Betrayal & Abandonment

The air grew heavier the deeper they ventured into the dungeon.

The dim torchlight barely reached the edges of the corridor now, leaving shadows that seemed to stretch unnaturally along the damp stone walls. The scent of mildew and old blood clung to the air, mixing with the faint metallic tang of iron weapons left to rust in forgotten corners.

Leon walked slightly behind the others, his Zombie Mage following closely, silent as a wraith.

Garet led the way, his sword resting on his shoulder, but his movements were sharper than before. He wasn't rushing anymore—he had seen what happened the last time he charged in without thinking.

Elise moved beside him, her staff held a little tighter. Whether that was because of the dungeon… or Leon's summon, he wasn't sure.

Leon kept his expression neutral, but his mind was working constantly.

His Zombie Mage was improving.

Each step deeper into the ruins meant one thing—stronger enemies.

And stronger enemies meant more experience. More growth.

He was ready for that.

The others weren't.

A faint clatter of stone echoed ahead.

Everyone froze.

Leon's breath slowed.

Another noise. Heavier this time. Deliberate.

Something was waiting for them.

And it wasn't another weak goblin.

A shadow stirred at the end of the corridor.

Then another.

The dim torchlight flickered, casting twisting silhouettes along the damp stone walls, making it hard to tell where the darkness ended and something else—**something alive—**began.

Then, a figure stepped forward.

Leon's breath slowed.

The goblins they had fought before were small, scrawny things—wiry creatures with bony arms, patchwork armor, and rusted blades that barely looked sharp enough to cut flesh.

This wasn't the same.

This one was twice their size.

Its green-gray skin was thick and scarred, crisscrossed with jagged marks of old battles. Its arms were thick with corded muscle, its frame heavier, stronger. A crude breastplate sat over its chest, the metal cracked and dented, but still leagues above the ragged leather armor the lesser goblins wore.

And in its massive hands—

A chipped iron axe, the blade broad enough to carve a man in two. Dried blood crusted the edges, staining the already dark metal.

The Goblin Elite's yellow eyes gleamed, but unlike the rabid hunger of the lesser goblins, these eyes held something worse.

Intelligence.

It wasn't just an animal acting on instinct. It was thinking. Calculating.

It was aware.

Garet swallowed hard, his fingers tightening around his sword.

Elise took a step back, her grip firm on her staff, the tension in her shoulders betraying her unease.

Leon barely moved.

His fingers curled slightly, his body still as he studied the creature before him.

This…

This was exactly what he needed.

A real test. A real battle.

The Goblin Elite took another step forward, its massive axe scraping along the dungeon floor. Sparks flared as the metal dragged against the stone, leaving a deep, ugly groove in its wake.

Then, without warning—

It moved.

And it moved fast.

Faster than it should have.

Straight for them.

That's—" Garet's voice cracked, his breath hitching mid-sentence. "That's not an F-Rank monster!"

The Goblin Elite lunged.

Its massive axe howled through the air, the sheer weight behind the swing forcing a rush of wind down the corridor. The metal glinted dully under the dim torchlight, its rusted edge sharp enough to split bone.

Garet barely reacted in time.

He threw himself to the side, his boots skidding against the rough stone as he barely avoided being cut in half. The axe slammed into the floor, shattering the stone on impact. Dust and debris exploded upward, the dungeon itself trembling under the sheer force of the blow.

Garet landed hard, his sword slipping from his grasp, clattering against the ground with a sharp metallic ring. His face twisted in shock, his breath ragged.

Elise took an unsteady step back, panic flashing across her face.

She fumbled with her staff, already trying to raise a protective spell, but her hands were shaking.

Leon didn't move.

He stood firm, his pulse steady, his mind sharp.

His Zombie Mage flickered forward, its glowing blue eyes narrowing as it raised its skeletal fingers, already charging another spell.

He was about to give the order—

And then—

Garet turned and ran.

Leon blinked.

"What—"

"We're dead if we stay!" Garet's voice was high, frantic, nothing like the cocky swordsman from earlier.

Without hesitation, he grabbed Elise's wrist and yanked her back.

"We need to go! Now!"

Elise hesitated.

Just for half a second.

She looked at Leon. Looked at the Goblin Elite.

Then she made her choice.

She turned.

And ran.

Leon's stomach dropped.

They had left him.

The Goblin Elite snapped its head toward him, its yellow eyes narrowing, lips curling into something resembling a grin.

It could smell weakness.

It could see the others had fled.

Now, only one opponent remained.

The only one who had not run.

Leon.

The goblin's grip tightened on its axe.

Then—it charged.

Leon's breath came fast, his chest rising and falling in rapid succession.

Not from fear.

Not from exhaustion.

From rage.

His mind raced, his thoughts spiraling between cold calculation and burning fury.

They left him.

Garet and Elise hadn't even hesitated—the moment things got difficult, they had run.

Had they ever planned to fight?

Had they ever intended to trust him?

Or was he always just a liability in their eyes?

The weight of betrayal pressed against his chest, but there was no time to dwell on it.

Because the Goblin Elite was still there.

And it was coming for him.

He had a choice.

Run.

Or fight.

Leon set his stance.

The Axe Falls

The Goblin Elite lunged forward, closing the distance faster than expected.

Leon barely had time to register the movement before the massive axe swung downward.

Not a reckless attack. Not a wild swing.

A killing blow.

He moved.

Leon twisted his body at the last second, his adrenaline sharpening his senses, his boots skidding over the broken stone floor.

The axe slammed into the ground beside him, missing his skull by inches.

The impact shattered the floor, cracks spiderwebbing outward as dust and debris exploded into the air.

Leon landed in a crouch, his heart slamming against his ribs, his ears ringing from the force of the attack.

If that had hit…

He forced the thought away. It didn't.

He was still alive.

And now—it was his turn.

The First Strike

Leon's voice was steady.

"Fire."

His Zombie Mage reacted instantly.

A glowing blue Mana Bolt shot forward, streaking through the air like a comet.

It struck the Goblin Elite's shoulder, a direct hit, the energy crackling as it seared into flesh.

The goblin snarled—a guttural, angry sound that reverberated through the corridor.

But it didn't stop moving.

It barely flinched.

Leon's teeth gritted.

A regular goblin would have staggered from that hit.

But this one?

It shrugged it off.

Leon's fingers tightened into fists.

This wasn't going to be like before.

This wasn't going to be an easy fight.

This time, he wasn't just testing his power.

He was fighting to survive.

And if he wanted to make it out of this dungeon—

He had to be different too.