Ember felt his eyes water as he quickly crawled away from the goblin. It grinned at him, or at least what he assumed was a grin. It looked very similar to the one he saw in the artificial dungeon, except its arms were a little shorter and it was stockier. Ember’s breath came in pants as he struggled with the pain that was searing the right side of his face. He wanted to scream, but he knew if he did, Chris and Boulder would hear him—and they were still fighting. So he bit his lip so hard it bled as he whimpered and crawled back.
In the goblin’s right hand was a short sword. It was something he hadn’t noticed before. The goblin sneered at him. It knew it was stronger than him. Ember’s hand dropped to the sword lying beside him. Despite his hand being slick with blood, that didn’t stop him. He shakily stood up and gripped it with both hands.
He could feel the warm blood drip down his face, but he managed to open his right eye. He hadn’t lost it. A rush of relief went through him. He could still see, but his vision was completely red. Every nerve in Ember’s body screamed for him to run away, but he squashed it. If he didn’t kill this thing here and now, it would kill the only lifeline he had in this world. Chris was the only thing separating him from a ghastly end. It was now or never.
Ember took a deep breath and stared the creature down. It took several steps forward, but they weren’t quick—they were taunting, slow. It was confident it could kill Ember. He took several steps back in response.
Okay, okay, okay. I trained for this. I’ve got this. It’s just my head on the line. Don’t let the fear get to you.
He tried everything he could to calm down his slamming heart, but nothing worked. His hands shook, and the blood felt disgusting on his skin. His legs trembled as he tried to still his nerves. Blood pounded relentlessly in his ears, the sound of the forest and his own heavy panting fading.
Ember took a shaky breath and watched the creature. It didn’t make any moves. Ember wasn’t sure if it was satisfied watching him struggle or letting him make the first move. He gritted his teeth, hands gripping the hilt hard enough to hurt, focusing on the pain on his face to distract from the rest of his body. It helped him catch his breath and clear the fog of panic.
With gritted teeth, Ember lunged, letting his instincts take over. He couldn’t trust his mind, so he leapt forward. He would die either way, but running would guarantee his demise. He kept his sword near his center, so he could react to anything. At least he hoped.
As he got within just a few feet, the creature also lunged, the short sword flashing in the orange glow of the sunset. Ember just barely managed to bring his sword up to deflect it in time. He could barely see anything out of his right eye, and it was messing with his depth perception. He felt the blade slide across his leather chest plate, and Ember jumped back, wiping blood from his face quickly. The goblin didn’t give him time to gather as it ran at him. Ember watched the monster's arm.
My perception is off. I can’t rely on watching its weapon. He tensed as the next attack came.
The next blow came from above. Ember brought his blade up to meet it, angling the edge so it slid off. His arms jerked as the blade came into contact with his, and the sound of metal grinding on metal filled the forest. As the short sword slid off the tip, he swiped upward. Ember felt the smallest tug on his blade as it clipped the goblin. The creature jumped back. It wasn’t so cocky now, as a small trail of blood dripped down its chest. It growled. Ember felt a flutter of satisfaction go through him. Clearly, the creature did not share the same view.
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It snarled, its lipless mouth opening. Ember’s confidence immediately shattered. It was just so terrifying and disgusting.
I can’t kill this thing. Not without a little bit of help.
So, Ember did something he shouldn’t have. He closed his eyes. He knew this was risky, but he didn’t have a choice. It was either this or he died. Ember could hear the creature start to move forward, but focused all his attention on filling his cup.
The usual torrent of ichor poured into the cup in his mind, and quickly it reached the edge. It took all his effort to force the torrent to come to a trickle—just enough for it to overflow. He could feel the biting cold move up his arm and pool into his chest. It was cold. Far colder than usual. Then it overflowed, warmth spreading outward to every corner of his body, like being wrapped in a heated blanket on a cold day.
Immediately, every single sense was turned up to eleven. He could hear the creature breathing, the sounds it made in its mouth as its tongue moved around. Once Ember opened his eyes, he could see the tiny goosebumps all across its skin—and smell it. It was enough to make him gag. But the most important thing was that he felt strength flow through his body.
The sword flashed gold—the gold then solidified around the blade and disappeared. The ichor was still trickling in, but it wasn’t enough to make him overflow to the point where he was using his own life force. His body felt steady. Strong. It was almost intoxicating.
The monster screamed as it charged, and Ember knew he could kill it.
The goblin came at him with a barrage of attacks. lunges, vertical and horizontal slashes, and even a few punches. Ember angled his weapon to deflect the blows, getting pushed back, step by step. However, he didn’t feel like he was losing. His arms could finally keep up with his reaction speed, and it made everything easier. Even so, a few attacks got through, scraping against his skin, small slits appearing on his arms. Ember paid no attention to it. He had to be patient. To wait for the creature to make a mistake.
Then the goblin went for a vertical slash, but it was a step too slow. It seemed that it had tired itself out or faltered, and Ember took advantage of it. As soon as its hand started to come down, he dodged to the left and stepped forward, raising his blade at the same time. With a brutal upward slash, his sword went straight through the creature’s wrist.
Before it even had time to scream, Ember altered the trajectory and went in a triangle motion—down to his left, then straight across the creature’s neck. For several seconds, it stood there, its mouth open, and then its head came off and flopped onto the forest floor.
His breath came in heaves as he stared at the dead creature, its body still twitching. I did it. I killed it. A surge of pride washed through him. He had finally seen some progress.
However, he celebrated too soon. Searing pain exploded throughout his entire body. Ember gasped as he fell to his knees. I’m still overflowing. I need to stop. That was easier said than done. His mind had frozen, put into a trance-like state as he continued to overflow. Stop. I said stop. He shouted into the void that was his mind. It took all his concentration to pry his fingers off the hilt, having to consciously remove a finger at a time.
Ember collapsed onto the forest floor, panting heavily. The high from using overflow had vanished, as well as the searing pain. All that was left was the aching sensation of the various cuts and scratches he had sustained, as well as the throbbing on his face.
But he had killed it. The goblin was dead. I finally did something without help. He glanced at the sword by his side. I even managed to use overflow in combat. I’m getting better. A large smile plastered across his face. I’ve finally reached the starting line.
Ember ran a hand gingerly across the cut and winced as his entire face flared up. He let out a groan as the entire right side of his face dripped with blood. I can’t stay here. I’ll bleed out if I don’t get help. Using his sword as a crutch, he hauled himself to his feet.
Ember turned his attention to the creature and poked the dead monster with his foot as he passed, the now headless monster’s black blood staining the forest floor.
“Asshole,” he muttered, “But I guess I should thank you. You were the first stone on my path. Burn in hell, dick.”
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