I stepped out, boots skidding slightly in the pool of blood where Marco had died.
The air was thick. Not just with death, but failure. Sure, I knew that Marco's group was underprepared, but I didn't think he would die so tragically. Good news: the dungeon had a level 10 hobgoblin. Bad news: it wasn't the Boss. The hobgoblin is powerful, and now there is another unknown enemy that is even stronger than he is.
I sighed before taking a deep breath, calming myself down. I need to focus on the present and level up more before I can even think about taking on the Dungeon Boss.
The battle had been brutal. Blood soaked the tiles in smeared patterns, dragging in every direction like the goblins were finger-painting using the corpses. Broken weapons littered the floor: splintered wood, bent blades, and a snapped spear shaft sticking out from under a corpse. A few goblin bodies were mixed in with the humans. They'd fought hard, Marco's group, but it doesn't matter.
Something caught my eye—torn paper, stained red, lying near a severed arm.
I knelt and picked it up.
A photo. Water-damaged and smeared, but still visible beneath the blood. A young woman, twenty, maybe twenty-one. Curly black hair. Sharp cheekbones. Dimples in her smile. She stood proudly in front of the university sign, diploma in hand.
Marco's daughter.
I stared at it for a moment, thumb brushing across the corner. Then I folded it carefully and slipped it into one of my vest pouches. I'll try to find her for you, Marco… and I'll tell her you gave your life searching for her. This wasn't just a missing person anymore. This was a promise.
A rustle made me freeze.
Not goblins.
Something… softer. Shaky.
I followed the sound. A thin trail of blood curved toward a maintenance closet. The handle was smeared with prints. Someone or something was hiding.
I approached slowly, unsheathing my dagger just in case. With my other hand, I reached for the handle and eased it open.
Inside, Jasper sat slumped against the wall, pistol raised and pointed directly at me.
We stared at each other in complete silence.
His finger was on the trigger, but he didn't shoot.
I can tell from his eyes that he was thinking about whether or not to shoot me, but he decided not to by lowering the weapon.
His chest rose and fell unevenly, blood soaking through his clothes, and I could immediately tell he wasn't going to last long.
He didn't speak right away. Just stared at me like he was waiting for someone else.
"…Nadia?" he rasped.
I said nothing.
His eyes adjusted. "Oh. You."
I stepped into the closet, crouching just far enough to avoid the barrel of his pistol. "I can call for help—"
"No." His voice cracked. "No help. I'm done. I can feel it."
I glanced at his wound. The gash across his stomach had already turned black around the edges. His legs were twisted beneath him, useless. Even if we had a healing potion, it wouldn't be enough.
"Just… stay," he said, his tone stripped of its usual bark. "Don't leave me here alone."
I nodded.
He was quiet for a moment. Breathing shallow. Then he began to talk.
"We made it to them," he whispered. "We found the damn den. It's in the Food court."
His jaw clenched.
"They were there. Cages. Blood. Screaming. And Marco's kid—" His voice cracked. "She was alive. But they were using her, and he lost it. Charged in like a man possessed."
Jasper coughed, blood flecking his lip.
"I pulled him back. Physically dragged him. It was the only reason he didn't die right there. But there were too many of them. Goblins are pouring out of every crack. The Boss stepped into view, a shaman, level ten and ready for a fight. It said something, and before we knew it, the whole swarm was buffed. They fought like they could feel no pain. You were right, we weren't ready."
He swallowed hard.
"We tried to fall back. Thought we'd loop back around. Regroup. But the hobgoblin… it was waiting for us. Just looking at him crushed our spirits. It was like an executor passing judgment upon us. One swing of his axe took out three of us. Goblins came from behind and continued to attack us. It was pure chaos. Marco tried his best, but there were too many of them. The hobgoblin was aiming for Marco, and like an idiot, I pushed him out of the way. Marco tried to hold it off while someone else dragged me in here."
He blinked hard, pain sharpening his gaze.
"The last thing I saw was Marco go down swinging. He didn't give up, still screaming her name."
I stayed quiet, letting the words hang in the air.
"I don't know why they put me in here," he murmured, looking blankly at a wall. "They should have saved Marco. I am already bleeding out, and I can't feel my legs. I wonder why? Why did I have to listen to their screams? I should have died with them, not here alone. With you of all people. I don't like you, but please keep Nicole safe and Nadia too."
He turned his head slightly, looking at me again.
"I didn't want to die like this. Not begging. Not broken."
A pause. Then—
"Just… stay, West. Please."
His voice was a whisper now, and I sat with him in silence.
I stayed.
I didn't speak. Didn't reach for his hand or offer comfort, I knew he wouldn't want. Just stayed close, crouched in the half-light of that blood-streaked storage closet, watching a man die with what little dignity he had left.
Jasper's breath grew shallow, erratic. His gaze flicked toward the doorway, like he was still expecting someone else to appear. Maybe Nadia. Maybe a miracle.
His mouth twitched like he wanted to say more. But whatever words were left tangled somewhere inside him.
I checked the hallway, still clear. No goblins. No sound but the distant drip of water and the faint hum of broken lights.
When I turned back, his eyes were still open, fixed on the far wall. But he wasn't breathing.
I exhaled once, slowly. Then leaned forward and closed his eyes with two fingers.
"No more waiting," I murmured.