A week later...
Azrael took a deep breath, exhaling slowly as he looked out over the winding forest trail ahead. The sun filtered through the canopy, dappled light falling across his tattered clothing and dirt-smudged face. His muscles ached, but he pushed forward. It had been a week since he had seen Lyra. A week since he vanished into the unknown to complete the system's missions and train for what lay ahead. He wondered how she was doing, if she was still mad at herself for not being able to come with him. He hoped she was safe. Strong.
In a distant city, in the comfort of her room, Lyra stood by the window. The late morning sun kissed her skin, glinting off her silver hair as a soft breeze fluttered the curtains. Her golden eyes were locked on the horizon, but her thoughts were far away.
Her nose twitched.
"Achoo!"
She blinked, wiping her nose with a tissue. A bittersweet smile crossed her face. "They say you sneeze when someone talks or thinks about you... could it be Azrael?" Her voice was barely above a whisper, filled with longing. "I miss him so much... It's already been a week, and I couldn't keep my promise to go with him... to prepare together for the academy."
A tear escaped, trailing down her cheek.
"I have to get stronger," she murmured, clenching her fists. "For when he returns... I'll be ready."
"Die!"
Azrael's voice echoed through the woods as his blade pierced through the chest of the goblin. With a strangled cry, the creature fell, lifeless. Azrael didn't even hesitate. He reached down and ripped out its core, the blackened crystal pulsing faintly in his hand before being absorbed into his inventory.
He looked around and noticed something odd. The goblin carried a bag a human-styled bag, worn leather with a zipper. He frowned. It didn't belong to the creature.
"Looted," he muttered, crouching to inspect it. "Probably from a group of unlucky adventurers."
Opening the bag, he found a few articles of clothing: a pair of dark jeans, a white hoodie, and a brown polo shirt. The hoodie was his color clean, pure white but something about it made him pause. Instead, he picked the brown polo, pulling off his own tattered shirt and replacing it. It fit, somewhat snug, but wearable.
He stored the rest in his inventory. Then, his eyes narrowed.
"Why would a goblin only loot clothes?" he muttered. "No food. No weapons. Just clothing?"
It didn't sit right with him. Goblins weren't smart, not typically. But this one had acted... intentionally.
Still, he didn't dwell. For now, his mission continued. South of the western border, always in a straight line that was his plan. His level had reached 21, and with it, his senses had sharpened. He could now smell the faintest of changes in the environment.
A new scent caught his attention ash. Not the lingering stench of an old fire, but the fresh remnants of one, like a recently extinguished campfire.
He stopped and sniffed the air.
"Someone was here," he said under his breath. No flames in sight, but the scent was fresh. He followed it, careful with each step, ducking under branches, keeping low.
After nearly an hour, he reached the source: a ring of scorched wood, barely smoking, lay at the foot of a rocky outcrop. Beyond it, partially hidden by vines, was a cave. Not just any cave it was massive.
He approached with caution. The entrance was wide, but what lay inside was even more shocking. A tunnel, far too large to be natural, extended into the darkness. The walls were smooth, reinforced with strange rock, and lit by crystals embedded at regular intervals.
"Mana crystals," Azrael murmured, staring at their soft blue glow. Someone or something made this.
Still, curiosity outweighed caution. He stepped in.
Back in the city, a shadowed figure moved through the alleyways, their presence barely noticeable. Dressed in black, face hidden beneath a hood, the figure moved with the fluid grace of a trained killer. They approached a small phone booth and picked up the receiver, dialing a number from memory.
"Hello?"
"Hello, sir," the figure answered. Their voice was neutral, respectful.
"So... how was it?" came a mysterious voice from the other end.
"He's been missing for a week. His phone is still at their apartment."
A pause.
"Hmm. Very well. Keep a watchful eye on my daughter. This world is not what she believes it to be. If you find anything anything about him, I want to know immediately. Are we clear?"
"Yes, sir."
The call ended.
The figure stood still for a moment, then melted back into the shadows.
Azrael stepped deeper into the cave-tunnel. It didn't feel like a dungeon, and yet the design, the eerie silence, and the odd humidity screamed danger. Then, he heard it.
Crunching. Slurping. Wet, grotesque sounds.
He crept forward, heart pounding. The tunnel opened into a massive chamber, and what he saw rooted him in place.
Dozens of goblins large and small, hunched and twisted feasted on the remains of a human. Bones cracked between jagged teeth. Blood stained the stone floor, and the air was thick with the stench of gore.
Azrael gagged, stepping back in horror. But his boot struck a loose stone.
*Clack.*
Every goblin stopped. Heads snapped in his direction.
"Shit," he hissed, drawing his blade.
The goblins snarled. Muscles bulged under their green skin. These weren't the weaklings he had faced before. These were... monstrous. A foot taller, wider, and more coordinated. They moved like predators.
The first one lunged.
Azrael dodged, slashing across its gut. It screamed, falling back, but three more charged. He parried, twisting between them, landing blow after blow. He was fast but they were coordinated.
Then, something hit him.
A massive club, swung by a towering goblin with blood-red eyes.
The force slammed into his side, launching him across the chamber. He crashed into the wall, coughing up blood.
"Ugh... damn it..." he wheezed.
The big one roared. As The others closed in.
Azrael gritted his teeth. Pain shot through his ribs at least two were broken. He reached into his inventory, pulling out a red vial and downing it. Warmth spread through his body as the potion took effect.
"Fine," he growled, rising shakily. "Let's dance."
He activated his skills Phantom Mirage**, Shadow whispers.
His body flickered with his speed which was decently fast.
The goblins charged, but his form split into three shadows, each moving independently. He ducked, weaved, and slashed through their ranks. Blood splattered the walls. Limbs flew.
The red-eyed goblin stepped forward, club raised. Azrael's real body lunged from the side, blade slicing across the creature's neck. It shrieked, stumbling back, blood gushing.
"You're not the only one who's evolved," Azrael said coldly.
The battle raged. Minutes passed like hours. When it was over, Azrael stood in the center of the chamber, panting. His blade dripped with blood. Around him lay the corpses of over twenty goblins.
He staggered, gripping his side.
"That... was too close." He muttered.
His system pinged.
[Level Up!]
[Current Level: 23]
[New Skill Unlocked: Veil of Suffering
The Ability to unleashes a burst of negative energy, shrouding enemies within a field of suffocating darkness that weakens their strength and morale.]
[Effect: Enemies within the veil suffer reduced speed and health regeneration for a short duration].
Azrael blinked. "Finally, something useful."
He limped toward the tunnel leading deeper into the lair. The light of mana crystals dimmed the further it went, but he didn't stop. Not yet.
He had to uncover what was truly going on. These goblins weren't natural. Someone or something was tampering with them.
And he intended to find out.
Far above, beyond stone and earth, the sun continued its lazy arc across the sky. And in the city, Lyra sat at her desk, fingers gripping a dagger as she practiced her control.
"I'll get stronger... no matter what it takes."
Neither knew it yet, but fate was already guiding them toward a future where their reunion would shake the very foundation of their world.
And in the shadows, others were watching.
Waiting.
soon he saw another group of goblings this time they were all wearing
clothes and seemed like they were trying to start a civilization, the sight of it made him scared of how horrible it would be if allowed to progress.
he couldn't help but cough in fright soon all eyes were on him, soon they gathered him but not with bloodlust but out of curiosity.
That was until Azrael thought he was mad when one with a cane and white hair spoke,
Boy what are you, and what sought of goblinoid being are you.
Azrael was dumb struck, his brain was about to explode when he conscience screamed.
since when did goblins speak he thought,
and what's this about goblinoid.Do they think only them are the intelligence species in the world.
Boy am asking you a question or do you not understand my tongue, which goblin ancestor is your bloodline from.