Chapter 12

  Avan slumped against the tunnel wall, torchlight flickering across his pale face, the acrid taste of bile still sharp on his tongue. His chest heaved, each breath a struggle against the cave’s festering stench—feces, blood, and the sickly sweet rot of death. Yue trembled opposite him, her orange eyes wide with terror, tears glinting in the dim glow as she clutched her daggers, knuckles white. The carnage they’d glimpsed—goblins snoring amidst burst corpses, entrails glistening in pools of crimson—burned into his mind, a grotesque tableau he couldn’t unsee. His *Celestial Dungeonheart* sphere pulsed, confirming the five goblins still slept, oblivious, but the horror drowned out its clarity. Horny huddled between them, fur bristling, a quiet growl rumbling from his throat.

  Silence stretched, heavy and suffocating, until Avan’s jaw clenched, anger surging past the nausea. “These bastards…” he whispered, voice raw, furious, his translucent white hair—flecked with gold—falling into his eyes as he glared at Yue. “Let’s finish these things now. We’ll deal with… that later.” She nodded, tears spilling, but her gaze hardened, a spark of resolve cutting through her despair. He yanked his spear from his backpack, the wooden shaft rough against his bandaged right arm, its tip glinting faintly as he gripped it with clenched fists, *Origin Energy* tingling beneath his skin, ready to flare. He wasn′t as good with a spear as he was with his bare hands thanks for some minor training years ago, but starting with a deadly weapon to make full use of a surprise attack was now the main focus.

  “Can you take the small ones before they wake?” he murmured over his shoulder, voice low, steady despite the pounding in his chest. “I’ll handle the bigger two.” Yue’s nod was sharp, decisive, her daggers flashing as she adjusted her stance. They crept back into the cave, the torch’s glow dimmed to a faint ember in his hand, shadows stretching long and jagged across the filth-strewn floor. His enchanted boots padded silently, *Dexterity* (25) guiding each step, while his sphere tracked the goblins—three *Fodder Goblins*, small and wiry, curled in a heap; two *Goblin Brutes*, hulking masses sprawled against the wall, their snores a guttural rasp.

  Avan positioned himself over the nearest *Goblin Brute*, its chest rising and falling, oblivious to the spear hovering above its throat. He glanced at Yue, crouched beside the smaller goblins, her daggers poised. A silent count—three, two, one—and they struck. His spear thrust downward, piercing the brute’s neck from below with a wet crunch, driving up into its brain, silencing it in an instant, a faint gurgle the only sound. Yue’s daggers flashed, one slicing through a *Fodder Goblin*’s throat, killing it cleanly, but the second blade lodged in the cheek of another, the goblin jerking awake with a piercing screech that shattered the silence.

  The cave erupted. The remaining *Fodder Goblin* flailed, blood spraying, waking the second *Goblin Brute* too. Avan spun, spear raised, as the brute—over two meters tall, pox-scarred and furious—lurched upright, its yellow eyes locking onto him with a snarl. He thrust again, aiming for its throat, but the brute twisted, the spear sinking into its right shoulder instead. It hissed, ripping the weapon free with a meaty tear, tossing it aside with a clatter, and lunged, massive hands clawing for his neck.

  Wing Tsun instincts kicked in, honed from years of sparring back in Frankfurt. Avan ducked sideways, slipping under the brute’s arm, *Steady* (Lv. 2) keeping his balance as he pivoted out of reach. His sphere tracked Yue—struggling with the wounded *Fodder Goblin*, its screeches echoing—while Horny awaited his command. Help her, he willed, the rabbit darting forward in a white blur, horn aimed at the goblin’s flank. Avan faced the brute, shifting his stance, favoring his left arm as pain flared in his injured right, the slightly strained claw wound still throbbing beneath its bandage.

  The *Goblin Brute* roared, swinging wide, its fists a blur of raw power. Avan flowed with it, ducking left, then right, *Dexterity* (25) turning his movements fluid, precise. He stepped in, striking—left fist slamming its wounded shoulder, widening the gash, then a sharp jab to its ribs, bone crunching under his knuckles. The brute hissed, grabbing for his wrist, and Avan twisted, but a loose stone snagged his boot. He stumbled, footing lost, and threw himself back, landing hard on his rear, the impact jarring his spine. His passive *Steady* not enough in the heat of the fight to negate all unstable ground, yet.

  The brute pounced, fists raised to crush him, a shadow of muscle and rage. Avan rolled left, *Pain Resistance* (Lv. 2) dulling the sting as the blow grazed his right shoulder, a sickening pop signaling dislocation. He scrambled up, gasping, left arm raised in a shaky stance as the brute charged again—until a white streak struck. Horny rammed its horn into the back of the goblin’s head, a glancing blow, but enough to stagger it, arms flailing. Avan seized the moment, lunging forward, left fist slamming its larynx with a crack, cutting off its breath. The brute clutched its throat, gagging, and Yue leapt from the side, daggers plunging into its eye sockets with a wet squelch.

  It collapsed, a lifeless thud shaking the ground, blood pooling beneath its ruined face. Avan panted, chest heaving, glancing at Yue—her daggers dripping, the last *Fodder Goblin* dead at her feet, Horny cleaning itself nonchalantly beside her. “Thanks, Yue… and you, Horny,” he rasped, voice strained, scanning them for wounds. “All dead? You okay?” She shook her head, adrenaline fading, sobs breaking free as she sank to her knees, daggers clattering. Horny hopped over, nuzzling her leg, and Avan winced, gripping his dislocated shoulder, the pain sharp despite *Origin Healing* (Lv. 3) working to dull it.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  He surveyed the cave—goblin corpses sprawled in heaps, the human remains a grim testament to their brutality. With a grunt, he braced his right arm against his side, jerking it back into place, teeth gritted as a pop echoed, *Pain Resistance* softening the edge. “We need to bury them, Yue,” he said gently, squeezing her shoulder with his left hand, offering a lifeline through her grief. “Give them peace. Will you help?” She looked up, tears streaking her grimy face, and threw herself into his surprised arms, sobbing into his chest. He held her, stroking her head between the fox-like ears, their softness a stark contrast to the cave’s horrors, waiting as her cries softened.

  A minute later, she pulled back, embarrassed, wiping her face with a sleeve, and turned to the corpses. Together, they carried the women out first, silent, the weight of loss heavy in every step. Outside, beneath the alien sky—two moons pale against the dusk—they laid the bodies beside the men from the surface and the cave, a row of silent figures in the clearing. Avan stood with Yue, torch extinguished, the quiet stretching as they paid their respects, the forest’s whispers their only company.

  “I’ll get wood,” he murmured, voice soft. “Take your time—say goodbye. Call if you need me.” She nodded, eyes fixed on her fallen friends, and he trudged into the trees, Horny trailing behind. His mind churned, the goblin slaughter replaying—burst bellies, blood, a purpose he couldn’t grasp. Not random—someone’s behind this. He gathered dry branches, arms full, returning trip after trip, building a pyre with methodical care, the task a balm against his anger. System chimes pinged, muted since the fight, and he dismissed them for later—grief came first.

  An hour passed, the pyre complete, the bodies arranged with dignity. Avan lit a new torch with flint and knife, the old one long burned out, and handed it to Yue. Her hands trembled, tears glinting as she took it, a sad smile breaking through. She touched the flame to the wood, and it caught, crackling as it consumed the pyre, smoke curling skyward. They watched in silence, the fire’s roar a farewell, until only ashes remained, glowing faintly in the twilight.

  Yue broke the quiet, voice small but firm. “I need to go to Cyntha—tell their families, the guild, about this… the goblins. I want to repay you for saving me by following you, but this needs to be done first. Will you wait or do you want to come with me to the town?” Avan met her gaze, sober, steady. “You owe me nothing—I’ve said it before. I’ll go with you to town, keep you safe, but I won’t intrude on their grief. If you want to join me after, I’d be glad to have you of course.” After this hell, I need answers—people, info, and a fight to burn this rage out, he thought, the dungeon’s pull tugging at him.

  She nodded, a sad smile flickering. “I’ll need time—families, guild reports, the dead goblins. You could explore that dungeon. But please be careful… don’t die in there and go too deep. I’ll come looking for you or wait in town.” He dug into his pack, pulling out the necklace from the camp, its locket glinting. “Found this yesterday—wolf attack, dead adventurers. Can you get it to the guild, find his kin?” She took it, understanding softening her features, and promised to handle it.

  They gathered trinkets from the fallen they had kept on a separate pile—rings, a bracelet, tokens of memory—and set off for Cyntha, only a thirty-minute trek through the forest, Horny hopping alongside. The village emerged from the trees, wooden walls and torchlit gates stark against the dusk. Yue hugged him, fierce and brief, then ran to the guards, wiping a tear as she explained. They glanced at Avan, wary, but waved her through. He watched until she vanished into the streets, then turned back, the dungeon’s call a quiet hum in his chest. Avan really wanted to visit the town, too. But something called him to the dungeon first. So he hesitantly moved back the way they came.

  Half an hour later, he stood before the dungeon doors again, their blue runes pulsing faintly, the murals a riddle he’d yet to crack. Hands on, mana in—simple, yet his earlier attempts had failed, *Origin Energy* stalling against the barrier. His sphere couldn’t pierce the stone, the runes blocking his perception, a puzzle teasing his *Origin Language – Runescript of the Origin*. Need more—mana’s the key, meditation maybe, like those games with Dave. He sank against the opposite wall, legs crossed, torch propped beside him, and closed his eyes, breathing deep, slow, calming the storm within.

  Minutes stretched, the world fading—forest whispers, Horny’s soft breaths—until a sensation bloomed, deep and vast, an ocean within his core. His soul, he knew instinctively, its surface rippling as he probed it, gentle waves radiating outward, powerful yet serene. Another energy flickered, lighter, wavier, threading through the air around him—ambient mana, tied to his sphere, thin lines linking it to his soul’s depths. This is it—soul core, mana, all connected. He opened his eyes, the feeling lingering, a quiet strength pulsing in his chest.

  Standing, he approached the doors, hands pressing against the cool stone, *Origin Energy Manipulation* (Lv. 3) guiding mana from his core through his arms, silver and violet sparking faintly. The runes flared, a resonant boom shaking the tunnel as blue light surged, the doors grinding open with a screech, revealing a dark hallway beyond. The stench of goblin filth faded, replaced by a stale, dusty scent—old, stagnant, but laced with a hint of freshness, a promise of what lay ahead.

  Crossing the threshold, mana thickened, dense and vibrant, flooding his sphere, a stark contrast to the trickle outside. A chime rang, bold and clear:

  *Chime*

  [You have entered the Dungeon: Tower of Akkalon]

  Avan grinned, a giddy laugh escaping. First dungeon in this new world—more monsters, traps, treasure. Let’s go! Horny hopped beside him, and he stepped forward, the hallway stretching into shadow, the *Seed of Origin* humming in his chest, eager for what awaited.