Baptized by enemy blood

I watched as small teams prepared to enter, some adjusting their gear while others shared potions and snacks. A group of four stood in a circle, their leader barking instructions as the others nodded. Another group laughed a little too loudly, trying to mask their nerves. The soloists were quieter, standing off to the side, checking their weapons or simply staring at the dungeon with unreadable expressions.

My heart was steady, but my grip on my axe tightened as the line moved forward. When my turn came, I stepped up to the guild representative at the entrance. He was tall and broad, his uniform marked with the guild's crest. His eyes lingered on my Iron Badge for a moment before glancing at me. His gaze swept over my armor and my left arm guard, then he nodded silently and gestured for me to continue.

I swallowed hard and stepped forward. The moment I crossed the threshold, it was like entering another world.

The air inside was dense and cool, carrying a faint metallic tang that reminded me of blood. The walls of the entrance corridor were smooth black stone, etched with glowing runes that pulsed softly. Their faint blue light illuminated the path ahead, casting strange, shifting shadows. The silence was heavy, broken only by the soft echo of my footsteps.

As the corridor opened into a large chamber, I felt the dungeon's presence settle over me like a weight. The ceiling was impossibly high, vanishing into darkness, while glowing crystals embedded in the walls hummed faintly. Their light pulsed in sync with the runes, creating a rhythm that felt like the heartbeat of the dungeon itself.

I wasn't alone. Other divers were scattered throughout the chamber. Some were finishing their preparations, checking their weapons or adjusting their armor. A few groups moved toward the next corridor, their torches flickering as they disappeared into the shadows. The soloists stood apart, their eyes scanning the room or focused on the path ahead.

I adjusted the strap on my potion pouch, feeling the reassuring weight of the vials at my side. My hand brushed the handle of my axe as I tightened my grip. The dungeon felt alive, its oppressive energy crawling over my skin. But I'd made it this far, and there was no turning back.

I took a deep breath, letting it steady me, and muttered under my breath, "This is it."

the air grew colder, thick with the scent of damp stone and something faintly metallic—blood. The dim glow of the blue-green crystals barely provided enough light, casting flickering shadows against the jagged rock walls. Each step I took echoed faintly, swallowed by the darkness ahead.

I kept my axe firmly gripped, my ears sharp for any movement. The Black Labyrinth was a maze, filled with winding corridors and sudden dead ends, but more importantly, it was home to creatures that had long adapted to its endless darkness.

Goblins.

They weren't the strongest monsters, but they were cunning. They never fought alone.

A flicker of movement caught my eye. A small shape—green skin blending with the shadows. My instincts screamed at me—left!

I pivoted just as a goblin lunged, its rusted dagger flashing toward my ribs. Too slow. I snapped my left arm up, the vambrace absorbing the impact with a dull clang.

It hissed, frustration twisting its ugly face. Before it could react, I countered—my axe swung down in a brutal arc. The blade bit deep into its collarbone, the crack of bone echoing through the corridor. It barely had time to scream before it collapsed, its body dissolving into mist.

A blue gem dropped to the ground, faintly pulsing with energy. I pocketed it but didn't let my guard down.

Goblins never moved alone.

The faint chittering started then—low, guttural noises echoing from deeper in the tunnel. Then, footsteps. Multiple.

I barely had time to react before three more goblins emerged from the darkness, their yellow eyes glowing with malice.

One on my right, one flanking my left, and the last hanging back, gripping a throwing knife.

They were trying to surround me.

Fine. Let them try.

The one on the right struck first, thrusting a crude spear toward my stomach. I sidestepped, the tip barely grazing my armor, but the goblin on the left was already moving—dagger flashing toward my exposed side.

I twisted, raising my left arm, catching the blade on my vambrace again. The impact jolted my arm, but I held firm.

Then, the third goblin moved.

A glint of metal—the throwing knife flying straight for my head.

No time to dodge. I raised my left arm, the blade embedding itself into the thick leather instead of my skull.

The pain was dull, but it threw me off just enough for the spear goblin to lunge again.

I stepped in instead of back, catching it off guard. My axe swung up, slamming into its wrist. The goblin shrieked as it dropped the spear, its green fingers twitching.

I didn't let it recover.

I ripped my axe free and buried it into its skull. Blood splattered across the dungeon floor as the body convulsed before vanishing into mist.

Two left.

The dagger-wielding goblin snarled, charging in a wild frenzy. I let it come, waited for the right moment—then struck.

I ducked low, my left arm snapping up to shove it off balance. As it stumbled, I drove my axe into its gut, twisting the blade before ripping it free.

Blood painted the ground.

The last goblin hesitated. Smart. It turned to run—

I wouldn't let it.

I hurled my axe, the blade spinning through the air before embedding itself in the goblin's back.

It collapsed.

Silence settled again, save for my ragged breathing.

One by one, their bodies dissolved, leaving behind three blue gems and a throwing knife.

I sighed, rolling my shoulders. That fight had been too close.

I retrieved my axe, checking my vambrace. The knife was still lodged in it—I'd need to get it repaired later.

For now, I pressed forward. The Black Labyrinth Dungeon was just getting started.

The battles blurred together—each fight pushing me further, sharpening my instincts. At first, they came in groups of three, predictable in their movements. They tried to surround me, using their numbers to their advantage. But after the first few encounters, I learned.

I adapted.

The Black Labyrinth was unforgiving, but it was also a teacher. Every step I took, every swing of my axe, every drop of blood spilled onto the cavern floor—it all became part of my growing experience.

Then came the larger groups.

Five goblins at once. Too many to take head-on.

I crouched in the shadows, steadying my breath, watching as the goblins bickered over a fresh kill—a fallen diver. His armor was torn open, his lifeless eyes staring into the abyss. They were distracted. Sloppy.

I could use that.

I gripped my axe tightly, shifting my stance. One clean kill first.

I moved swiftly, silent as a shadow, until I was right behind the nearest goblin. Before it could react, I drove my axe into its spine, the crunch of bone muffled by the wet squelch of flesh parting.

It didn't even have time to scream.

One down.

The others whirled around, snarling as they realized they were under attack.

I didn't wait.

I kicked the dying goblin's body into the nearest one, knocking it off balance. Then, I lunged, swinging my axe at the second goblin's throat—a clean cut. Blood sprayed the cavern walls as its head lolled to the side before its body collapsed.

Three left.

They came at me in a frenzy, one swinging a rusty cleaver, another wielding a short spear, while the last grabbed a torch, its yellow eyes gleaming with malice.

They wanted to flush me out.

I darted sideways, avoiding the cleaver's downward swing, and raised my vambrace just in time to deflect the spear thrust aimed for my ribs. Sparks flew as metal scraped against reinforced leather.

The torch goblin lunged forward, fire licking at the air.

I had to move fast.

I rolled to the side, feeling the heat of the flames as the torch barely missed my face. Before the goblin could recover, I lashed out with my axe, burying the blade into its knee.

It shrieked, collapsing.

I tore the axe free and spun, dodging another attack before sinking my weapon into the spear goblin's gut.

That left just one.

The cleaver goblin hesitated, gripping its weapon with shaking hands. It tried to run.

I didn't let it.

With a burst of speed, I closed the distance, swinging my axe in a brutal overhead strike. The goblin barely had time to raise its weapon before my blade cleaved straight through its skull.

Silence.