Victor searched through the living room for the first aid kit, doing his best to ignore the torn up bodies of what were his parents.

He didn’t remember them that well, he didn’t remember much of the world before it ended, and he certainly didn’t remember where they put the first aid kit.

He turned to look at them once again.

Could I have saved them? If I had not taken so long, if I had rushed downstairs immediately, textbook in hand.

Probably.

He shook those thoughts out of his head, guilt was a distraction, distractions get you killed.

“Found it,” He pulled the first aid kit out, taking a single bandage and wrapping it around the cut on his finger. In a way goblins were like sharks, going directly after the smell of blood, so he had set a trap with this in mind.

Cutting his own finger and smearing the blood on a shirt, a nice easy target for it to chew on before it died. But now the cut was going to draw them towards him, he liked it better when he could pick his fights.

Maybe he was worrying too much, a couple of drops of blood was nothing compared to all the mutilated corpses that were probably lying everywhere. But one could never be too cautious, a lesson he learned pretty quickly.

He looked at the bodies one more time before leaving, trying to recall their faces using what pieces were left. Nothing.

Turning to leave through what remained of the front door, he stepped out into the suburban street at the front of his house. He kept his sword low, close to him, tightly gripping onto its handle.

“Gaark!” One of the goblins saw him, yelling to alert its companions, and all the others roaming around the street.

He counted them in his head, “Two, four, seven, eight, ten?”

Easy.

The closest one charged eagerly, desperate to get the first bite. Victor jabbed downwards at it, catching it square in the chest.

Quickly he pulled his blade back out and lowered it, keeping it about waist height. Slashing horizontally he caught the second one across the snout.

Compared to what he was used to fighting goblins were slow and weak, then again so was he. Even though he could pull off each motion smoothly, he felt slow, like he was fighting underwater.

“Gaark!” Soon the fight was over. Yet he still stood there, knees bent, just waiting. One of them could simply be playing dead, waiting for him to lower his guard. He checked each one slowly, only after he had confirmed the ones who were crying out in pain were properly dead did he loosen back up.

Methodically he finished off the ones he had only severely wounded, their desperate cries of pain silenced one by one.

Level 2 achieved: Strength +2, Constitution +1, Dexterity +2, Intelligence +0, Wisdom +0.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Gaark,” The last one growled at him weakly, trying to edge away. It was bleeding from the gut, one hand cradling its wound, the other propping it up. It stared at him with shaky eyes, begging for mercy.

Victor brought his blade down on its head without hesitation, using far more force than he was necessary to kill.

-

“Gaark!” Two goblins stood at the bottom of a young oak tree, jumping up and down jaws snapping at the girl sitting in the tree’s branches.

Marie was high enough that they couldn’t reach her, but the goblins didn’t seem to be losing interest, their mouths dripping with drool and spit.

These were the two she had just watched tear into her mom and dad, even from here she could see the hints of red blood on their shoddy axes. She nearly threw up thinking about it.

Eventually, they’ll figure out how to climb the tree or cut it down. Then what?

She looked around, there wasn’t really anywhere else she could go. The tree was in their backyard, but it was pretty far away from the house. She could try jumping into her neighbour’s garden, but the fact that no one had come out to complain about the noise didn’t bode well for her chances there...

“Gaark!” A sharp piercing scream from one of the goblins brought her attention back down. The one that had screamed had its head caved in by some kind of longsword, its wielder looking like a teenager one or two years her elder.

“Garrk!” The last one swung at him, missing and planting the axe in the ground instead. It reached down to pull the axe back out, but the young man slashed downwards with his blade, cutting its hand clean off.

“Gaark!” The goblin roared in pain, falling backwards clutching its dismembered limb.

The mystery man looked up at her.

“It’s safe now, you can come down from there.”

She nodded and lowered herself down. When she glanced back up at him she was taken aback a little. Something about him felt off, something about him scared her.

“Thank you.” She managed to stutter out.

“You’re welcome,” He had the last goblin pinned under his boots, one on its chest, the other on the arm that still had a hand, he pointed downwards, “Kill it.”

“What?”

“You need to kill it.”

“Why?”

“You’ll find out after you kill it.”

She looked down at the goblin, a living, breathing creature. Desperately looking for a way to escape, just like she was.

Kill it? How do I even kill it? Grab its head and twist it? Snap its neck like I’m in a movie?

“Can I... can I get something from the house to kill it with?”

“Sure,” He turned the goblin over and grabbed it by the wrists, pinning both arms behind its back. It flailed its legs wildly as he held it out in front of himself, like a carrier bag.

She walked back into her home, heading straight for the kitchen, picking up the largest knife she could find. It felt extremely heavy.

The goblin was pressed against the countertop, facing towards her.

Press the knife into it, just press it in.

She placed the tip gently against its head, it flinched, growing more desperate. The young man grabbed the back of its head and pressed it down.

“Hurry up.”

“Sorry.” She readied herself again, placing the tip against its head, feeling it shake the blade as it struggled, or was that her own hands shaking.

Press the knife into it, press it in.

Just close your eyes and kill it.

Kill it.

Kill it, Kill it, Kill it.

She opened her eyes again, the knife had barely moved.

“I… I can’t.” She lowered the knife, too scared to look him in the eye.

“It wouldn’t hesitate to kill you given the chance.”

“I know but…” She looked at the goblin once more, it was glaring at her now no longer afraid, almost like it had accepted its death, but...

He watched her quietly, then simply sighed

“I guess it can’t be helped.”

“I’m sorry, I just…”

“Hey, look up.”

She did.

Then he let the goblin go.