Slave 135 stood on the platform, watching the broken space as the rift widened.
Hungry beast cries echoed from beyond. He could see them.
The obnoxious mechanical voice lingered unpleasantly in his ears. He turned around without thinking twice and started running.
Experiencing death once was enough. He had no intention of experiencing it again... Fighting a losing battle was not courageous, but foolish.
But unfortunately, the rift widened.
Like the maw of a starving beast trying to swallow him whole. He did not look back. He kept running for his life.
The pressure came again. The direction of gravity changed, and he started free-falling inside the rift. He could not escape, nor could he resist.
Thud.
He fell headfirst into mud. He supported his body and got back on his feet hastily.
A dark swamp surrounded him. The sky held barely any light. Ghostly figures of withered trees loomed on the horizon, and in front of him stood what he was trying to run from.
Crawling forward slowly, eyes glowing...
Green skin, crooked limbs, yellow eyes burning in the dark. Their bodies were thin and twisted, stretched wrong, as if hunger itself had taken shape.
Goblins.
Behind them came the wolves.
Too tall, too lean, their ribs pressed against their skin like cages. Their jaws split too wide, locked into permanent snarls.
Hunger was evident in their eyes. Saliva ran down their maws.
They did not hesitate. They did not give him time to comprehend the situation.
They rushed him.
Slave 135 tried to move.
He ran. Toward wherever fewer enemies stood.
As a trained warslave, he knew how to survive, to a certain extent.
But the swamp was not a place where men moved freely, nor did he have a single ally in this place to entrust his back to.
His body felt heavy, somewhat slower than usual as he ran through the mud. The memory of death drove him forward... He was unwilling to die a second time.
Death was not peaceful.
In front of him stood several goblins. Behind him stood more than he could count.
The goblins charged at him the same way he charged at them.
And once a goblin was within range, he jumped, slamming his shoulder into its chest, driving it backward. His feet slid across the slick ground.
The impact knocked the air from the goblin's lungs, but the mud stole his foothold. He crashed onto his back as well.
But he achieved his goal.
A short blade was now within his reach. It was made to fit a goblin's stature...
Suppressing the insignificant pain, his hands moved with certainty. He grasped the blade and ran again.
A second goblin leapt onto his stomach.
Its weapon was a claw. It tore through the air, aiming for his ribs.
He took advantage of the size difference and stretched out his arm, stabbing the goblin's neck without slowing his pursuit of survival.
But a third plunged a blade into his thigh.
Pain exploded through his body.
He struck back, splitting the ugly creature's skull.
Slave 135 gritted his teeth and kept running, but it was already too late...
He screamed in pain, trying to gain distance.
The wolves had already arrived.
Their crazed cries gave him a warning.
He planted his right, uninjured leg and twisted toward the source of the sound.
One lunged for his shoulder. He stabbed toward the beast's maw.
The strike landed. His hand went inside the maw, the dagger-sized blade piercing its upper jaw.
He tried to pull his hand free.
He bent sideways and jerked back, but a snap echoed instead.
The wolf's jaws crushed his wrist even as the short blade pierced its mouth.
He slid under the wolf's body. Using his free hand, he forced the dying beast's jaw open and tore his arm free.
The fangs slid out of his flesh, scraping against bone.
He screamed until his lungs burned.
He was free again, or so he thought.
A goblin stabbed his shoulder. Another slit his side.
Blood flooded his vision. He tried to stand up again.
He swung blindly.
His blade struck something soft.
A goblin's stomach split open.
It screeched.
A wolf lunged for his throat.
He raised his injured arm.
Its teeth sank into the same wound, widening it, tearing it open again.
Still, he aimed for the neck and managed to slit the beast's throat.
At this point, it was obvious. He knew he was dying now.
Once again, this feeling of cold, inevitable weakness was eating at his body.
No amount of struggle would save him.
His arm went numb.
More attacks followed. More claws. More blades.
He fought blindly. He cut whatever came within his arm's reach.
He knew he was dying, but it wasn't to survive. It was out of spite.
He fought until he collapsed into the mud, unable to rise.
Something dragged him. His numb legs could no longer feel pain.
The familiar cold sensation took over his body.
Claws tore open his back. Teeth sank into his stomach. Blood filled his mouth.
He looked at his left hand. It still held the blade.
Broken arm. Unyielding grip.
He swung one last time, failing to hit anything, but the beasts at his back bounced away.
He tried to stand, but his shattered leg failed him.
He fell.
A goblin drove its blade deep into his gut.
The world tilted.
His body convulsed.
Strength leaked out with his blood.
He grabbed the goblin's face, forcing his fingers into its eyes.
It shrieked.
A wolf bit into his ruined shoulder.
Another tore into his side.
But Slave 135 no longer screamed, nor did he express his pain.
Not because the pain ended, but because he no longer had the strength.
Sigh...
'Bro… it seems even death cannot do us part.'
He lay staring at the dark ceiling of the Trial Zone.
The monsters did not stop.
They did not care that he was dying.
They only cared that he was meat.
His vision blurred.
The edges of the world softened.
The swamp sky felt distant.
His fingers loosened.
The goblin pulled free, the blade fell into the mud.
The wolves kept tearing.
Cold settled in his chest.
His breathing slowed.
His heart stuttered.
This time, there was no voice.
No interruption.
No miracle.
Only the certainty of being torn apart.
So this was how it ended.
Again.
His eyes lost focus.
The Trial Zone faded.
Darkness swallowed everything.
Or so he thought…
~BOOOM
~BOOOOOOM
The very same booming he had heard once in his death-like dream state echoed, but this time it felt far away.
[ERROR]
[Critical failure detected]
[Denied]