Ezreal charged into the thick of combat, welding his sword high above his head. The weight of the sword, however, was staggering – he could feel his arms already starting to grow weary, straining at the heft of the blade and hilt. It was unlike any other experience he had ever had in other medieval combat-based games – they never had the capacity to emulate different sensations like physical effort, or the sweat that was starting to drip down his brow. Another +1 in the game rating, and stunning innovation into technological development.

Charging right in between two soldiers in their chainmail armor, Ezreal swung his blade at the first goblin he saw. They were ugly little things, short and pudgy with their cauliflower ears and scantly clad in their leather armor – but always the easiest mobs to defeat right at the start. With a grin, Ezreal threw his entire body weight into the swing high above his head, ready to see the goblin split into two halves before his feet…

… Which completely missed its mark, as the blade buried itself deep into the soil.

The goblin had dove to the left to avoid Ezreal’s downstroke, narrowly avoiding the edge of the blade at the very last second. It quickly spun around faster than Ezreal’s eyes could follow, slashing its dagger towards him.

The dagger caught Ezreal’s upper thigh, slicing a few centimeters into his flesh. Leaping back to avoid another dagger flying towards his head, Ezreal barely managed to avoid the attacks from the goblin to his right.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Ezreal was now on the complete defensive, barely managing to dodge the vicious and quick strikes from the two goblins tag teaming him on both sides. Blood began pouring from the various cuts all around his skin, flooding out alongside the remaining energy Ezreal had left in his body – every breath was a battle all in itself, the air feeling as rough as sandpaper every time he inhaled what felt like would be last breath.

In his exertion, he forgot about the number one rule of combat – to recognize the environment you’re in. Ezreal, growing overwhelmed and exerted by the second, stumbled backwards on the arm of a dead NPC, dropping any remnants of his over-exerted guard.

His instincts urged him to flee, yet he lay there on the rocky ground, frozen in fear. His foes raised their daggers high above his head, ready to make quick work of Ezreal’s body, their silhouettes illuminated pure black against the pale blue sky.

Time seemed to slow down to a standstill. His death here would have no meaning – after all, dying in game simply meant that he would respawn once more at a checkpoint.

Yet why did he feel so much fear and dread? Why was his heart pounding so quickly, his body so averse to the idea of death? Unable to accept his death, Ezreal shielded his body with his forearms, hoping it would spare him a killing blow. He closed his eyes tightly, praying to god above that –

WHAM!

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A shield appeared out of nowhere, driving into both goblins and knocking them out cold. It narrowly deflected the daggers that had been thrown towards Ezreal, which would’ve undoubtedly been a killing blow. The shield bearer flipped up their sword into the air with grace, gripping the handle at the highest point. They then slashed the blade down, the edge cleanly slicing through the necks of the goblins who had been passed out on the ground – with the heads rolling away towards the remaining goblins, their eyes widening in fear at the sight of their comrade’s death.

The uncertainty of combat reflected visibly in their eyes, almost human-like in light of their grotesque appearance. Yet they looked up with an intense gleam in their eye, gripping their short swords and daggers tighter and tighter as they approached with far more hesitancy than before.

The two groups faced off as Ezreal scrambled to his feet, the cuts and bruises feeling far more pronounced than they did before. The only thing that stood between him and certain death at this point was the hero, who looked to be in rough shape themselves – with their chain mail armor scuffed to hell, even bent by force in some areas. Yet they stood tall and proud despite their short physical stature, gripping their comically large sword tightly in both hands.

“Are you alright?” shouted the figure, keeping their eyes on the goblins in front of them.

“I – I don’t know. I think I’m alright?”

“Well, get a hold of yourself! There’s more coming!”

Grabbing the dagger from the fallen goblins, Ezreal readied himself for the next onslaught of enemies who slowly approached. Fear gripped his heart as they approached with their weapons drawn, growling like a pack of hyenas who’ve found their next meal.

What the hell do we do now?

The hero answered his thoughts, dashing forward to meet the goblins. Spinning to avoid the thrust of the goblin’s short swords, they countered quickly with a backhand slash which cut into the throats of two of the goblins. They fell with horrendous gurgles, knocking Ezreal out of his stupor.

“What the hell are you doing? Come help me!”

Ezreal dashed forward, reinforcing the hero’s exposed rear. An additional two goblins whipped around the hero, already dealing with 3 goblins on their own, in an attempt to overwhelm them. Roaring in anger, Ezreal ran over one of the smaller goblins, crushing its head with his bare feet with a disgusting crack.

Recalling his experience in daggers from other assassin-style video games, he pushed himself into the other goblin’s swing to stay close, preventing the blade from ever reaching him – and countered with a uppercut with the dagger in hand, the blade smoothly sliding up into the goblin’s jaw. The light flickered out from the goblin’s eyes as blood began flowing out the wound and down Ezreal’s hand.

More and more goblins appear out of nowhere in Ezreal’s perspective, as he continually cut down the endless stream of goblins with the lighter dagger in hand. Despite the sudden spike of adrenaline, invigorated by the support of the hero, he could feel his arms and legs slowly starting to slow down as the bodies began piling up all around them – and he could sense the hero was slowing down too.

It was only a matter of time before death would follow.

Ah… so this is how I die. This is how it all ends, huh? Ezreal’s instincts screamed at him to run, to flee despite being surrounded. Screaming at him to live against all odds.

A short sword slipped past Ezreal’s guard, lodging itself into the right of his abdomen. The goblin holding it grinned with bloody murder, thrusting the blade deeper and deeper into his body. The pain was far stronger than any edge he had used on himself.

Ezreal grunted, feeling the white-hot blade cutting the layers upon layers of muscles in his body. The blood coming out felt cold in contrast, as his body heat flared up, seemingly burning him from the inside. Ignoring the sword, Ezreal suddenly let go of the dagger and gripped his hands around the goblins neck.

If he were to die, he would take another one out with him.

Gripping tighter and tighter as he could feel the tendrils of life slowly spooling away from him, Ezreal couldn’t seem to breath in enough air anymore. Each breath became more and more laborious, the air becoming thick as soup.

As the light flickered out of view and the body of the goblin below him became limp, he could hear horns bellowing in the distance. The ground seemed to shudder, as the earth below him seemed to thunder in a pattern he couldn’t discern or understand.

“Stay with me, you hear?! They’ve arrived! You have to stay awake, don’t -“

Darkness flooded Ezreal’s vision once more.