Deep within a frigid, foul-smelling cavern.
A grotesque, diminutive goblin with blue skin twisted its spindly, deformed fingers—three in total, sharp and dexterous. Slowly, it inserted a gleaming, small blade into the mouth of a boy, barely fifteen or sixteen.
The boy’s condition was miserable, yet his consciousness remained cruelly intact.
His wide eyes stared helplessly as the cold blade pressed deeper into his throat. Desperately, he strained his remaining mobile fingers—his right thumb and left ring finger—to push himself half a centimeter back against the wall.
“No… please… Ahhh—AAARGH!”
“Oh? Does it hurt?”
The goblin’s high-pitched, infantile voice echoed mockingly, pausing its motion with a feigned look of concern.
“It… hurts… It hurts so much…”
“Alright then, I’ll be gentle.”
With those words, the goblin’s three fingers tightened suddenly, and with a forceful shove, it drove the dagger deep into the boy’s throat.
Crack.
The boy’s eyes bulged as blood poured from his mouth like a burst dam. His body convulsed violently before falling limp, lifeless.
The goblin, now splattered with blood, licked its lips with a twisted grin. Its yellow, bulbous eyes glinted with malice as it turned its gaze toward its next prey—the weakest member of the adventuring party, a young male priest.
The goblin’s yellow eyes narrowed. “Oh my, already unconscious?”
It waddled closer to the priest, its gaze trailing down with a lecherous glint before stopping at the unconscious man’s crotch.
Its wicked grin widened, and with a sharp motion, it thrust its dagger downward.
But before the blade could strike, the goblin’s motion abruptly halted.
Instead, a fountain of mossy-green blood erupted from its neck. The air seemed to twist as if sucking the very life from its veins.
The goblin collapsed lifelessly to the ground. Its once-vibrant yellow eyes faded, now locked on the young priest—who, to its horror, was very much awake.
The priest slowly rose, brushing dirt from his tattered robes. His voice, calm yet laced with bitterness, broke the cavern’s eerie silence.
“What a rotten day. Barely wake up, and someone’s already trying to kill me and take my future kids.”
He dusted his sleeves with an air of nonchalance, his gaze sweeping across the room.
Three bodies lay sprawled under the dim light of a dying campfire.
A righteous-faced warrior, a half-dressed female mage, and an archer who’d been stabbed so many times he resembled a pincushion. Each of them met their end in gruesome ways—decapitation, self-inflicted tongue-biting, and sheer blood loss.
Their vacant eyes stared back, frozen in agony. The flickering shadows cast by the campfire only deepened the horror of their deaths.
Yet the priest seemed unfazed. After a brief glance, he lost interest, shifting his focus to himself instead.
His weathered gray robes were riddled with holes and wrinkles, his frayed leather shoes barely clinging to his feet. A simple wooden staff rested on the ground, just within reach.
“So, this time I’m a priest, huh?”
With a resigned sigh, he tossed aside the goblin’s bloodied dagger and flexed his fingers, calling up his status panel with practiced ease.
Floating before him was a translucent blue interface, its simplistic design contrasting starkly with the grim scene surrounding him. The priest’s sharp gaze skimmed over the details displayed on the screen:
[Name]: Shadra
[Level]: 14
[Primary Class]: Priest
[Secondary Class]: Main Class (Locked)
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[Bloodline/Grade]: F (Fixed Attribute; Ranks from A to F. The higher the rank, the faster the growth and stronger the talent.)
[Strength]: 1
[Intelligence]: 3
[Wisdom]: 2
[Constitution]: 2
[Dexterity]: 2
[Charisma]: -1 (Fixed Attribute; Cannot be increased through leveling.)
[Luck]: 1
[Mental State]: Low
[Pain Resistance]: 13 (Higher value reduces pain perception.)
[Body Usage Rate]: 90% (Daily stamina utilization rate, calculated from Level 1.)
Skills:
* Tier 1 Charge
* Tier 1 Self-Enhance
* Tier 1 Identification
* Tier 1 Healing
Magic Backpack:
* 400 Copper Coins
* Two Low-Level Healing Potions
* A Room Key from the Hunter Tavern
* Two Commission Scrolls
Commissions:
* Recover florist Luni’s stolen undergarments from goblins. Reward: 70 copper coins and one slice of Lillian's strawberry cake.
* Goblin extermination. Reward: 100 copper coins and a plain decorative necklace (non-magical).
Shadra furrowed his brow as he reviewed the stats. His face twisted into a grimace of exasperation.
An F-rank bloodline... Not great. But what kind of priest puts points into physical skills like Charge and Self-Enhancement? And dumping most of the stat points into Pain Resistance? He sighed, his expression darkening.
What an absolute mess of a build.
It seemed this mission wouldn’t be simple.
Yes, this priest may seem alive, but in reality, he was already dead. His body had been taken over by a soul from another world.
The Firebearer.
It sounded honorable, but in truth, it was an underground profession widely scorned in his original world, a nameless job of great dishonor.
After receiving guidance from a flat-chested girl who was fond of cosplay and divination, the Firebearer would be sent on various world-saving tasks.
Usually, the souls who were chosen as vessels were powerful beings who died prematurely.
However, Shadra had once been the pet dog of a queen to stop a war. That loli queen, although young-looking, was sharp-minded and no one had ever been able to fully understand her.
So, it was clear that even this seemingly unremarkable person had something special about him, though he wasn’t aware of it yet.
In addition to some knowledge about this world, Shadra also gained a new skill in his list: Mr. Dice.
Its function was simple: there was a chance to roll for any skill or magic from Tier 1 to Tier 7. Of course, the higher the skill level, the lower the chances.
“Of course, this is the job I get assigned.” His voice was tinged with sarcasm as he scrolled through the quest information, muttering under his breath. “I’m supposed to stop a darkened hero, save the world, and prevent myself from being betrayed… NTR, huh? What a lovely addition.”
NTR—three simple letters, but their meaning sent a chill down his spine (It refers to a genre or storyline where a character, typically a romantic partner, is "taken away" or "cheated on" by someone else, often without their consent or knowledge.)
He couldn’t help but scoff at his own misfortune.
Just what I needed. Not only am I stuck in a random priest’s body, but now I have to deal with this kind of task… He gritted his teeth. "Can’t even catch a break."
He took another look at the mission details, then cursed under his breath.
[Trial Difficulty]: S
Shadra’s hand hovered over the screen for a moment as he stared at the S-grade difficulty with wide eyes.
“What? S-class?” He rubbed his eyes, double-checking to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. “There’s no way…”
He ran his fingers over the interface again. The text was unchanged.
He leaned back against the cold stone wall, deep in thought.
S-class... That’s usually reserved for world-ending catastrophes or final bosses, the kinds of things that require extraordinary methods to overcome. Even a genius would struggle with something like this. He let out a low growl, frustration mounting. I’m not even sure how I’m supposed to survive with these pathetic stats.
The quest didn’t end there. As he scrolled down further, his eyes landed on a new section that caused him to freeze.
[NTR Level]: 80%
Shadra stared blankly at the words, as though the meaning was too surreal to process.
"80%?! How the hell am I supposed to fix this?" He snapped, his fingers tightening around his staff. So I’m either going to have to prevent this world’s version of me from being cheated on... or deal with the aftermath of the betrayal.
How delightful.
Despite the gravity of the situation, he couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of irony. His predicament was growing more and more ridiculous by the second.
Shadra took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves.
"I guess... this is my fate now." His voice was softer, resigned. He shut the screen and sighed, glancing at the bodies of his fallen companions once again.
At least they’re not in the mess I’m in, he muttered. No one deserves to be part of this... NTR nonsense. But whatever. I’ve been through worse.
He straightened up, determination beginning to replace his frustration.
Fine. Let’s see how far I can go. If I’m going to be stuck here, might as well make the most of it.
With renewed resolve, Shadra’s eyes scanned the room once more. The quest’s difficulty, the NTR scenario—he had no choice but to press forward. He needed to gather strength, make the most of what little time he had, and find a way to survive.
His first task was to equip himself properly for what lay ahead. He walked over to the bodies, starting with the warrior’s corpse. The large sword, though unwieldy for someone of his size, was in much better condition than his priest staff, so he carefully hefted it.
Next, he rummaged through the bodies of the mage and archer, taking any useful items—potions, weapons, anything he could carry. In the end, his magical inventory was stuffed with items: a handful of glowing orbs, throwing knives, a few torches, and some scraps of paper with vague writing.
At this point, Shadra felt more equipped than he had moments ago, but the urgency of the mission still weighed heavily on him.
He glanced back at the goblin’s body, which had been the cause of so much destruction.
I’ll figure out what’s going on, he muttered. "But first, I need to get out of here."