floor 2: The Silence After the Storm

A searing pain radiated from Jinra's shoulder, relentless and biting like the cold edge of a winter wind. She forced herself upright, each movement a battle, her legs trembling like fragile threads woven by an unseen hand. For a fleeting moment, she dared to believe the storm had passed—that the suffocating silence was a reprieve, a moment to catch her breath.

But then, shattering the fragile calm, a piercing, guttural scream tore through the stillness like a jagged blade slicing through silk.

The Hobgoblins were not alone.

From the deepest shadows of the ancient forest, a tidal wave of snarling shapes surged forth—an overwhelming horde, eyes burning with savage hunger, claws raised like cruel scythes, jaws dripping with malice and saliva. Their advance was reckless, a storm of wrath and bloodlust that knew no reason, no mercy.

Jinra's heart clenched, each beat a hammer of dread against her ribs. Alone, wounded, and trapped within the encroaching darkness, she felt the cold fingers of despair brush her mind.

A sudden vibration thrummed in her consciousness, the system's voice cold and unyielding:

"Alert: Massive enemy group detected. Threat level: critical."

A chill skated down her spine. Flight seemed the only rational choice—yet the forest offered no refuge, no path to safety. Escape was a whispered fantasy, slipping further away with every howl. But Jinra was no ordinary fighter.

With a slow, deliberate motion, she lifted her hands, weaving invisible threads through the heavy night air. Tendrils of silver light coiled and danced, snaking their way around gnarled roots, ancient trees, and jagged stones. The forest transformed beneath her touch—a lethal labyrinth spun from razor-thin filaments, invisible yet deadly.

The first wave of Hobgoblins crashed against her snare. Agonized screams shattered the night as claws and teeth were caught and shredded, bodies yanked, twisted, and crushed by her spectral webs.

Yet a sharper, keener cry split the chaos—a swift goblin, cunning and desperate, had slipped through her defenses. It lunged with wild fury, claws stretched toward her exposed throat.

The impact was brutal. Jinra felt the cold slash of claws tear flesh, tasted the bitter iron of blood as she was hurled backward. Her body slammed against a tree trunk, the sickening crack echoing through the woods like a death knell.

Her breath hitched, vision swimming in darkness. But even as shadows threatened to claim her, a whisper escaped her lips, faint and determined:

"Partial healing… level two."

A warming surge bloomed within her, tendrils of soothing energy wrapping around broken sinews and torn skin. Pain dulled, blood slowed, and the wound began to close, knitting itself together in a fierce race against death.

Summoning every shard of strength, Jinra forced herself upright. Her breath was ragged, but her mind sharpened with cold clarity.

The system's confirmation buzzed in her mind:

"'Partial Healing' skill level two activated. Accelerated regeneration underway."

The goblin growled, poised for the kill—but Jinra was ready. Her glowing threads ignited, burning with a fierce, ethereal fire. They lashed out, wrapping, slicing, and consuming flesh with ruthless precision.

Jinra, the puppeteer of shadows and steel, was far from defeated. Tonight, death would not claim her.