The cavern was silent.
Not the kind of silence born from peace.
This was the breathless stillness that comes right before steel draws blood. The kind that weighs on your shoulders. The kind that listens.
The air pulsed around me, humming with a kind of magic that wasn't meant to be tamed. High magic. Unstable. Dangerous. It soaked into the stone walls like ancient breath. Faint mists curled along the cracked path at my feet, stirred only when I stepped forward. The walls shimmered dimly with jagged amethyst crystals wedged into deep crevices, glowing just enough to cast long, uneven shadows ahead of me.
They hummed softly. A distant sound, like lullabies sung by things long forgotten.
I moved slow. Deliberate. My fingers hovered near the hilt of my katana, never far, never relaxed. Each step brought me deeper into the mountain's throat, where air thinned and light narrowed to a thread.
They had fled here. Goblin bandits.
They'd raided three villages and left blood on every road. I had tracked them alone. Not because the bounty was worth much, but because someone had to. Because I was the only one willing to follow them this far. Whatever I was now... this was what I did.
Up ahead, the crystal light began to fade. One by one, they thinned like stars before a storm. Their glow sputtered, flickering out into the dark. The tunnel closed in, narrowing like ribs around a lung. The temperature dropped. I passed beneath a half-collapsed arch, and stopped.
Beyond this point, the crystals were gone. Only shadow remained.
I shifted my weight, lowering into a balanced stance. Knees bent. Breath steady. One hand slid down to my side and curled around the worn leather of my hilt. Stillness. Listening. Waiting.
Then,
A breath. Not mine.
My arm moved without thought.
Steel sang as it slid from its sheath, whisper-sharp. I cut a horizontal line through the dark, not a warning, not a feint. One clean stroke.
Something thudded onto the stone floor.
A body. Then its head.
I exhaled once.
Then the trap sprung.
Shapes lunged out from the dark. Snarling, screeching. Goblins. At least six of them, maybe more. Thin, feral creatures with mismatched armor and weapons carved from trash and cruelty. Their eyes glinted. They wanted blood.
Two stayed behind, bows already drawn, letting loose in quick succession.
I moved.
The first arrow passed where I had been a second before. The second I caught mid-spin with the flat of my blade and turned aside. The third tore across my cheek, close enough to sting. The fourth missed. The fifth shattered against stone.
Behind me. A step. A hiss. A strike.
I dropped low, letting my back arch just enough for the goblin's swing to miss. I pivoted on my heel, twisted beneath his reach, and kicked backward. My leg swept his ankles out and before he could even cry out, I turned and crushed my heel down into his throat.
More came.
Three rushed me. Short swords and clubs raised high.
The first jabbed, wide, desperate. I sidestepped and parried, turned his momentum, then drove my elbow straight into his face. Bone cracked under the blow.
The second was faster, but not fast enough. I turned with the movement and slashed a clean diagonal across his chest. Blood painted the wall behind him.
The third screamed something in their broken tongue and swung down with a jagged club. I caught his wrist mid-swing, twisted, then slammed the hilt of my katana into his chest. Again. Again. The goblin gasped, then collapsed.
Silence returned, just for a breath.
An arrow came flying. I caught it in the crook of my arm.
My eyes found the two archers, still loading.
I reached down, grabbed the limp goblin I'd just dropped, and lifted it like a shield.
Thud.
Thwack.
Two arrows sank into the corpse. One in the shoulder, one in the gut.
I kept walking.
Another arrow hit the back. I didn't stop. Steps slow. Controlled. My blade still warm in my hand.
Then I threw the body.
It smashed into one of the archers and sent them crashing back into the rock wall.
The other tried to ready another shot. I was already moving.
I lunged low, reached forward, and grabbed the base of his bow. He fired, too late, and the arrow flew wide. I yanked the weapon from his grip and dropped beneath him.
There, on the ground, an arrow.
I snatched it with my teeth, rolled onto my back under the goblin, aimed up.
One breath.
One shot.
The arrow drove up under his chin, through flesh, through skull, through brain. His body jerked, then slumped to the side.
I pushed up from the stone and stood slowly.
Only one goblin remained, the one I'd knocked over.
He was trying to crawl away. His arms trembled. His face twisted with fear. Blood smeared across the stone floor beneath him.
I walked toward him. My katana dragged a faint line through the dust. Step by step. I didn't run. I didn't need to.
He looked up at me, trembling, eyes wide, mouth open.
"RA-CHAAAAAN!"
The world cracked like glass.
The cave dissolved. The walls fell away. The amethyst glow vanished into the mundane yellow of my desk lamp. The goblin's scream melted into something far worse.
Senpai.
I was in my room. Still crouched. Katana mid-swing. One sock on. Papers and dice everywhere.
In the doorway stood Senna. Still in her uniform, frilled apron slightly askew, black stockings rumpled at the knees, and a towel draped lazily over one shoulder. Her arms were crossed, and she held a half-filled laundry basket against her hip with a tired, pointed look.
"You forgot to take the laundry out of the machine," she said, with the voice of someone who'd had this conversation too many times.
I blinked. "...I was in the middle of something."
She raised an eyebrow. "Let me guess, goblins."
"Technically, bandits."
"Uh-huh."
She rolled her eyes. "You need real friends."
She turned to leave, but left the door wide open behind her. Like always.
I stayed still for a moment.
Then sighed.
The silence returned. Not the kind that hides danger, just the kind that reminds you you're alone..
Maybe she was right.
My name is Ranjiro Akizora
And this is my story about how I built a dungeon party with zero points into Charisma.