Corporal Martin pressed his back against the jagged wall of the cave, the rough stone biting into his sweat-soaked shirt. The air was rank, a foul mixture of goblin musk and the metallic tang of blood. His gauntleted fists flexed in anticipation, the heavy gloves creaking as the embedded crystal veins along the knuckles pulsed faintly.
[MODE: NIGHTMARE]
[STAGE: 1]
Five goblins loitered ahead, snickering and scratching at themselves with filthy claws. Their hunched forms barely illuminated by the sparse torches hammered into the cave walls. Martin's lips curled into a grimace. Perfect. Five miserable little bastards all bunched together like a bad punchline.
He inhaled through his nose, feeling the familiar thrum of his crystal ability igniting. Three techniques so far: crystal armor; the one he used to defeat the Anaconda King, crystal wall, and crystal weapon infusion; a new skill in which he could he infuse crystal into his weapons. All deadly.
Crystal armor was still painful, and it used up his stamina very quickly, so he keeps it as his trump card.
He was summoned to a white marble place at first, and was given a time-limit for the next stage.
He picked a gauntlet because it was the most efficient weapon, with his crystal abilities. He was also used to hand-to-hand combat techniques; he was, after all, an elite soldier.
Martin smirked darkly. Pain was just weakness leaking out, after all.
With a silent prayer to whoever was dumb enough to listen, he surged forward.
The goblins barely had time to squawk before Martin smashed into their ranks like a battering ram. His fists, now sheathed in jagged crystal spikes, found their first victims with brutal efficiency.
**CRACK!**
The first goblin's skull caved inward like a rotten pumpkin as Martin's fist drove through it, brain matter and blood splattering across the nearest wall in a grotesque spray. The second tried to raise its crude dagger and stab him his leg, but Martin's left hook tore through its throat, the crystal shards sawing through flesh and sinew with an audible squelch.
Two down.
The other three goblins shrieked, their yellow eyes wide with panic and rage. They rushed him, weapons flashing.
The first swing came low, a rusty short sword aimed for his guts. Martin sidestepped, the blade singing past harmlessly. The next two attacks came simultaneously — one overhead slash and one wild stab toward his chest.
"Cute," Martin muttered.
He raised his gauntleted arms, catching the blows with a deafening clang of steel on crystal. The impacts jarred his bones, but he shifted his weight, counterbalancing the force like a seasoned brawler.
Before the goblins could recover, Martin twisted his hips and unleashed a devastating right cross.
**BOOM!**
The goblin's jaw shattered audibly, teeth flying from its mouth like grim confetti as it collapsed in a twitching heap.
Martin didn't stop. He pivoted and drove his boot into the gut of the next goblin, sending it sprawling backward in a heap of tangled limbs.
The last goblin, seeing an opening, lunged — blade aimed right for his exposed temple.
Instinct took over.
Martin ducked with a sharp tilt of his head, the blade whooshing past his ear close enough to singe hair. With a savage growl, he grabbed the goblin's wrist, yanked it downward, and drove his crystal-coated fist into its belly with such force that his hand disappeared up to the wrist.
Blood and bile geysered out of the goblin's mouth as it let out a choked gurgle.
Martin yanked his hand free with a wet squelch.
The last goblin, now conscious again after his earlier kick, scrambled to flee.
"Oh no you don't, you little snotstain," Martin growled.
He slammed his palm against the ground, and with a burst of agony, a jagged crystal wall erupted ahead of the fleeing goblin, cutting off its escape. The creature smacked into it with a sickening crack, dazed and whimpering.
Martin stalked forward slowly, savoring the moment. The goblin turned, blood dripping from its broken nose, and tried to beg, but then as he got close, the goblin attacked him — but Martin's gauntlet crushed its face mid-attack with a single, final punch.
[OBJECTIVE 1: KILL GOBLINS]
[PROGRESS: 45/50]
He wiped a gob of green blood off his cheek and chuckled darkly.
"Five more."
Martin flexed his fingers. His body ached, his knuckles were bruised beneath the crystal, but his spirit felt lighter than it had in years. If this was Nightmare Mode, he thought, maybe he had been born for it.
Not that it had been easy. His mind flashed back to the time he'd fought seven goblins at once.
He'd gotten his ass handed to him. Broken ribs. A punctured lung. Half his damn face hanging loose.
He remembered dragging himself, half-crawling, back to the portal. Expecting death.
Instead, the portal whisked him back to the white marble sanctuary. Within seconds, his wounds stitched themselves closed, bones snapped back into place, blood refilling his veins as though nothing had happened.
He'd staggered to his feet, feeling... whole. Stronger.
"Magic bullshit," Martin muttered, cracking his neck. "I'll take it."
Still, pride wouldn't let him abuse it. He only used the portal when he had no other choice. Survival was sweeter when you earned it.
---
Within minutes, five more goblins lay at his feet, their corpses mangled beyond recognition. His fists dripped with viscera, and his chest heaved from exertion.
He'd noticed something else, too: every kill made him stronger. His punches hit harder. His legs moved faster. His lungs didn't burn so much anymore. Even his crystal abilities lasted longer.
The blue screen flashed again before his blood-splattered eyes.
[OBJECTIVE 1 COMPLETED]
[KILL GOBLINS: 50/50]
[REQUIREMENTS FOR OBJECTIVE 2 UNLOCKED]
[OBJECTIVE 2: KILL ORC]
[PROGRESS: 0/1]
Martin wiped his hands on a dead goblin's filthy tunic and grinned.
"Bring it on."
***
The cave shook.
Dust rained from the ceiling. A deep, thunderous roar echoed through the tunnels, making Martin's stomach tighten with anticipation.
Out of the shadows lumbered a hulking figure.