Come on.
Shooting a fireball at me while I was holding a literal child?
That's just rude.
Like, morally questionable. Strategically unnecessary. Socially unacceptable. Pick one.
Can I just get one minute—just one—of peace before getting thrown back into chaos? I just woke up! You ever think I might be on information overload after the worst day of my life decided to extend its runtime like a director's cut?
Oh, you isekai world…
Grrrr.
Yeah, you heard that right.
Grrrr.
My anger bubbled up fast—like boiling water spilling over the edges. It spread from my chest outward, tightening my jaw, narrowing my vision. For a second, everything tunneled into red.
But then—
Reality hit.
Hard.
Dead goblins scattered across the ground.
Skeletons and zombies swarming through the village like ants on a carcass.
Burning huts crackling, collapsing, sending embers into the air like dying fireflies.
Screams.
Clashing.
Chaos.
My anger didn't disappear.
It twisted.
It turned into something heavier.
Pity.
Pain.
These goblins… they were just trying to survive.
First SmileyX and his circus of psychopaths tear this place apart—
—and now this?
Behind me, I felt the small goblin trembling, clutching at the back of my armor.
Right.
No time to sulk.
No time to think.
I needed to move.
A hiss cut through the noise.
Sharp.
Unnatural.
I turned.
A skeleton.
Charging straight at me from between two burning shanties, bones rattling like a bag of loose screws. It gripped a spiked club, raising it high as it barreled through the battlefield, ignoring everything else.
Straight.
At me.
"Oh wow," I muttered. "I'm flattered. But sorry—I'm not into skeletons either."
I patted myself instinctively.
And—
Oh.
Nice.
Full gear.
Sword? Check.
Hood? Check.
Leather armor, boots, satchel? All present.
Of course.
Game logic.
Cutscene ends, gear auto-equipped.
Honestly? Not complaining.
"Kala!" I thought—loudly, like yelling inside my own head.
No idea if that's how telepathy works, but hey, worth a shot.
"YES! You called for me?"
I nearly jumped out of my skin.
Kala was already hovering beside my head.
"When did you—how long have you been there?" I asked, blinking.
"Since we woke up," he said casually. "Should I blast the small green thing? It woke us up quite rudely."
I glanced at the kid behind me.
"Get that thing to safety, would you?"
"Kay~" Kala yawned, stretching like a floating, all-seeing cat.
I crouched slightly, glancing back at the kid. "Mr. Balloon here will take you somewhere safe, okay?"
I thumbed toward Kala.
The kid nodded—barely holding it together.
Good enough.
I unsheathed my knife-sword and—
Dashed forward.
The skeleton was three meters away now, club already swinging.
Ping.
Attack: Wild Swing.
A red arc painted itself across my vision, tracing the path of the strike.
There it is.
Predictable.
"Tsk."
I dropped low.
Ducked.
Slid across the dirt just under the arc of the attack—the club whooshing above me close enough to ruffle my hood.
My blade moved before I fully thought it through.
Clean.
Sharp.
I cut through its left leg.
The tibia snapped.
The fibula flew.
The skeleton collapsed mid-motion like a tower losing its foundation.
But I wasn't done.
Not even close.
Without looking—
I swung my sword upward like a bat.
Crack.
My off-hand followed through, smashing into its skull—
—and it shattered.
Fragments scattered in all directions like brittle glass.
Gone.
One down.
I didn't stop.
Couldn't.
Not with everything burning behind me.
I spotted a zombie lunging toward a wounded goblin crawling backward, desperate, slow.
Nope.
Not today.
I forced dash.
The world blurred—
—and I slammed into the zombie with a full-force kick.
Boom.
It flew backward, crashing into two more undead behind it—
—knocking them all down like bowling pins.
Strike.
Strike.
Strike.
I didn't give them time to get back up.
My blade carved through them in a flurry—limbs, heads, torsos breaking apart into pixelated decay.
Messy.
Efficient.
Done.
I turned back to the goblin.
"Save yourself! Run! Take them with you!" I shouted, pointing toward the others.
He nodded frantically and scrambled up, dragging another goblin along before sprinting away.
Good.
One less thing to worry about.
A cooldown timer blinked into life at the edge of my vision.
Force Dash: Cooling Down.
Right.
Gotta pace it.
I exhaled slowly and stepped forward.
More undead.
More targets.
I hacked through a zombie's neck.
Stomped a skeleton's femur into splinters.
Slashed another clean in half.
Their attacks?
Slow.
Heavy.
Predictable.
All brute force, no finesse.
Honestly?
If this was a game, these guys would be labeled "Early Level Mobs."
But something felt off.
I paused.
Looked around.
The numbers weren't dropping.
If anything…
There were more.
Wait.
The fireball earlier—
Where did that even come from?
I scanned the battlefield.
Burning gate.
Collapsed structures.
Then—
There.
Near the shattered entrance, like it had been blasted open by an RPG.
A figure.
Mounted.
Still.
Watching.
A skeleton.
But not like the others.
This one wore armor—dark, regal, laced with purple hues that shimmered unnaturally. A golden crown sat atop its skull. Black, tattered robes flowed behind it like smoke.
In its hand—
A golden scepter.
Its mount?
An undead horse.
All bone and rot, yet standing proud, unmoving amidst the chaos.
Yeah.
That's not a regular mob.
That's a problem.
The skeleton raised its scepter.
A glowing diagram formed above it—complex, intricate.
Magic.
Then—
Missiles.
They spun outward and launched.
Boom.
Boom.
Boom.
Explosions ripped through the village.
Wood shattered.
Goblins scattered.
Screams filled the air.
I clenched my jaw.
Then it raised the scepter again.
And—
The dead goblins…
Twitched.
No.
No, no, no—
They moved.
They stood.
Dead moments ago—
Now rising.
Joining the enemy.
"That's just cheating," I muttered.
The figure remained seated on its undead steed, framed perfectly against burning huts and collapsing walls.
Like it knew.
Like it wanted to look cinematic.
Like it was enjoying the show.
I yanked my blade free from another skull and looked up.
And it looked back.
Right at me.
My vision pinged.
Enemy Identified: Lich
Of course it is.
Of course.
The Lich tilted its head slightly.
And then—
It smiled.
I swear it did.
Its voice came layered, echoing, dripping with something ancient and amused.
"Ain't you a sight for sore eyes!"