The air around me felt alive, thrumming with energy as if a storm was building just beneath my skin.

I sat cross-legged, forcing myself to remain still despite the pull of the vortex forming around me. It was like being caught in a whirlwind, my body both pulled and pushed at the same time, tension mounting in every muscle. For what felt like an eternity—maybe a quarter of an hour, though keeping track of time wasn’t exactly easy—I wrestled with the growing power within me.

There was a threshold now, a gate blocking my progression, but unlike before, it didn’t feel like an impenetrable ceiling. No, this time I could sense it—the barrier could be broken if I just pushed harder.

With renewed determination, I drew in more of the Tecz energy, focusing all my thoughts on breaking through. The vortex intensified, whipping around me in a violent dance. The room wasn’t spared from its fury—pillows and blankets were torn from the beds and flung about like ragdolls, the desk groaned and rattled, and the chair crashed against the wall with a loud bang.

The dresser’s doors slammed open and shut like the jaws of some mechanical beast, clattering with a speed that made me fear they’d fly off their hinges.

But the chaos in the room was distant to me, drowned out by the primal need to advance, to reach the next stage. My worry was replaced by the overwhelming euphoria of nearing a breakthrough. The barrier was weakening, cracking, and I could feel the power just beyond it, tantalizingly close. I could almost taste it.

And then, suddenly, the vortex contracted, shrinking into itself until the raging windstorm became no more than a light breeze.

My feet touched down softly on the floor, and in that instant, a powerful surge of energy exploded outward from me, shaking the room as the shockwaves pulsed through the air. My body trembled, not with fear or exhaustion, but with the sheer magnitude of what I had just unlocked.

I looked down at my hands, then my body, half-expecting some visible transformation. But there was nothing outwardly different. No new scars, no physical change, but internally—I felt it. My senses were sharper, my body lighter, and my Heartile pulsed with a heavier weight. I was alive in a way I had never felt before. The power coursing through me was undeniable, an electric current humming in my veins.

I had not only broken through the first minor stage—I had fully awakened my typing. The feeling was unmistakable, a new kind of energy flowing through me. Goblin had warned me it would take weeks to awaken fully, but it seemed I had managed to accelerate the process. If I had known how crucial my progression was to unlocking this power, I would’ve focused on it sooner.

As the adrenaline began to settle, I glanced around at the destruction my breakthrough had caused. The room was a disaster, yet amidst the mess, Goblin lay asleep on the floor, completely oblivious to the chaos that had unfolded. Not a single tremor, crash, or shockwave had stirred him from his slumber.

Shaking my head, I lifted him carefully, placing him back onto his bed with his pillows and blankets piled around him.

The temptation to wake him up and share my excitement was almost overwhelming, but I hesitated. Goblin was not one to take kindly to having his sleep disturbed, and the last thing I needed was to face his wrath for waking him up prematurely.

As I laid back on my own bed, my screen flashed, notifying me of an upcoming fight in ten minutes. I muttered a small thanks to Goblin for helping me set up the fighter’s network earlier. It was a useful tool, showing match schedules and fighter stats, though I wasn’t sure if fans had access to the same information.

Though I could do without the constant, concentration-breaking notifications. Which for some reason I couldn't turn off.

I glanced at the fighters' names, and a chill ran through me.

"Shit!" I jumped up, my pulse quickening. I darted across the room to Goblin's dresser and yanked out his robes, throwing them onto his bed.

For a moment, I considered letting him sleep, but panic quickly overrode any hesitation. His fight was starting soon, and he’d kill me if I let him miss it.

"Goblin! Wake up!" I shook him, but his sleep was too deep. Frustration flared. There was only one way left.

"I'm sorry for this, Goblin," I whispered, backing up a few steps.

Channeling the energy in my hands, I delivered the hardest slap I could muster right across his face. The crack echoed through the room, and Goblin shot up, furious. Surprisingly he was unaffected.

"You bastard!" he roared, reaching into the void and pulling out his staff. His eyes burned with fury.

I threw my hands up in surrender. "Wait, wait! Your fight starts in ten minutes!"

The anger in his eyes evaporated as he looked at his screen, confirming my words. Without another glance at me, he grabbed his robes, yanked them on, and bolted out the door. I let out a long, relieved sigh. Crisis averted.

"You should've told me sooner! How the hell did nothing or nobody notify me!" He poked his head through the door seconds later, before running out once more.

With Goblin out of the way, cleaning the room took only a few minutes. I straightened the beds, collected the scattered items, and adjusted the furniture back to its original place. After tidying up, I grabbed my mask and headed toward the stadium.

Navigating the maze of tunnels was becoming second nature. Eventually, I found myself in a familiar spot—one of the exclusive seating areas right next to the battlefield, reserved for fighters like me. I sat down, close enough to see every movement inside the cage, my mask concealing my face from the spectators.

I couldn’t help but notice Beak Mask a few rows down, who mockingly mimicked a head-slam, laughing with someone nearby. I gritted my teeth.

Asshole.

Turning my attention back to the massive jumbotron hanging above the arena, I saw both fighters inside the cage. Goblin was sitting calmly on the ground while his opponent, The Reaper, was pacing at the opposite end, bouncing lightly on his feet. His mask was unnerving—a ghostly white with hollowed-out eyes and holes where the mouth should be. His presence radiated menace.

A voice from beside me nearly made me jump out of my skin. "Who do you think’s gonna win?"

I whipped my head around to see a small man sitting next to me, dressed similarly, though his mask was different—blacked-out eyes and strange flaps around the neck, like the frills of a lizard.

"Uh... I don’t know. Haven’t seen them fight before," I muttered, trying to keep my distance. Something about him made my skin crawl.

"Fair enough," he replied without looking at me. "You’re the new guy, right? The one who got ragdolled in his first fight?"

My stomach sank. "Yeah... that's me," I muttered under my breath. Ragdolled. The last thing I wanted to be remembered for.

"Don’t sweat it," he said casually. "Most people lose their first fight. Though, no one’s ever gotten beat that badly." He chuckled darkly. "I think The Reaper’s gonna take this one."

I just nodded, not wanting to engage any further. My loyalty was naturally with Goblin, but I had no clue how strong either of them really was.

The horn blared, signaling the start of the fight.

Goblin sprang to his feet, his staff gripped tightly in his hands. He charged forward, closing the distance between him and The Reaper with rapid steps. But just as he neared striking range, Goblin pivoted, his movements fluid and unpredictable. He dropped low, sweeping his legs out to knock The Reaper off balance.

But The Reaper was ready. With an almost inhuman grace, he leaped over the sweep and twisted in the air, bringing his massive scythe down in a deadly arc aimed at Goblin’s head.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

Goblin’s response was lightning fast. He flipped onto his hands, deflecting the scythe with a powerful kick, sparks flying as metal met energy. He landed back on his feet, his eyes locked onto The Reaper, both of them sizing each other up.

The Reaper charged, swinging his scythe in a blur of deadly slices. Each strike was aimed to kill, but Goblin danced around them, his staff moving just as fast to block and parry.

Still, The Reaper's speed was overwhelming, and it wasn’t long before Goblin started taking hits—slices opening up on his arms and torso. Blood began to trickle from the wounds, and with a grunt of frustration, Goblin leaped backward, putting some distance between them.

Then, something changed. A brilliant green aura flared to life around Goblin, shimmering like a shield. His breathing slowed, his eyes sharpened, and in a surprising move, he lifted his staff high and... snapped it cleanly over his knee.

My eyes widened. 'An Oriv?' I thought, staring in shock at the twin batons now clutched in each of his hands.

The man beside me chuckled, his voice low and unsettling. "Not quite what you're thinking."

Before I could ask what he meant or how the hell he read my mind, Goblin shot forward, faster than before, the twin batons spinning like blurs in his hands. The green energy around him surged, spiraling with his movements.

The Reaper smiled, confident, as he raised his scythe for a final, devastating blow. The blade sliced through the air, aimed right at Goblin’s spinning form.

But then—The Reaper froze.

Time seemed to stand still. His body locked mid-swing, his face contorted in confusion and fear.

‘What just happened?’

The words barely escaped my lips as I shot out of my seat, heart pounding. In the ring below, chaos unfolded. The crowd’s roar reverberated through the stadium—some cheering in a feverish frenzy, others voicing their disbelief.

With a thunderous crash, Goblin had tackled the Reaper to the ground, using his entire body weight to drive him down. The Reaper’s scythe, once menacing and glinting under the harsh lights, skittered across the arena floor, useless now. Goblin wasted no time.

His batons—thick, rough-hewn pieces of wood—came down in a savage blur.. Each blow was relentless, battering the Reaper’s skull with the kind of brutal efficiency only years of merciless street fighting could hone. The sound echoed, bone against wood, a sickening rhythm of violence that silenced the audience in collective shock.

The once-fearsome Reaper, now defenseless and pinned beneath Goblin’s weight, didn’t stand a chance. He could do nothing but lay there, eyes wide with terror as Goblin pummeled him again and again, until his body was limp, face a bloodied, unrecognizable mess. The brutality of it all sent a chill down my spine.

It wasn’t until the referee leaped in, wrenching Goblin off with force, that the beating ceased. Goblin rose to his feet, breathing hard, his batons gripped tightly in both hands as if he hadn’t yet satisfied whatever savage urge had driven him. His gaze swept over the arena before he thrust his arms into the air in a wordless declaration of victory.

The crowd erupted into madness.

On the ground, the Reaper lay motionless, utterly defeated, stripped of every ounce of pride he once carried.

“What… what the hell just happened?” My voice felt distant, like it belonged to someone else. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the ring, from the broken form of the Reaper, still and bloodied.

A figure beside me shifted. “So he’s an Eris. Interesting.” The voice came, calm and dispassionate—eerily devoid of any of the shock the rest of us felt.

I whipped around to face him. “An Eris? So that… that was a mental attack? The Reaper freezing like that… it wasn’t—” My eyes darted back to the ring, still trying to process what I’d just witnessed.

“That’s right.” The man nodded, though his tone remained clinical. “At the last moment, Goblin immobilized the Reaper with a mental attack, paralyzing him long enough to take the win. It’s the first time he’s revealed his actual ability, so it’s no surprise the Reaper couldn’t respond.”

I swallowed hard, the pieces falling into place, albeit reluctantly. Goblin, with his sheer physicality, had been hiding something far more dangerous—a mental power that could turn the tide of battle in an instant. That explained the Reaper’s sudden stillness, his helplessness in those final moments.

I blinked, turning back to the man beside me. “Well, I guess you were wrong about your bet, huh?” I managed a weak smile, but when I looked where the masked man had been, there was nothing. Just empty space.

“What the…?” I scanned the stands, but he was gone. Completely vanished, like he’d never been there in the first place. “What the hell is that guy?”

Unease prickled at the back of my neck. Shrugging it off, I quickly left the stadium and hurried back to my room, mind racing with everything that had transpired. I still couldn’t shake the image of the Reaper lying motionless, the brutal efficiency with which Goblin had taken him down.

As I opened the door to my room, I stopped in my tracks, blinking in confusion. Something was… off. Very off.

The room was spotless.

Both beds—mine and Goblin’s—were neatly made, not a single wrinkle in sight. In fact the room looked even better than when I made it. Everything was arranged with eerie precision, a level of care and cleanliness that hadn’t been there before. My bed hadn’t been touched like this in ages.

Cautiously, I crossed the room and opened my dresser. My armor, meticulously folded, lay tucked inside my briefcase, along with my mask. But there was something else.

A small book.

And on top of it, a letter.

Frowning, I plucked the note from the book and unfolded it. The handwriting was unmistakable—Goblin’s.

Keep growing, Idiot

—Goblin

I stared at the words for a long moment, the weight of them sinking in. Dropping the note, I tore through the room, opening every drawer, checking every corner. Goblin was gone. No trace of him remained—not a single item of clothing, not a personal effect. His entire presence had been wiped clean, like he had never even been my roommate.

I sank onto my bed, trying to comprehend what had just happened. There were only two possibilities: either he had left of his own accord, which I didn’t want to believe, or…

My heart skipped a beat.

I jumped to my feet and turned on my screen, frantically navigating to the leaderboard. The Underground’s fighter rankings flickered to life before me. My eyes scanned the list, searching for a familiar name. There, at the very bottom, I found myself—dead last, with a record of 0-0-1.

I should’ve felt a sting of disappointment, but I didn’t have time for that now. I scrolled faster, my heart pounding in my ears.

And then I saw it.

Rank 96: The Goblin

I exhaled sharply, leaning back in my chair. Goblin had done it. He’d broken into the top one hundred, and with that, he’d moved up to the next level—the next tier of fighters. He wasn’t gone. He was… he was where he needed to be. Though actually, that didn't make sense. I thought only the top twenty got their own rooms? Whatever, something must've changed. But shouldn't I have been told? No, nevermind that.

I didn’t feel sad. Not really. Goblin had been my first real friend in this new life, the one who had shown me guidance when no one else had. But now, he was where he belonged—among the top. He deserved it. And truth be told, we really weren’t all that close.

As I looked closer at my screen, my eye caught something. A link, right between ranks one hundred and one hundred and one.

IMPORTANT: NEW BRANCH

Curiosity gnawed at me. I clicked on the link, and a video player popped up.

Enzo’s voice crackled through the screen.

“Greetings, my beautiful fighters!” he said, his tone oozing amusement. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I didn’t call for an assembly, especially since I have something so important to announce. But you see, I thought it’d be funnier to let you find it yourselves while you’re busy beating each other up over your rankings.” He laughed, a low, sinister sound.

I leaned closer, feeling a strange tension building in my chest.

“I’m pleased to announce that The Underground will no longer remain… well, underground. After years of negotiations, I’ve been granted the rights to start a new fighting ring—one in the heart of Irakos City. And I’m taking the top one hundred fighters with me for the inaugural matches.”

My heart leaped in my chest.

“Naturally,” Enzo continued, “this means the rest of you will move up in rank. But don’t get too comfortable. Sponsorship matches will be exclusive to the top twenty-five, and the pay cuts for those of you left behind will be… significant.”

He smiled, a cruel glint in his eyes. “Feel free to come and complain if you have a problem with that.”

The video ended abruptly, leaving a tense silence in its wake.

I sat there for a moment, absorbing the news. Goblin wasn’t just leaving the Underground—he was leaving the entire league.

However, that last part hit me even hard. What about the rest of us? We’d be stuck, scrapping for whatever was left behind.

But I didn’t care. Not really.

I stood, grabbing the book Goblin had left behind. I flipped through its pages, and my respect for him deepened tenfold. The book was a guide—Goblins Guide For The Talentless. The title made me smirk, but the contents were incredible. Detailed notes on stage progression, how to stabilize your foundation, and even tips for rapid improvement. The last section? A detailed analysis of every fighter ranked below one hundred—patterns, fighting styles, weaknesses.

Goblin had left me with everything I needed.

A fire lit inside me. I tucked the book into my pocket, grabbed my armor, and headed for the door. Goblin may have left, but that didn’t mean it was over.

I would climb the ranks.

And when I got to the top, I’d face him again. But next time, it would be me calling the shots.

As I left, a strange sense of forgetfulness gnawed at me, like something important was slipping through my fingers.

But for now, I had a goal.

And I wasn’t going to stop until I reached it.