Eighteen years had passed since I was born into this world. I had grown into a man—strong, well-liked, and carrying the secrets of a modern world in a body built for this one.
The Gift Ritual was supposed to be the most important day of our lives. My best friends, the siblings Lucas and Maria, stood beside me in the village square. "I hope I get something cool," Lucas whispered, nervously adjusting his tunic. "Maybe 'Warrior' or 'Blacksmith'?" Maria, who had grown into the village’s most beautiful young woman, just looked at me and blushed. "Whatever it is, we’ll make it work, right Rio?"
When the Priest touched their foreheads, the light of the Goddess flickered. Lucas received [Craftsman], and Maria received [Culinary]. They were thrilled. But when the light touched me, the stone didn't glow gold or blue. It turned a strange, flickering violet.
[Blessing: Amok]
The Priest frowned. "Amok? I have never heard of such a gift. Perhaps it is a variation of 'Berserker'? Stay cautious, Rio."
I didn't mind. I had my father Haris’s training and my mother Aina’s love. For the next three years, life was good. Using my memories of the past world, I gave Lucas ideas for better plows and irrigation, making him the most famous craftsman in the region. For Maria, I described cakes and desserts from my old life, and her shop became the heart of Mura.
One sunny afternoon, Maria stood in front of her shop, fidgeting with her apron as I walked by. Her friends were giggling and whispering nearby. "Rio... the weather is nice today, isn't it?" she stammered, her face turning red. "It is," I said, confused by her sudden awkwardness. "I... I’ve been thinking. About us. I like you, Rio. Can you... go on a date with me?"
Before I could answer, the sound of galloping horses shattered the moment.
Marcus, a petty and cruel noble, rode into the square with his subordinates. He demanded double the protection money. When the Village Chief protested, Marcus’s eyes landed on Maria. "The village is short on coin?" Marcus sneered, reaching for Maria’s arm. "I’ll take the girl as interest. She’ll look much better in my manor than in this dirt."
I didn't think. My body moved on its own. I caught Marcus's wrist in mid-air, twisted his arm behind his back, and slammed him face-first into the mud. I held him there with one hand, my knee pressing into his spine. "Get out," I said, my voice cold. "Before I forget that you’re a 'noble'."
Marcus scrambled away, his face purple with rage. "You’re dead! This whole village is dead!"
That night, the sky didn't turn black—it turned orange.
Goblins. Dozens of them, armed with jagged blades, swarming out of the darkness. Marcus had unleashed them to hide his revenge as a "monster attack."
"Rio! Aina! Run to the forest!" my father, Haris, shouted, wielding his old iron sword. He stood like a titan, blocking the doorway as a goblin's torch set our roof on fire. He pushed us toward the treeline.
But as we ran, I heard a voice that made my blood freeze. "Lucas! LUCAS! Wake up!"
I looked back. Maria was on her knees in the dirt. In her arms was... half of a person. Lucas had been torn apart by the goblins' ambush. Only his upper body remained, his eyes glassy and staring at nothing.
"Father, wait!" I screamed, turning to run toward her.
"Rio, no!" my father, Haris, shouted as I turned to run toward the screaming Maria.
He didn't hesitate. He ran after me, his body acting as a shield for both me and my mother, Aina, who was trailing just behind him. We were so close to the treeline. So close to safety.
Thwack.
The sound of the arrow hitting my father’s back was sickening. He stumbled, but his eyes stayed on me. "Keep... going..." he gasped. But then Marcus stepped out of the smoke, his silver dagger gleaming. With a cruel laugh, he plunged the blade into my father's throat.
"Haris!!" My mother screamed. She didn't run for the forest. She ran for him.
She threw herself over my father’s falling body, her hands desperately trying to stop the bleeding. She wasn't a warrior; she was just a mother who loved her husband.
"How touching," Marcus sneered. He didn't even look at her as he signaled one of his subordinates. "Clean this up. The boy is the only one I want to suffer."
Before I could even reach them, a goblin lunged from the shadows, its jagged blade swinging in a wide arc. My mother didn't even look up. She was still whispering my father's name when the cold steel found her.
I saw it happen in slow motion. The way her body went limp over my father’s. The way the light left her eyes—the same kind, warm eyes that had looked at me with such love when I was a "genius" baby in a wooden shack.
In one moment, I had a family. In the next, I was looking at two corpses in the dirt.
[AMOK ACTIVATED]
The world didn't just turn red; it began to burn. The "Amok" blessing didn't feel like a gift—it felt like a demon crawling out of my soul. My vision narrowed until all I could see were the pulses of blood in the necks of everyone around me.
I didn't scream. I didn't cry. I just moved.
I took my father's sword from his cold hand. The steel felt like an extension of my own arm. I was a whirlwind of slaughter. The subordinates who killed my mother? Their heads were gone before they could blink. Marcus? I didn't just kill him. I turned him into a memory, my blade striking again and again until there was nothing left but a red stain on the grass.
But the "Amok" didn't care about justice. It only cared about the kill. I saw figures running in the smoke—villagers I had known for years, people who had bought Maria’s bread, people who had cheered for me at the ritual. In my madness, they weren't people. They were targets.
When the red mist finally cleared, the only sound left in Mura was the crackling of fire.
I woke up near the forest, my body cold and heavy. My hands were caked in a mixture of goblin filth and human blood.
I looked back at the village. It wasn't just Marcus and the goblins. I saw the familiar tunics of my neighbors lying in the streets, marked by the same precise, lethal slashes that had killed the monsters.
The realization shattered me. I had wanted to be a protector, but I had become the very disaster I was trying to stop. I had failed my father. I had failed my mother. And in my rage, I had destroyed the very people they died to protect.
When the King’s soldiers arrived, I heard their cries of horror. "This isn't a battle... it's a massacre. Look at these wounds."
I found a discarded, half-burnt cloak and wrapped it around my shoulders, hiding my face. I looked toward the smoking remains of my home one last time.
"I will go now, Father... Mother..." I whispered, the tears finally breaking through the numbness. "I’m going on an adventure. It might be a long time before I can ever come home. Please... forgive me. Rest in peace."