The tepid air whispered doubt into Kieran's ears, every unknown sound in the silent dark spun harrowing tales of enemies approaching with bloody intent to kill him at this very moment. Anxiety roiled in his chest and choked the air from his lungs little by little.

When the fear threatened to drown him, a loud choking cough from Darren interrupted his mental tangent, changing the direction of his thoughts to the very stone beneath his knees that now mocked him and promised he would be left to waste away in this dark forgotten tomb forever.

Kieran carefully prodded the other man with a question or two to fill the silence, but to little effect. The man briefly mentioned his phone breaking but then he saw some “weird boxes” and “Something bout a map and terminal” but didn't get anything more informative and went back to his own though.

He figured the man must not seem to grasp any idea of what the system windows had meant, especially with their cryptic mention of 'spatial assimilation' and 'chosen'–or any number of the oddly game-like keywords he'd seen. Too many to even clearly remember them all by now without knowing how to access a possible menu or directory and a lot of trial and error. Kieran thought it better to leave the guy nursing his wounds whilst ensuring he prepared himself for as much possible

The grizzly man also failed to mention he had been about to try to stab a couple of guys on the tube for looking at him the wrong way, but he didn’t mind not bringing that up just in case the guy recognised him.

More importantly to Kieran was the niggling worry for his less game-oriented friends, not to mention the rest of humanity, and how they all might be faring through this madness. Most normal people definitely would not spend an abundance of their free time binging niche trope-filled sci-fi/fantasy sub-genres in preperation for this most unlikely of apolocalypses.

The messy nature of humans that he was familiar with had him wondering if they might tear each other apart from fear of survival, or perhaps hurt themselves in the confusion like a fucking pokemon.

He personally hoped that maybe, just maybe, everyeone would work together for the greater good.

Wishful thinking, but it doesnt hurt to hope…

Unable to sit there patiently being eating alive by his own doubts and fears, Kieran got back to his feet with a shaky determination. Gradually, he warmed up his stiff legs with light stretches and squats whilst waiting for the Orcs to come back. He knew he must look weird as hell to anyone watching but he didnt care.

Someone capable of watching me in the dark is far more concerning. And Darren hasn't said anything either.

The cold crackling of his joints and tendons in his legs prompted him to remember that any random torn muscle or even a rolled ankle on the loose rocks would throw a devastating wrench in any kind of plan he devised. Whether he might end up in combat or intense running for his life, he would definitely need to move quickly, one way or the other.

Rule one, always limber up!

Feeling grateful to just engage in the simplistic focus of his breathing and losing himself in the gentle movements of his body helped to erode the deep fear and terror his imagination plagued him with.

The nostalgia of past fights stuck in his mind, an itchy nervousness seemed to match the exact same feeling of clarity that would come over him when preparing to spar with the bigger and more intimidating guys back in his brutal training classes.

Usually, Nathan opted to be his sparring partner before any of the bigger guys could make quick work of him, always willing to match his pace and ease off with harder strikes, unlike some of the experienced fighters. Occasionally he would be paired with and inevitably get his ass kicked by them, though. But he figured at least he got comfortable with taking a bit of a beating.

So accustomed to never getting the better of his overly athletic and larger friend, Kieran developed a more tentative approach to the bouts and over time he fought more reflexively based on his opponent's openings. But for that, he had to remain incredibly calm inside to react correctly.

Their old instructor Mr Machida used to preach to him in his uniquely mixed Brazilian and Japanese accent "Step one! you calm the body to bring it in line with your intent. Step two! you ready your mind for what comes after…allow the positive and negative to pass through your mind until only you remain, then you will be ready for anything."

Those words stuck with Kieran through all his martial arts training, even giving him greater clarity of mind for other aspects of his life and dealing with stress.

Methodically synchronised breaths paired with gentle, flowing movements.

Stay calm, just remember the basics.

He exhaled a strong breath with the thought, sinking deeper into himself mentally, he needed to stay relaxed yet still remain focused enough to avoid simple mistakes that could cost him dearly. The consistent focus on each long breath with simple yoga-like stretches allowed him to find a fleeting moment of inner peace, long enough to let his blood cool and heart slow in preperation for whatever storm lay ahead..

Kieran lowered himself to his knees, torso tall and upright, his abdominal muscles and diaphragm working together to fill his lungs repetitively. Each exhale sought to drive out the fear of what lay ahead. It was a pretty effective method for sure, tried and tested over time for him, and he relaxed considerably with each steady new influx of air.

Until a soft scraping noise echoed from the distance, pulling his attention back to the world around him. Then many more scuffed feet joined in to signal the orcs were coming back, and in greater numbers too.

Here we go…stay calm man, just breathe.

Compounding beats hammered louder to pick up the pace despite his wishes, each pulse filled his body with oxygenated blood, he listened to its rhythm as he inhaled more air. The air was clean and refreshing despite the various earthy and rancid smells it filled his senses with. Amidst all the peaceful breathing, he became aware of something else in the air, almost like he was inhaling something else too.

A strange warmth diffused deeper into his body with each inhale, this peculiar did not fade after the exhale however. His body slowly tingled all over as he exhaled another breath, his thoughts focused on the moving air.

Why do I feel so...strange? this isn't adrenaline, my heart is too calm.

The question wouldn't go away as the heat flowing into his chest intensified with each new pull of air that filled him with something he could not quite pinpoint.

It's just deep breathing yet all my senses feel so…crisp. This definitely isn't from adrenaline, it seems clearer and less jittery for sure.

So enraptured in the feeling of each breath and the buzzing energy building in his veins, Kieran failed to hear Darren scuffle to his feet. Nor did the clattering sound of a key turning in the large heavy door reach his ears.

With a crack and a shift in the air around him, his awareness yanked back to his surroundings and current predicament. Kieran opened his eyes just in time to see bright orange lights already haphazardly streaming into the dungeon, carried by short silhouettes.

One, two, three? He counted internally.

Shit, four Orcs? this is gonna be tough, but thank god there weren't more than that.

The Orc’s terrible hygiene brought various smells that gave away their presence and the front two that were the most visible angled straight towards Darren's position first. Kieran praised his good luck so far, thinking that the universe clearly wanted him to escape once his angry human bait tossed over the magic key.

The joy lasted long enough for his eyes to adapt to the considerably closer and glaring light of the cavern as well as the two short lumps of angry green muscle and grime that quickly approached him and not just his fellow inmate. The diminutive, hideous, and intimidating figures got within arms reach then loomed there silently looking over his calm kneeling form.

Crap, guess they sent us two each…yaaaaay

weeping internally he squinted at the guards carefully to see what they would do next.

The smooth peaceful clarity of his mind faded with the adrenaline finally kicking in harder with every shuffled scraping of boots the orcs took toward him, a rotting barnyard stench filled his weary nostrils more and more from each noisy grunt they expelled from their tusked, blackened mouths.

He finally got a good look at one to his right when the creature held its torch nice and low, giving a clearly lit view of its face up close and ugly. Kieran found them to be objectively hideous creatures.

Uugghh! they are ugly as hell

Trying not to let his disgust show too clearly, he scanned over the disturbingly full black pupil and sclera of the orc guard beside him, up close they looked like a low-budget version of their counterparts from Kieran's favourite MMORPG–only a lot smaller and far less burly.

Instead of the heroically brave and magnificent, towering tribal warriors of high fantasy, these stood half a head beneath Kieran, barely over five feet tall. Surprisingly however, they were just as wide as him and the broad shoulders that he was somewhat proud of, their poorly clothed bodies showed off plenty of thick muscle.

Okay how do we win this?

Maybe I can choke one out and steal its weapon? That's if I can out-maneuver it or the others get distracted, but not two together.

Kieran's strategic notions of cowardice were interrupted, the second orc he wasn't paying any attention to at all appeared from behind a blinding orb of flickering flame and pressed something long, dark, and pointy against his sternum with a soft but unwavering touch that froze him in place.

oh shit, they have swords too?

Looking down he saw a rusty black excuse of a blade hovering an inch away from his chest. The thick edges appeared more suited for hacking through wild bush than the finesse required in swordfighting. At this moment though it may as well have been an executioner's axe above his head.

He swallowed hard, not daring to move lest he trigger this seemingly mindless green oaf's aggression.

The other orc grunted from his right side, what Kieran heard didn't seem like speech but how would he know; having only ever truly known English throughout his life.

Kieran turned in time to see the orc draw a foot-long tar black rod of metal out from its belt and jab it into his shackled wrist, he tensed with anticipation then flinched his arm away on instinct but a sharp unfriendly prod to his chest made him remain still again.

"Don't you dare try probe me you ugly green fu-" A hard tapping sound he felt on his wrist interrupted his angry mumble and immediately his wrist lightened as the heavy shackle slid off his arm with a rattling thud to roll across the hard floor.

A deep sense of relief flooded Kieran's body, a huge pressure had been lifted from his heart and mind, but hollowness lingered in his freed arm.

That feels much better. What the hell was that crap made of? My arm feels kinda sore now too why did they even take it–

Before he could even remember the plan to grab the key rod, it was tucked back into the orc's belt. Kieran eyed it dejectedly as it vanished from sight and back behind the Orc's body. After freeing him, the same Orc began to walk away from him, off to his right…toward Darren? Kieran didn't risk turning his head enough to glimpse what was happening to his cellmate across the hall, what with the jagged tetanus vessel still poking against him ever so lightly in a warning.

Well, bollocks! so much for plan A, what happens now? He wondered nervously.

The orc with the meter-long rusted blade lowered his weapon away from Kieran as it turned, and also walked right past him toward Darren's direction.

phew, they actually left me alone? wait, what are they doing?

He finally saw what was happening almost twenty meters across from him.

Kieran watched as a short distance past the two orcs that had casually freed him, the other two Orcs leaned down toward Darren's hunched kneeling figure as he shouted profanities and slurs at them, refusing to them them touch his shackled arm for some reason.

Both of the Orcs had a torch and club in hand, but as they lowered them to get closer to him the large pig of a man capitalised on their mistake. He exploded to his feet with a hooligan's yell.

"Les fuckin ave it then you cunts!"

Darren jumped at the Orc closest to him first, and with a yell swung out a looping and overly telegraphed right hand that the flickering torchlight helped obscure.

The orc rag-dolled to the floor with a heavy impact-knocked out cold.

Darren was on him with a speedy fury that betrayed his previously hunched and injured whining form; he slammed its skull into the dirt three times within a second. The crunching sound rang out before the other Orc had even taken another step toward him.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

Do they not care or are they just that slow? Kieran wondered as he took a quick headcount ..four, now three? well bloody done, Darren.

If he could surprise the one with the sword he figured they may actually have a chance, especially if he had a weapon he was familiar with.

In that moment of rabit uncertainty, Kieran chose to stay and fight instead trying to run, he decided not to give in to please of his inner coward that only care for his own safety.

He had to fight.

Okay…shit let's do this!

Kieran stepped to his feet. slowly at first, in an attempt to stay unnoticed. He found himself painted in wriggling shadows and wavering darkness--all the torches near him had long since turned toward the noisy commotion across the large cave.

The orc with the sword was thankfully still closest to him, apparently lacking a sense of urgency. But confusingly to Kieran, the orcs hadn't even thought to watch their own backs after freeing him, so it became uncomfortably easy for Kieran to use the darkness to his advantage. Carefully yet quickly he caught up to the shuffling green lunk ahead.

Completely unnoticed, he snuck within six feet or so and his heart beat into his throat. He got ready to attack but suddenly he heard Darren yell out in agony from across the shortened distance.

"Aaaaaggghh fuck offa meeee cuuunt"

Kieran saw a chaotic mess of writhing bodies in the distance, Darren lay atop a bloodied wreck of an orcs head whilst another sweaty green monster was pulling at his arm with its sharp spikey tusks, Darren's free hand trying to choke its neck from the front to free himself whilst his mangled limb bled profusely all over them both.

Kieran stepped faster to make up the remaining distance, the sense of urgency reaching a crescendo as he got right up behind the Orc and took one last quiet step--the orc still oblivious--with a long wide lunge, he loaded his weight forward, and pounced with arms and legs outstretched like claws to latch around the body and neck of the Orc.

His momentous force caught the orc completely off guard as Kieran's arms wrapped around the thick neck and shoulders to bring his captor falling sideways with him in a heavy heap.

Sharp pain burned in his side as he landed on his ribs and shoulder, the extra weight of the confused Orc added to his impact on the unforgiving stone.

Remembering his training, Kieran scrambled his legs around the Orc’s chunky waist from behind, hooking tightly together in front with both feet. The crushing grip he locked together with all his legs strength restricted the orc's ability to create any distance from him or use its flailing arms effectively.

Both of his arms held on tightly in an over-under wrap known as the 'seatbelt position' as they called it in his Brazilian jiu-jitsu class. The orc's thick sausage hands tried to fight his hold and pry his grip apart so he let it and wrenched on the orc's bald sweaty head with one arm to create space around its neck. The sweaty smooth head left him no effective leverage point, however.

Three--not four?--Thick green sausage-like fingers and a thumb fought for a good grip on his arms as the orc angrily writhed in his grasp, far more physically capable than seemed normal for its smaller frame.

fuck this guy is strong what do they even feed them down here?

Another angry scream rang out from Darren as the orc finally dropped its torch and began rolling on the ground with him too, biting deeper into the man's meaty forearm.

Oh shit, guess they have a high-protein diet…

"Hold on man" he shouted out loud enough for Darren to hopefully hear.

Kieran fought to hold the orc tightly, sparing a glance across from him in time to see a shouting Darren roll over and begin to rain down hammer fists from above, one violent blow after another, as he screamed at the orc whilst he pummeled its feeble skull into the rock with wet resounding thumps.

Kieran knew he was taking too long as he sparred a glance at Darren's struggle, his hands still unable to find purchase around the Orcs wide neck muscles, he pulled his hand back as he felt tusks catch on his sleeve, trying to bite his flesh again.

The near miss made him chastise himself mentally as he swallowed his pride and accepted he had to do whatever it took to win

"Anything goes once you try to bite me motherfucker!"

He grimaced in determination, reached his fingers across the orc's slippery forehead, and resisted its grasping hands again, this time finding solid purchase in two soft squidgy balls.

pliable orbs that he now dug his index fingers into with a ruthless motion. The orc in his grasp howled an awful guttural sound as it bucked and writhed–he clawed deeper still until with a cringe he felt his fingers break through at once with a popping squelch.

The orc howled and undulated in his grasp causing him to naturally tighten his thighs grasp even more to remain secure, he felt like a damned rodeo rider as he held on for dear life, pulling on the skull where his fingers now hooked the inside of it's orbital bones. This wasn't the first time he'd had to control someone strong from the back, since he always felt more secure grappling people than fighting with punches and kicks, it was however the first time he'd ever gouged out anything's eyes with his fingers or otherwise.

He'd trapped the orc well enough, and with an agonising yell the creature retaliated, smashing its dense rock-like skull backward and right into Kieran face.

Bright dots filled his vision for a couple of seconds as his world spun and his forehead burned with pain.

The fog and flashing dots cleared quickly, but he noticed he’d already lost his grip on the orc and felt it leave his unresponsive legs to roll away from him.

He tried to reach with his feet to pull it back towards him but the orc was already gone, rolling on the floor holding its ruined eyes and still squealing and shouting out in pain.

Ignoring the awful burn that flared from his forehead, Kieran clambered to his unsteady knees but as he moved his feet under him, he felt something heavy and thin scrape across his jeans as he pulled his leg back. The object hit the floor with a metallic clatter.

What the? Shit, the sword? hell yes!

He lunged down without wasting a moment.

The viscous, slippery blood plastered on his right hand barely impeded him as he scrambled to grab the rough string-wrapped handle.

Thankfully the edge of the rusty slab wasn't very sharp or he would have likely sliced his hand whilst fumbling across the dark outline in the dimmer and more erratic torchlight.

His grip tightened around the handle securely then he quickly rushed up from his scuffed knees.

Kieran ignored the pathetic croaky screams from the blind and defenseless orc that was still shaking and rolling in place. in the flickering torchlight he could see blood flow heavily through its thick stubby hands as they tried to cover its ruined sockets.

Looking away from the cruel but effective injury he'd casually inflicted on his foe and to the new weapon he held firmly in both hands now, he took a clearer look at his new source of potential safety.

It was an old piece of metal, about the length of his arm at most. It bore a patchy coat of rust that ruined any metallic shine the aged metal may have once possessed.

A sturdy beveled edge with numerous chips ran down both sides, from the guardless handle to the slightly lopsided taper of the tip. It was quite heavy in his hand, far more weighty than the light modern steel practice blades he'd used in the HEMA classes he'd been to, falling instead somewhere between a Roman gladius and a long machete, discoloured and chipped by many years of wear and tear.

Kieran had been interested in many types of swords throughout his life, from old naive fantasies of wielding a blade against monsters to 'protect the innocent', Inspired further by various movie scenes of bladesmithing such as the reforging of the 'shards of Narsil' or the magical forging of 'Brisingr' he had read many many times as a child. The growing love of the idea of blade crafting deepened further still with his avid consumption of East Asian fantasy.

A younger, more nerdy Kieran could never have fathomed he one day might be facing down a real-life Orc in a real-life dungeon, only with a rusty old shortsword and an abusive hooligan for a companion instead of a magical legendary blade and shield-bearing royal knights.

The junkyard-worthy sword sat quite comfortably in his hands, his arms moved through the air to grasp its rough feel, like any good weeb would do–distracting him a little too long from his surroundings than he realised. A hard knock into his ankle jolted him from his tunnel vision. and a peculiar feeling of acceptance sparked in him as he looked down at the fucked up orc that had kicked into him accidentally in it's continued agonising flailing. Kieran knew that he absolutely had to put it down with this new weapon, if he wanted to keep his life and freedom, not to mention get to Darren before the orcs hurt him anymore.

It's them, or me. I can't hesitate…

The cold acceptance he knew in his mind to be morally sound enough for now allowed him to swallow down the bile he tasted and take a firm resolute grip on what now became 'his' sword.

He lifted the weapon high and then brought it down in a snappy, violent hack of an executioner's chop, he knew he'd swung the weapon poorly as it hit, the blade's angle slightly off, and the motion of his arms too stiff in his aggression.

Nonetheless, blood splashed over his feet as the weapon bit halfway into the front of the orc's neck, not quite severing the spinal column all the way but definitely a fatal wound.

A solid shock ran through his palms and up his forearms as the edge dug resoundingly into bone and the orc's life quickly faded over the next few seconds. Kieran spared it one last glance, not wanting to watch any longer lest the guilt swelling in his chest take greater purchase. He tugged with both hands, then yanked again harder to free the sword from the thick neck of the first truly living creature he'd ever killed. Bugs didn't count, he would never feel anything for those creepy little fucks.

Blood had squirted all over the front of his jeans and Kieran tried to refocus through the cold chill that crept in his heart, numbing him from the sadness.

Fuck, I had to–Just Breathe, then move, I need to end this shit already.

Tearing his eyes away from the splatters across his legs he quickly surveyed the other half of the wild melee that had been playing out across from him. He saw Darren across from him still alive, but fear gripped Kieran the next moment.

"Watch out! behind you Darren!" Kieran shouted quickly, voice full of panic. But it was already too late, the injured man looked back from his gory fight for survival just in time to see the club of the approaching third orc swing down towards his upturned face….

Then the man saw nothing, his destroyed skull hit the ground with a wet thud.

it got him?…oh fuck it killed him!

Kieran felt sick as the sound reverberated across to him from a short distance, he had changed his mind about cowardly ditching Darren when he watched the stupidly brave bastard boldly move to salvage their plan of escape, now Kieran's temporary hesitation still cost the man his life.

Kieran knew the blame was partly his, but at the same time rationalised the guilt away as he confronted a blood-covered orc staring back at him with those awful, dull, black eyes.

All Kieran could think to do now was to finish this before any more turned up from the noise they'd been making, he didn't know if he could manage a straight fight but he'd damn sure try.

He'd had practice fights against spears and Mace's before, they were made of foam and plastic of course but the principles were the same. Move light and fast, bait them to miss and overextend, then capitalise on the opening.

He squeezed his grip on the wet string handle, conscious of the lack of crossguard, then relaxed his fingers and loosened his grip slightly as he remembered his stupidly awkward chop moments before. The significant weight of his sword pulled his arm lightly forward, almost like a gentle hand showing him where to go next, leading the way for him.

He followed.

With just enough handle room for his other hand to fit, the machete ledt he way effortlessly through the air and his feet slapped the floor to keep up. The blade felt lighter by the second, his strength more than enough to move the rough blade much faster than the big chunk of gnarled wood the orc held.

Not understanding where his confidence came from at all, he still knew with a clear certainty in his heart that he could do this, he just had to give his all.

Ive got this! He rationalised as he continued to rush forward across the stony ground.

Quick steps, quick cuts, and don't fucking stand still when it swings for you!

The orc hadn't seemed to care about his approach, If it had even noticed the threat he bore. Apparently, the creature concerned itself more with picking white shards of skull out of its club whilst glaring emptily at the next human it would be killing.

Kieran's vision narrowed, too focused to fully take in the macabre scene of his fellow prisoners' gory remains beside his new target. One-mindedly staring at the last enemy in his way. He only felt the weapon in his hands and the soft breeze against his face and arms as he picked up speed with each step, shoes slapped noisily on the hard uneven floor and he was careful not to lose his footing.

The idea of where he should attack first guided him, he lifted his arms in a rigid arc high above his right shoulder.

The Orc just looked at him absent-mindedly, dull black eyes not seeming to move until he reached within six feet, if it wasn't going to attack him first then he wouldn't wait to counter, maybe he caught it by surprise? if so then now was the time to go for the kill and be done with it.

He stepped forward heavily with his right foot, letting his torso lean forward with his momentum then turned his hips sharply, he pulled his arms down in a blazing whip of deathly intent.

The old relic of a sword sang through the air with minimal resistance as it cut down and met dark green flesh. Kieran's arms vibrated strongly from the impact then twisted slightly as the blade flew down diagonally, almost entirely unimpeded by the orc's hard skull. The weapon's descent slowed to a stop in Kieran's grasp, his muscles haultedthe remaining momentum of the cut–Ready to swing back again in a wild upward slash as he worried that he'd just missed his target.

The angry and hideous face of the orc disturbed him as he pulled the blade back up, intent not to miss again. Instead, he found the Orc just staring still, except it was now missing an angled section of its skull, and brain with it. seemingly dead on its feet.

Oh, I got it!

The orc's dull black eyes faded back to white in an eerie display of mysterious magic. Then with a loud meaty thud, the orc collapsed in a limp heap at his feet, spraying warm blood into the air that painted Kieran lower body as he tried to catch his breath.

I–I did it? in one hit too? Holy crap!

Kieran almost gloated to himself in celebration of victory and especially the joy of 'not fucking dying' but when he turned down to his left, his chest lurched violently to dispel any sense of relief and pride he'd been about to bath in.

"Fuck…I'm sorry, dude…"

He'd taken too long, been too hesitant and distracted by each small success, and now the only other person to help him was dead.

Darren was gross and violent, Kieran reminded himself somberly. He even pulled a fucking knife on us! but still, he was a brave bastard...i dunno if i'd have won without him.

He didn't care for the guy or even want to know a thing about him, but he still let the shame prickle at his gut as he knew he was at least partly responsible.

Trading guilt for anger wasn't a great idea–Kieran knew this, yet just didn't care right now, his shoes tapped on the dirt, gentle steps that betrayed his savage intent inside as he slowly walked back toward the other orc Darren had half beaten to death.

He lined the edge of his weapon up with the bloodied neck, making sure it was aligned perfectly straight this time he let his anger out in a short yell and lifted the weapon up high. Kieran swung down smoothly, extending both arms fluidly, no hesitation this time.

Dark blood sprayed up at him, with a quick hopping step he dodged backward just in time to avoid the arterial bleed that spurted free. splattered droplets clung to the skin on his hand as the last Orc was finally put to death. its already gruesome face was covered in blood, frozen in agony, as the whole head remained connected to the neck by a mere flap of meat. Kieran let out a sigh of relief, curious as the black eyes faded to pale white with no pupil, truly void of anything.

"Huh, that's weird" he paused briefly before turning to look around at everything around him, the carnage that had played out seemed so surreal.

At last, it's done. And we pulled it off against four of the scary little shits too.

GG 2v4 EZ! he mused with dark humour.

But then his face morphed to a confused frown, stomach rumbled--uniquely. Suddenly he violently hunched forward and began to expel his stomach contents all over the dead orc at his feet.

His throat burned and his lung stung from the lack of breath as his abdominals seized ruthlessly, determined to dredge up every last drop of fruity bile left inside.

"Uuuggghhh fuuuuu–" he groaned and spat the acidic aftertaste of bile out.

There goes the peach rum…