The night sky was cloaked in darkness, the only light coming from the distant stars. Then, a chilling sound tore through the silence—hundreds of screeches. The goblin army had returned, their ranks swelled with reinforcements. They slammed against the barrier, snarling and shrieking. Among them stood the Big Bonker, his massive stone hammer crashing down onto the invisible wall with enough force to shake the ground. But the barrier held firm.

  Niles’s party woke with a start, screaming in terror. All except Niles. To him, this was just another bad wake-up call. Back in his old world, he would’ve silenced an alarm clock with a badly-aimed toss. Here, he reached for the iron spear they had taken from the rare goblin they defeated earlier. Dragging himself toward the edge of the barrier, he exhaled and called out, “Winston, you should join me.”

  Winston groaned, forcing himself up and grabbing a club. “I’m too tired to fight goblins,” he muttered.

  Niles yawned. “Let’s just take out a few and go back to sleep.”

  The two of them walked toward the end of the barrier. Niles glanced back at the rest of the party. “You guys can go back to sleep,” he called out, though with the constant howling and pounding against the barrier, that would be easier said than done.

  Still, the barrier showed no signs of weakening. It stood like an impenetrable wall, shielding them from the chaos outside.

  Niles stepped up to the shimmering edge and drove his spear forward, piercing a goblin’s throat.

  [You’ve defeated a goblin – You’ve received 17 EXP.]

  A glowing window popped up in the air next to him. Meanwhile, Winston—dressed in his regal courtly robes, looking out of place—raised his stolen goblin war club and brought it crashing down onto an enemy’s skull.

  [You’ve defeated a goblin – You’ve received 16 EXP.]

  [Level Up!]

  “Strength,” Winston mumbled, too exhausted to put much thought into it.

  [Strength increased by 1.]

  The message flickered in the air before disappearing, and Winston continued his methodical swings. Watching him, Niles was briefly reminded that Winston wasn’t a soldier. He wasn’t trained for battle. And yet, when given a task, he carried it out without hesitation.

  Niles smirked to himself. “Maybe I should promote him again. Give him even more responsibilities…”

  He thrust his spear through the barrier once more. It passed through effortlessly, as if the wall were nothing but mist, while every goblin attack from the other side was completely blocked. It was an absurdly unfair strategy—like shooting fish in a barrel—but it worked.

  Another stab. Another kill.

  [You’ve defeated a goblin – You’ve received 14 EXP.]

  And another.

  [You’ve defeated a goblin – You’ve received 15 EXP.]

  Niles sighed, frustration creeping into his voice. “Why don’t I ever level up?!”

  Meanwhile, Winston had picked up the pace, dispatching several more goblins outside the barrier. Another level-up notification appeared before him.

  [Level Up!]

  “Strength” Winston said once again.

  [Strength increased by 1.]

  Winston smirked at the absurdity of it all. "Sir Niles, we're at the same level now," he said, holding up four fingers to signify their equal standing.

  Niles's eyes widened. "What?" He looked almost offended. "But I'm supposed to be the king!" The implication was clear—he should be the strongest.

  Winston exhaled through his nose, still weary. "Yes, yes, of course."

  Niles withdrew his spear, scanning for any goblin that might be worth more experience than the others. Nothing stood out. His gaze flicked to the Big Bonker, who unleashed another earth-shaking hammer strike against the barrier.

  "I wonder how much EXP you're worth," Niles muttered. But the minotaur was too far away, and charging it would be suicide.

  Then, Niles spotted a goblin slipping away from the battle, looking ready to retreat. Seeing his opportunity, he lunged forward, thrusting his spear through the barrier—

  Only for the minotaur to drop its hammer and snatch the spear mid-air.

  Niles barely had time to react before he felt a powerful tug. The Big Bonker was trying to drag him out. But Niles quickly let go, and the moment he did, the spear became immovable, stuck in the barrier as if embedded in solid stone. No matter how hard the minotaur pulled, it wouldn’t budge.

  “Hah!” Niles laughed, pointing at the beast. “Serves you right!”

  The minotaur, undeterred, leaned down and—with both its powerful, clawed hands and hoofed feet—snapped the wooden shaft of the spear clean in half.

  Niles paled.

  "NO! MY WEAPON!"

  As if savoring its petty triumph, the massive minotaur dangled the broken shaft mockingly in front of Niles before letting out a low, guttural growl that sounded suspiciously like laughter.

  “WINSTON!” Niles wailed. “I THINK THE BIG BONKER IS TEASING ME! DO SOMETHING!”

  But Winston could do nothing. The minotaur let out one final huff, then turned, strolling back toward the wilderness with Niles’s broken spear in one hand and its massive stone hammer in the other. The goblins, seeing that their siege had failed, followed suit, slinking away into the darkness.

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  "YOU CAN’T JUST LEAVE ME LIKE THIS!" Niles shouted after them. "AT LEAST LET ME LEVEL UP FIRST!"

  Desperate, he scanned the ground. Just outside the barrier, he spotted a tiny, discarded stone dagger. Seizing the opportunity, he jumped out, snatched the weapon, and hurled it at a fleeing goblin—

  And missed. Badly.

  At that moment, a lone goblin—one that had lingered behind while the rest retreated—raised a bow.

  Thwip!

  The arrow sailed straight toward him—

  And struck him in the butt.

  “MY ASS!” Niles shrieked, leaping back inside the barrier. “THE BASTARD GOT ME!”

  Winston, startled by the outburst, rushed to his side. The rest of the party, hearing the commotion, stirred awake.

  “NILES HAS BEEN HURT!” Winston shouted.

  The group started to rally, preparing to help—until Winston added, “He’s been shot by an arrow… in the behind!”

  A beat of silence.

  Then:

  Vulcan scoffed. “Don’t wake us for a silly reason like that.”

  Felix, already rolling over, mumbled, “It’ll heal eventually.”

  And just like that, they all went back to sleep.

  Niles lay flat on the ground, staring in disbelief as Winston loomed over him, yanking the arrow out. His jaw hung open, his expression frozen in stunned, stupid horror.

  Trying to be comforting, Winston pressed down on the wound and said, “My parents used to say…” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “…The best friends are the ones who stay calm by your side, so they can save their energy for when you really need their help.”

  And so, there Niles lay—inside the barrier, pride shattered, butt bleeding, and worst of all…

  He hadn’t even leveled up.

  “I bet no one in the whole world has it worse than me,” he sniffled.

  Far from Niceland and Xandria’s Capital

  Aurelia’s arms remained bound in rusted chains, locked deep within the damp cellar of an abandoned house. It had been days since Zacharias and his Zairulian soldiers had last come to taunt her. They were gone now—far away. No food. No sunlight. Just the suffocating dark pressing in on all sides.

  Her body ached, bruised and neglected like forgotten meat. She had only survived by drawing moisture from her own clothes, dampened by the cellar’s cold, unyielding dirt.

  Then—

  BANG!

  The front door burst open.

  “Hello? Is anyone here?”

  Prince Xhiva’s voice.

  His torch flickered as he stepped inside, the flames casting erratic shadows against the rotting walls. He swept the room with a lazy grin, eyes sharp despite his casual tone.

  “I know you’re here somewhere.” He thought for himself.

  A set of keys clattered to the floor. Beneath them, a hatch. Xhiva bent down. He tapped it thoughtfully.

  “Anyone?”

  Aurelia saw the dancing light, hope flickering weakly in her chest. She tried to call out, but her voice was nothing more than a breath.

  “…help…”

  For a moment, the flame wavered, as if it had been extinguished entirely—snuffing out her last thread of hope.

  But no. It was only Xhiva turning, making his way toward the cellar stairs.

  “Ugh, cramped little place,” he muttered as he descended.

  The moment his torchlight illuminated the room, he saw her.

  “Goddess!” he gasped in mock astonishment. “Thank the heavens, I’ve found you!”

  He rushed forward, keys jingling as he worked at her restraints.

  Aurelia’s head lifted slightly. “Xhiva…” Her voice was weak, drained of all fight. “How did you find me?”

  Xhiva didn’t hesitate. He had prepared for questions like this.

  “Don’t underestimate Xandria’s intelligence forces,” he said smoothly. “We’ve been working tirelessly to uncover your location.”

  The last lock clicked open.

  Xhiva spread his arms. “Come here. You’re free.”

  He waited for her to collapse into his embrace.

  She didn’t move.

  Instead, she whispered, “Zacharias and the soldiers from Zairule brought me here.”

  Xhiva’s jaw tensed, but he kept up the performance. “Those swine.” He sneered. “I’ll make them pay for what they’ve done to you. To your beauty. You can trust me on that.”

  Aurelia’s gaze didn’t waver. “Did you trade them the Holy Crystal for me?”

  The fake warmth in Xhiva’s eyes faded. His expression darkened.

  “What exactly are you implying?”

  Aurelia lifted her chin. “I’ve had a lot of time to think. About how the Zairulians kidnapped me. The attack on the ball. How they returned after securing the crystal—just to check my skill. And now, how you just happened to find me.” Her voice was steady now, no longer feeble. “Something doesn’t add up.”

  Xhiva clenched his teeth.

  That idiot Zacharias. He was never supposed to come back. He had ruined everything.

  No matter. The situation could still be salvaged.

  Xhiva exhaled sharply. “I’ll let you live on one condition,” he said coldly.

  Aurelia remained silent.

  “You will marry me.”

  A heavy pause.

  Aurelia shook her head. “I’m already betrothed.” Her voice was quiet, but unwavering.

  Xhiva’s nostrils flared. “What?” he spat. “To whom?”

  She didn’t hesitate.

  “Sir Niles.”

  The name alone made Xhiva’s lip curl.

  That man again.

  His fist slammed against the wall. “When did this happen? And—” his voice dropped, venomous “—has he touched you? As long as you’re clean, I can—”

  “He asked me the night of the ball.” Aurelia cut him off. “I haven’t given him an answer yet.”

  Xhiva went still.

  Then—an idea.

  His mouth curled into something sickly sweet.

  “Well then… you’re not betrothed anymore,” he murmured.

  Aurelia’s heart pounded. “What?”

  Xhiva sighed dramatically, placing a hand over his chest as if delivering tragic news.

  “Sir Niles… I’m sorry to tell you this, but—” his eyes gleamed with amusement, “—he’s dead.”

  Silence.

  Aurelia’s breath hitched. Her sapphire-blue eyes widened, catching the torchlight like shattered glass.

  She searched his face, willing the words to be false.

  But Xhiva simply spread his arms once more. “I’ll ask you again,” he said, voice dropping to something cold and final. “And I won’t ask a third time.”

  “Will you marry me?”

  Most would have done anything to escape. Clung to survival, no matter the cost.

  But Aurelia was not most people.

  She thought of her home. Her father. The kind, loyal subjects of their tiny kingdom—devoured by Xandria’s conquest.

  She met Xhiva’s gaze.

  And with embers of defiance still burning in her heart, she answered.

  “No.”

  A pause.

  “I would never marry you.”

  Prince Xhiva’s mask cracked, revealing the rage beneath.

  “THEN YOU CAN STAY HERE AND ROT!” he roared, his fury palpable, shaking the walls of the damp cellar.

  But Aurelia did not flinch. Her gaze remained firm, unyielding.

  Xhiva’s chest heaved before he forced a breath through his nose, composing himself. Then, a slow smirk curled across his lips.

  “…Or.”

  He tilted his head, as if savoring the thought.

  “I could pluck every feather from your wings, one by one, until you beg me to take you.”

  The idea settled in his mind, turning over like a blade in his palm.

  “Yes,” he murmured. “I can make this work.”

  His scarlet eyes locked onto hers once more.

  “Goddess,” he said smoothly, “I’ll have you transferred somewhere… more comfortable.”

  A pause.

  “And private.”

  The broad smile returned—mocking, victorious.

  “In time,” he continued, “I know you’ll change your mind.”

  With that, he seized her weakened body, dragging her up the cellar steps like discarded baggage. Aurelia’s limbs barely moved, her strength drained from days of captivity. She was thrown unceremoniously into a waiting carriage, Xhiva stepping in right after her.

  Outside, his loyal troops stood at attention. One soldier hesitated before asking, “Where to, my prince?”

  Xhiva glanced out the small window.

  “To our old family vacation castle.” His voice was light, almost amused. Then, as an afterthought, he added, “And bring me something to eat for the journey.”

  He reached for the curtain, pulling it shut over the window before turning back to Aurelia.

  “And you,” he sneered, eyes sweeping over her with open disgust.

  “Try to act more gracefully. The way you look—the way you smell—” he scoffed, leaning back against the seat. “It makes my stomach turn.”

  The carriage lurched forward.

  The rhythmic clatter of hooves and the creak of wooden wheels echoed into the night, carrying them toward the royal family’s secluded estate.