The goblins continued to inch closer, not running, but advancing at a steady, deliberate pace. Rain didn't know how or why, but he could feel something emanating from them—an invisible pressure that pressed against his skin.

  Bloodlust.

  These creatures truly wanted to kill them.

  That presence was nothing like Ashlore's. Ashlore had been overwhelming, his existence alone enough to suffocate the air, but there had been something else beneath it. A sense of rules. Of restraint. Even after witnessing him brutally kill a man—someone who was likely innocent—Rain had still felt that Ashlore lived by some kind of moral code.

  When Ashlore said, "I usually am not violent," Rain had believed him.

  The goblins were different.

  Their presence was weaker, far less intense, and yet far more crude. There was no intelligence behind it, no restraint—only hunger. That was why, despite everything, Rain wasn't as afraid of them as the others were.

  What was terrifying was their formation.

  At least six goblins approached them. Four advanced straight ahead, while one circled from the left and another from the right. They were flanking the group without hesitation, as if the tactic came naturally to them.

  Rain glanced back at the people behind him. Most of them looked terrified beyond reason, frozen in place. Rain would be lying if he said he wasn't scared too, but the fear didn't paralyze him the way it did the others.

  Many of them hadn't even equipped their weapons yet.

  Rain looked down at his own sword. The iron blade was dull in places, already chipped along the edge. It made sense. Why would the tower give quality equipment to beginners?

  As he tried to make sense of the situation, one conclusion became painfully clear.

  The group he was with on the first floor were cowards.

  Not all of them—but most. Only a handful had drawn their weapons, and even fewer looked ready to fight.

  The goblins continued their approach.

  The four in front were now only fifteen feet away. The two flanking ones remained farther out, roughly thirty feet to either side.

  Rain felt strangely confident. He didn't know why. Maybe it came from all the fantasy novels he had read in the past. Stories filled with monsters, towers, and trials. Goblins had always been there.

  And goblins were always weak.

  Seeing them in real life was horrifying—their size, their ugliness, the stench that clung to them—but Rain couldn't shake that thought. No matter how dangerous they looked, goblins were still the lowest of the low.

  Rain stepped out from the group.

  As the others instinctively retreated, he walked forward instead, placing himself between them and the monsters. He remembered the status screen, the timer ticking down relentlessly.

  Four hours.

  Four hours to kill every goblin on the floor.

  It was impossible if no one fought.

  Rain didn't know how many goblins existed on this floor, but he knew one thing for certain. If everyone kept hesitating, they would all die.

  As Rain continued toward the four goblins, the strange confidence inside him only grew. For the first time, he raised his voice.

  "GUYS!" he shouted.

  "WE ONLY HAVE FOUR HOURS!"

  He glanced back, locking eyes with at least thirty people staring at him in shock.

  "IF WE DON'T KILL ALL THE GOBLINS ON THIS FLOOR—"

  "THEN WE DIE!"

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  Some of them stopped retreating. Fear still filled their expressions, but something else flickered beneath it.

  "If we run away," Rain continued, voice shaking but loud, "we'll die."

  "But if we fight—if we kill them—we might survive."

  He turned back to the goblins and raised his sword, settling into the best stance he could manage. The weapon felt heavy in his hands, dragging at his arms, but he clenched his teeth and held firm.

  "So stop being such pussies," he said through clenched breath, "and fight."

  Rain had never spoken like this before. He had always been quiet, antisocial, someone who stayed locked away in his room. Standing here now, yelling at strangers, felt unreal.

  But it also felt good.

  He didn't see it happen, focused as he was on the goblins ahead of him, but he sensed it. The shift. The change behind him. Weapons being drawn. Footsteps moving forward instead of back.

  His words had reached someone.

  Rain focused on the four goblins in front of him. Charging them head-on would be suicide, especially now that they were barely ten feet away.

  Then he noticed it.

  One of the goblins was slightly ahead of the others. Only by a couple of feet—but enough to matter.

  More importantly, it wasn't holding a weapon.

  Rain started running.

  He raised his sword overhead, knowing his form was terrible and his technique nonexistent, but he didn't stop. The sound of footsteps followed him as others finally charged alongside him.

  Not everyone.

  But enough.

  Rain continued running. When he was only a few feet away from the unarmed goblin, he raised his sword high. He took one deep breath and, in a single motion, brought the blade down.

  For a brief moment, he met the goblin's eyes.

  There was fear there.

  Unintentionally, it made Rain smile.

  The sword cut through the air with a sharp, clean sound. The slice of wind rang in his ears. When the blade met flesh, it went through far too easily.

  Like cutting butter.

  Rain severed the goblin's right arm in one swift motion.

  His heart slammed violently against his ribs. Sweat poured down his sides, dripping from his armpit and splashing onto the damp dirt below. The goblin's arm hit the ground near Rain's foot with a wet thud.

  The goblin collapsed instantly.

  It screamed.

  The sound wasn't human. It was raw, shrill, and filled with agony, echoing through the clearing in a way that made Rain's skin crawl.

  Then the other three goblins screamed too.

  Not in pain.

  In rage.

  Their attention snapped toward Rain all at once.

  Fuck… fuck…

  He knew he had angered them.

  So badly that they began shouting at him, their voices overlapping in a harsh, guttural language that made no sense. The words came out as strange, broken sounds—half-mumbled, half-roared.

  "Shsbbbjj—kekks—kill you—bajdb—"

  Rain didn't need to understand the language to grasp the meaning.

  They wanted him dead.

  More than anyone else.

  Rain's gaze flicked back to the goblin bleeding out on the ground, its severed arm lying useless beside it. For a split second, a strange thought crossed his mind.

  Are they like us?

  Did they feel fear the way humans did? Pain? Anger? Desperation?

  No.

  There was no way.

  These ugly bastards weren't human. Their bloodlust felt different—twisted, raw, and unrestrained.

  Rain raised his sword toward the remaining three goblins. They stood slightly spread out, but close enough to move as one.

  "Try to kill me," Rain said, his voice steady. "I dare you."

  The confidence in his words felt real.

  But it was a lie.

  Truthfully, Rain didn't want them to charge him at all. Even after injuring one goblin, he was already realizing something important.

  Using a sword was exhausting.

  Every book and movie he had ever read made it look easy. Characters always knew how to fight, even when they had never held a weapon before. Reality was nothing like that.

  Just that single swing had drained him.

  His arms felt heavy. Weak. Like jelly.

  He didn't want to admit it, but he was already tired.

  The goblins seemed to understand his words—or at least his intent. Their rage only deepened. With furious screams, they rushed him.

  Two swung massive wooden bats. The third, wielding a small axe, lunged from the side.

  Rain barely dodged in time.

  Their movements were faster than he expected.

  Fast enough for the goblin with the axe to slash across Rain's right leg.

  "Augh!" Rain cried out.

  He stumbled backward, limping as he forced distance between himself and the monsters. After retreating several feet, he stopped and raised his sword again. Blood ran down his leg, dripping steadily into the dirt.

  His teeth clenched as pain surged through him.

  It hurts… it hurts so bad.

  Reality crashed down on him.

  This wasn't a game.

  He had let his confidence run too far ahead of him. This was still the real world. He could be injured. He could die from one mistake.

  As Rain swallowed and prepared to rush them again, he suddenly heard footsteps behind him.

  Fast ones.

  Instinct took over. He dodged to the left just as figures rushed past him.

  Rain froze for a split second.

  He wasn't alone.

  Four people charged the goblins—three men and one woman. Two wielded axes. One held a dagger. Another carried a sword. They shouted as they attacked, forcing the goblins' attention away from Rain.

  The woman stayed farther back.

  She held a staff.

  Magic? Rain thought.

  No. That had to be impossible. Magic wasn't something people just used.

  Then—

  "WATERBALL!"

  The woman's voice was soft but firm. The air around her seemed to still for a brief moment. Rain turned just in time to see it.

  A small sphere of water formed at the tip of her staff.

  Beautiful.

  It shot forward and slammed into one of the goblins' chests, knocking it back several feet. The creature staggered, nearly losing its footing.

  "What the hell…" Rain muttered.

  One of the men brought his axe down at the same moment, cleaving another goblin's head clean off with raw strength.

  Rain couldn't understand it.

  How could someone already use magic? Didn't spells take years of training? Every book he'd ever read said so.

  The spell hadn't killed the goblin, but even pushing it back like that was incredible.

  Rain stared, breath ragged, sword trembling in his hand.