Cane took another bite of the apple, juice running down his chin as he walked steadily into the forest. The early morning mist was still clinging to the ground, casting a soft veil over the mossy floor. Birds chirped overhead, but even their songs seemed distant—muted by the thick woods.
[Talent Activated: I'm Crazy – Minor stat boost applied.]
Cane sighed and wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve.
"Didn't even do anything yet," he muttered, eyeing the floating message. "I just like apples."
He caught movement to his left—shadows among the trees. A few heads ducked down. Someone whispered.
"Rumors travel fast in a town this small," he thought. "Guess my 'dancing goblin massacre' got around."
Strangely, instead of annoyance, he felt… a little excited.
Not long after, he spotted them: a trio of goblins crouched over a twitching rabbit. One of them raised a crude dagger, ready to finish the job.
Cane didn't run.
He stepped softly, almost ceremoniously, behind them.
Then he leaned in and whispered, "Enjoying your breakfast?"
The goblins shrieked and stumbled over each other trying to turn around. One dropped the knife. Another tripped backward into a bush.
Cane smiled wide, baring his teeth.
[You're more goblin than the goblins.]
"Thank you, System," he whispered. "That means a lot."
He didn't wait for them to recover. The first slash was clean and low, cutting into the legs of the closest. The second was wild and overhead—more dramatic than effective, but it didn't need to be perfect. The goblins scattered.
Cane let them. He wasn't here for a show. Just enough warm-up to loosen the blade.
As the forest grew denser, the sunlight dimmed behind thick canopies. The trail was barely a path anymore—just vague impressions in the moss, where other boots had once passed. Cane stepped over roots, kicked through low brush, and occasionally slashed away brambles with the flat of his blade.
A few more goblins and the occasional aggressive boar crossed his path. He dealt with them all quickly, efficiently. The rhythm was forming. Slash, pivot, duck, thrust. Nothing elegant—yet.
His breathing stayed calm.
"I'm getting used to this."
Eventually, he saw it.
The forest opened like a mouth, and there it sat: the ruin.
Massive, weatherworn stone columns rose crookedly from the earth, some leaning, others cracked in half. Time had not been kind to the place—vines curled through every crevice, and entire sections of the stone façade had collapsed inward. Faint engravings—barely legible—ran along the doorway's frame.
A wide stairway of moss-covered stone led down into shadow.
Cane stood at the threshold, looking it over.
"If this place collapses on me, I'm haunting someone."
[Let's hope you step on a trap. Something rusty.]
"Appreciate the support."
Outside the ruin, there were signs of life. Tents had been set up nearby—four in total, simple canvas designs with campfires in various states of use. A group of young adventurers was lounging by a firepit: a girl cleaning her blade, a boy refilling waterskins, and one man sitting alone on a log, sharpening his axe.
Cane approached casually.
"Morning," he said, voice low but friendly.
The man on the log glanced up. He looked to be in his early twenties, with a dark scarf around his neck and short, messy brown hair. His axe looked well-used.
"Morning," the man replied. "You here to join the crawl?"
"Crawl?"
"Dungeon crawl," he said, gesturing with his chin toward the ruin. "Though that place's barely a dungeon. Just some moldy corridors and an endless supply of goblins. Half our group thought it was cursed. I think it's just boring."
Cane raised an eyebrow. "No traps? No treasures?"
"Nope," the man said, dragging his whetstone again. "I'm Bren. That's Fara and Dom over there. We're all in training—trying to get our guild licenses. This ruin's been picked clean years ago. Or so everyone says."
"Still crawling through it, though."
Bren chuckled. "Gotta get the muscle memory somehow. We were hoping for at least a skeleton. Instead we got goblins that set up camp inside. Dom took a knife to the ribs, so we pulled back."
Cane glanced at the tents. "You resting up now?"
"For a bit. We'll head back to town by sunset. Not much else to do unless you feel like getting lost in moldy hallways with zero payoff."
"I like moldy hallways."
Bren gave him a look. "You're that guy, aren't you? The goblin slasher?"
Cane offered a lazy grin. "Rumors travel fast."
"I'm not judging," Bren said, then pointed toward the entrance. "Just saying—don't expect much in there."
"I'll take a look anyway," Cane said, stepping back. "Thanks for the warning."
He turned, apple core still in hand, and walked toward the stairs.
Behind him, Bren muttered, "Weird guy."
Cane waved a hand without turning.
"I heard that."
And with that, he descended into the ruin, one slow step at a time.
The ruin's interior was cold and damp. Only faint orange flickers of torchlight provided illumination—several iron sconces lined the stone walls, clearly placed there by adventurers. Shadows stretched long between each flame, dancing along the carvings of timeworn stone.
Cane's boots echoed softly on the cracked tiles. The deeper he walked, the quieter the world became. The outside forest's life had vanished, replaced by stillness.
Most of the rooms were as Bren described—empty chambers of moss-eaten benches, old supply crates filled with rotted wood, and the occasional skeleton that had long since lost anything of value. He encountered goblins along the way—none worth noting. Easy prey. They squealed in the shadows and fell just as quickly.
Three levels down, he found something different.
A vast, circular chamber.
It opened before him like a forgotten throne room. Enormous pillars rose into the vaulted ceiling, each half-covered in vines and moss. The air was cooler here—older. It smelled like damp stone and deep earth. At the center of the room was a pit—a hole with no railing or barrier, just an ominous circle cut into the stone.
Cane approached the edge carefully, peering into the chasm below. All he could see was an absolute darkness, a bottomless void that swallowed all light. He swallowed hard, the sound loud in the oppressive silence.
"Please don't fall," he whispered.
[May your wish not come true. Amen.]
He scowled. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
[More than you know.]
He stepped around the pit, circling toward the far side—when he heard it.
Clashing steel. Grunts. Shouted curses.
Cane's eyes narrowed. He followed the noise, creeping closer.
In a wide side-chamber, two figures fought against a group of goblins. A young man with short blond hair wielded a longsword, defending a girl behind him. She wore a light-blue robe and was clearly a caster. Sweat poured down her face as she chanted.
"Damn it!" the swordsman shouted. "Who taught these things to fight in formation?"
The goblins wore scrap armor and held shields. Their stances were coordinated—tight. One barked an order, and two others moved to flank.
The girl launched a fireball with a desperate shout—Cane's eyes widened. It exploded, but the leading goblin raised its shield, absorbing most of the blast.
"A caster?" Cane murmured. "Didn't think I'd see magic so soon."
[And instead of helping, you're busy narrating.]
"I'm gathering data. Now shut up and explain me about elements."
[...You're really a sad human being.]
"Faster you explain, faster I help."
[Fine. Five base elements: Fire, Water, Earth, Wind, Lightning. Rarer ones exist—like Light, Darkness and more. Holy magic used by priests and paladins. Darkness? Cultists and outlaws. Some hybrids exist, but require training or learn it from rare scrolls.]
"Hmm." Cane didn't move. He watched the boy stagger back, nearly tripping. The girl's mana seemed drained—she clutched her staff, breathing hard.
Then—
"Rika!!" the boy yelled.
The goblin captain raised its blade toward the girl.
She screamed.
The next thing she saw—was a flash of silver.
Cane's katana intercepted the blow, deflecting the goblin backward with a harsh clang.
He stood between her and death, expression unreadable.
"You—" she gasped.
"I'm not here for you," Cane said flatly. "I'm here to kill them."
His head tilted slowly. His smile widened.
[Talent Active: I'm Crazy – minor stat boost applied]
The goblins hesitated.
Rika shivered. The man who saved her looked more unhinged than the goblins attacking.
Cane lunged.
He spun low, dragging his blade across the stone and rising with an upward arc that nearly took a goblin's head. Another charged—he parried, twisted the blade, and cut down into its leg. Blood sprayed the wall.
"These aren't your average idiots," he muttered. "They're thinking. Planning."
The boy tried to join in, swinging desperately.
"Save your strength," Cane snapped. "Watch her. I'll handle this."
He dashed forward. Two goblins met him. One raised a mace, the other swung a jagged axe. Cane slid low, slicing the first one's ankle. The second he met with a fake-out feint—then crushed its throat with the hilt.
[They're getting smarter.]
"I'll get dumber then."
Another goblin circled, trying to corner him. Cane flicked a pebble with his foot into its eye, then stabbed through its jaw. The remaining ones backed toward the pit.
Cane noticed. And smiled.
He charged—not at them—but at the pillars near the edge.
They followed instinct, retreating.
Cane lunged past them and twisted his body, slicing at their legs and side-stepping. One goblin stumbled and fell—right into the pit. The others panicked.
"Get them to move!" Cane barked.
The swordsman nodded and rushed forward, waving wildly.
Rika, despite exhaustion, launched a flickering spark spell—just enough.
The goblins turned to defend, but they were too late. Cane shoulder-tackled one, and they tumbled, the force of the collision causing another to slip.
Then another lost its footing, creating a chaotic, domino-like chain reaction. Finally, silence descended, broken only by the echo of falling bodies.
Cane exhaled, wiping blood from his blade. "Wasn't so hard."
Rika collapsed on her knees. The boy sat beside her, panting. "You… saved us," he said.
"No need to thank me."
[You liked saving a girl again, didn't you.]
Cane ignored the voice and turned. Just as he did, the stone beneath Rika's foot crumbled and she shrieked as the ground gave way. The boy next to her reached out to grab her, but he was far too slow. Cane, however, had already moved.
He leapt without hesitation, his body moving on instinct. His hand shot out and grabbed her wrist mid-fall, the momentum nearly dragging them both down. With a sharp twist and a strained grunt, he hurled her back up toward the ledge.
She crashed onto solid ground, rolling to a stop.
He didn't.
As he fell, Cane looked up.
He saw her face—wide-eyed, pale with panic. Her hand was outstretched toward him, trembling, fingers clawing through empty air as if she could still reach him.
The boy beside her lunged forward too, but too late, too slow. His eyes locked with Cane's for one breathless instant—helpless.
Only Cane had moved in time.
"Damn it…" he muttered. "Why do I keep doing stupid things…" And then he fell.
[You really are an idiot.]
Darkness swallowed him whole.