If you were fighting a Goblin, you were never just fighting one Goblin, it was almost always dozens of them. Generally, all at the same time.

Which, was exactly what was happening in the arena.

They came at us like a wave, spilling onto the sand, and I was a nervous wreck holding a weapon I barely knew how to properly use.

My first instincts, to try and stick close to the shields, had been good. Once they had realized what was coming for us, the shield-group began to take careful steps backwards. Together, the Goblin's initial charge was lessened from a rapid sprint, to the relative pace of a brisk jog. The Goblins were rushing as fast as they could, but even a slow walk backwards from that allowed the fastest of the Goblin numbers to begin to split from the masses and come out ahead.

Those ones died extremely quickly.

With clear military discipline, I saw short swords strike forward, and ruthlessly cut into the snarling green flesh. When one of the smarter Goblins attempted to rush past and attack from the side of the shields, it was brutally crushed by a giant wooden club. It was as if the disgraced Captain were a giant, facing off against children.

Very hungry, evil, vicious, children- but still.

"Two more steps!" Dzamil barked his orders as the next quickest batch of Goblins reached them. Green hands, with long nails like claws, went grasping for the shields. They thrashed, trying to tear them free or climb over top. "Forward!" The men suddenly stopped, then rebuffed the creatures with a shove. With drilled effectiveness, they sent another group of screaming Goblins sprawling onto the sand, finishing them quickly with their swords.

The tactic was lethal. I was impressed enough, my fear almost started to lessen. But, effective or not: there were many more Goblins left to go.

Around us, already I could see the smaller groups of men fighting. Some had tried similar approaches, taking backsteps, cutting down whatever reached them, but there was only so long that could work. With more and more of the Goblins peeling off from the initial horde, they were starting to get surrounded. And for those men who had not chosen to stand group at all: things were worse.

Men screamed, as they were swarmed. I saw some being brought down by suicidal tackles. One after the next, slamming into them as they tried to fend off their attackers. That was followed with a dozen more green hands, tearing into them as they went under. Worse, were those who were strong enough to hold back the first few, being dragged down by bites, as every Goblin cut down was simply being replaced by another- until they could finally take the person's neck.

In a sickening way, it reminded me of how lions would grapple their prey to the ground. They went about it by strangling and biting until the fight was gone. There was no honorable duel, here. It was just savage, primal, and ruthless.

"TWO MORE STEPS!" Over the screams, the order sounded and the shields in front of me backed up further. "Forward!" The attack repeated. More Goblins died, but this time the stabbing through the shield wall didn't end. More and more enemies were swarming in. The large club was sweeping into those trying to circle around, but it was heavy. Fast as it could move in one direction, getting moving in another took precious time. The green horde was soaking into them, getting under their guard, and that group could no longer retreat further.

And yet, even surrounded and overwhelmed: they were clearly my best chance at staying alive.

Without waiting any longer, I hurled my first spear and was rewarded as it flew relatively true. Though I was no marksman with spears, a Goblin trying to sweep up on the left side of the shields fell, howling in pain as the metal tip took it through the belly. Grabbing my second spear, I threw again. This time, I cursed as it missing my second target, and I quickly had to fumble at another shaft. My nerves were getting to me, as the distance I'd been hoping to maintain, quickly dissolved. Many of the Goblins had noticed easier prey, and were flowing around the shields towards me, instead.

The second Goblin I killed, died screaming. It ran right on my weapon, like an idiot. Angry, hungry, recklessly, it came clawing up the wood, still coming for me with claws and teeth as it bled out. Abandoning the weapon, I grabbed my fourth spear, and realized I was quickly running low on further supply. Yet, I didn't have much time to concern myself with this, because another green form was jumping at me.

Stabbing a third Goblin, I tried twisting it to the ground and kicked down with my bare foot in an effort to rip the creature off of it. I did a poor imitation of a sword form I knew, but didn't count on the creature flailing violently, and so the spear broke. Which meant that I had to stab a fourth attacker with the remaining broken piece, twice, while earning nasty scratches on my arms. Throwing those aside, I backpedaled as quickly as I could, rushing back for the fifth spear.

"Fuck!" I yelled in anger, as yet another Goblin was coming at me. I blocked it, slamming it back with both hands on the spear's shaft, trying to stab it quickly like farmer might stab a pitchfork, but this one was smart. Screeching, it scurried backwards as two more of its comrades came at me. One of them had the spear I'd thrown earlier, and it forced me to dodge as I blocked with a very clumsy parrying attempt. "Fuck!"

The Goblins weren't very clever, but they weren't total idiots. I hadn't realized how terrible my weapon choice had been. They used tools. They wore terrible armor, sometimes. Of course if they found a spear, they would try and stab me with it! What the hell was I thinking!

Worse: They were picking up other weapons, too. They were using whatever they came across, and as a result they were getting more dangerous by the second.

I parried another stab, and I kicked that particular individual as hard as I could with a forward thrust. One, in which I almost broke my toes. Still, I shoved my foot into the Goblin's ribs, and I saw its eyes bulge in agony before I managed to lash out and stab it in the belly. The spear head ripping through and out the side of it, spilling contents I didn't want to think about onto the sand. Yet, that was the last real chance I had to keep my composure.

My sense of holding an organized battle against one or two opponents fell apart rapidly.

I turned, and reacted to find something mid-air, teeth heading for my neck. Ducking down, I barely managed to catch the creature with my elbow. Another took me from the side, in a tackle that did no favors to my foot positioning, and I rolled to the ground, holding snapping teeth away by the throat, while I whipped my spear to try and scare the others back.

There were so many of them.

I was surrounded.

Rolling so I was on top, I broke the creature's neck- or I hoped I did, as I went flailing about with my spear. The weapon found a target, mostly by luck, and yet another Goblin screamed. Of course, it latched onto what stabbed it, and my spear broke again as I tried to rip it free. Left with the remaining wooden piece, I could do little more than stick them with the pointy end. I poorly punctured a different Goblin's eye. I managed to use the wood to block a sword- where had it gotten a sword? I didn't know, but the swing had been sloppy and the wood just barely took the cut meant for my chest. I tackled that one, breaking its elbow as we landed on a corpse, and I pried the weapon free, only to lose it in the belly of an entirely different Goblin not a second later.

Showered in blood, I tried to stand, just in time to be tackled by another three, all unarmed and trying to grapple me into submission.

"FUCK!" This time I wasn't strong enough. They were like dense, body-building, cannibalistic, children. Each of them worked together to try and pin me, to keep my body from finding leverage.

And I hated them more than anything.

"DAMN IT!" I half yelled, half screamed, as I tried to break free. There were more coming. They were going to bury me. If one hadn't been terrifying enough, trying to deal with so many was horrific. I was stumbling back to the ground. They were going to pull me down. They were going to kill me.

[Strength+ 1] [Strength+ 1]

I felt the Menu responding to my instinctive panic. My Free points began to empty, and my muscles screamed, as I rolled back and kicked a green body as it jumped at me, catching it, then sending it flying back. I got my left arm free, and I lashed out with the hardest backhand I had ever thrown. A head spun, disjointed from its shoulders.

Another Goblin tackled me, gnawing on my arm as I barely kept it away from my face.

It wasn't enough.

I needed more.

[Strength+ 1]

"DAMN YOU!" I roared as I fought. Like a cornered animal, I thrashed. I kicked, I punched, I stomped: I stabbed with broken pieces of spear, with a rusted sword, with my own fingers, wrapping around whatever neck I could find. I threw my elbows out as hard as I could. I felt bones snapping under my blows. When they brought me to the ground, I choked them. When they bit me, I bit them back. As one latched onto my throat, I stuffed my hand into its throat and pried it off of me by its lower jaw.

There was no grace, nor strategy, nor elegance, in this fight.

As I screamed, I did so in both anger and terror. As I attacked, I did so in the primitive violence of a man who wanted to murder whatever was coming for him, because I refused to die here. Didn't they know that? I was a survivor. The world ended, and I lived on. The mountain had sought to break my spirit, and I'd conquered its summit. The demons had come to mock my pitiful existence, and I had patiently slipped through their grasp. My body failed me, every single fucking day, for years and years on fucking end: and I continued to cheat death.

These stupid, hungry, things: They really thought they could snuff out my life? They thought they could kill me? They thought they could bring me to an end?

I spit out blood that wasn't mine.

My chest was heaving. My shoulders ached, and my arms and torso were covered with cuts, bites, punctured skin and bruises.

After what seemed like an eternity, though, I had finally found myself alone. Panting heavily for air, I stood in a puddle of bloody sand. My hands clutched two splintered pieces of wood, now more stakes than spears, barely longer than a foot a piece. Their metal points were painted red, dripping with gore. Dropping them, I stumbled forward, yanking free a sword from a pile of corpses. I scanned the arena, looking for more enemies, but nothing green and hungry came for me.

Everything hurt.

It was setting in. Everything hurt, and this was just the first fight.

My body had dumped so much adrenaline into my system, I could still feel my legs were starting to shake. My breathing pattern was no better, barely able to even go through a pale imitation of the normal cycle I had come to rely on. I had to guess Poison Resistance was helping to keep me upright, because all that physical activity had probably thrown my body entirely out of wack. I felt like throwing up.

"Well done." A deep voice acknowledged me, and I turned to find the large man. His club was bloody, but he seemed mostly untouched. The shield users beside him had relaxed, many nodding in my direction. "We did better than I expected."

Around us, I spotted only a handful of men seemed to be left standing. Many of them, just barely so. Propped up against the Arena wall, or leaning on their weapons. As the pounding within my ribs began to slow, I counted just fourteen people left, including myself.

Our number had been cut in half...

I spit out the horrible taste of iron and filth. Despite all the Strength I had dumped into my system, the sword in my hand felt heavy. In fact, my whole body did too. The daze of being tired, and hurt, and surprisingly hungry, were all setting in. My head was throbbing, and I wished I could hurry up and cast the Miracle to make the pain go away. Reaching for Mana, I found I was still lacking.

The grinding noise of another gate, sounded.

The cheers of the crowds, boomed all around me.

The menu pinged.

[Floor 4 – Secondary Condition:] [Win The First Fight] - 1/1

[Complete]

"Ping" [Win The Second Fight] - 0/1