In a dimly lit hut that looked like it could collapse at any moment, a man reclined in a worn chair, hands behind his head, his eyes closed. He seemed relaxed, a stark contrast to the turmoil outside. Abruptly, his comm device issued a shrill alert, shattering the fragile quiet. His eyes snapped open, narrowing as his face darkened upon reading the incoming message.
Without hesitation, he sprang from the chair, grabbing his gear and sprinting to his car. The urgency in the message left no room for delay. The engine roared to life, and he tore down the road, heading toward Blackcrest. The initial tension coiled tight within him, but as he raced against time, irritation began to bubble beneath the surface. Why was I called so late? Could this mess have been avoided? He thought bitterly, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly.
Barely twenty minutes into the drive, another message appeared on his screen. His jaw clenched, and his pulse quickened as he read the update. It left no doubt about the gravity of the situation:
(Emergency Mission:
Twelve agents were dispatched to contain a level one dungeon outbreak, but it was more overwhelming than anticipated. Reinforcements are needed immediately.)
(Update:
The appointed leader, Liam, lost contact. Unknown number of casualties. The last transmission read: "The defense broke; the military is out of rockets. We’re on the brink of being wiped out.")
He slammed his fist against the dashboard, frustration mingling with urgency. "Damn it," he hissed under his breath. Flicking a switch on the dashboard, he activated a special feature in his customized car. It came with a steep price—overloading the engine meant the vehicle might be unsalvageable after this mission—but time was not a luxury he could afford. A surge of power coursed through the car as the modified engine roared, propelling him forward at breakneck speed.
Every second felt like a lifetime as the man’s mind raced alongside the car. Thoughts of the fallen agents, the looming threat, and the failure to respond sooner gnawed at him. This better not be too late, he thought grimly, his irritation giving way to a steely resolve. The faint glow of desperate soldiers fighting and the ruins of a town appeared on the horizon, and he pressed the accelerator harder.
…………………………………………………..
Meanwhile, the last minute of John's talent, Insanity-Check effect two, started to tick down. Every breath felt like hard labor. His body, riddled with holes and injuries, strained against the weight of survival. Every part of him struggled not to give up, even in the final moments, as he desperately searched for a way out.
A small goblin leapt at him from behind as the goblin leader swung its halberd in a lethal arc.
"Get the heck away from me!" John shouted, leaping away from the strike. Twisting with a burst of defiance, he delivered a flying kick to the small goblin, sending it hurtling toward the goblin leader. The halberd came crashing down, obliterating the smaller goblin with ruthless precision.
The goblin leader whirled its halberd in a deadly arc. As John jumped back to evade, the weapon struck him, sending him flying, crashing into a ruined house. His strength waned, his perception dulled, and all sounds around him became muffled. Then, like a train at full speed, the suppressed pain erupted through his body with its full force. His talent—Insanity-Check effect two—had ended, taking with it his enhanced attributes and leaving him vulnerable.
Strength: 18 –> 10 Agility: 16 –> 8 Flexibility: 15.5 –> 7.5 Vitality: 17.5 –> 9.5 Intelligence: 17 –> 9
"Aghaaa!"
Pain!
Excruciating pain!
All he could feel was pain, and he couldn't even writhe despite the unbearable agony!
He couldn’t even lift a finger. His wounds, now raw and unchecked, sent relentless signals of pain to his brain, overwhelming him. He fought to stay conscious, to move, to survive, but his battered body refused to obey.
Barely able to move his eyes, he saw the goblin leader gesture to halt the smaller goblins. Slowly, it began to approach him, each step deliberate, each step closer to the end.
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Every thudding step felt like a countdown to his demise. His mind raced, desperate for a plan—any plan—but even the basic action of moving a finger was beyond him. The grim reality clawed at his thoughts.
‘Move! Move, goddamn it!... Please move!’
Despair…Utter despair clawed at John's heart. His life hung by a thread, and the goblin leader was moments from severing it.
Suddenly, a deafening roar swept across the battlefield, followed by an intense gust of wind that flattened the grass and sent smaller goblins tumbling like ragdolls. The foundation agent had arrived.
With a flick of his hand, the air shimmered, condensing into razor-thin blades that hurtled through the horde. Goblins disintegrated where they stood, sliced apart before they could react. The goblin leader turned, its crimson eyes narrowing as it braced itself.
The goblin leader lunged forward, halberd raised high. The agent didn’t flinch. He extended his hand, and a concentrated blast of compressed air struck the goblin leader square in the chest, shattering its armor and sending it crashing into the rubble.
The agent waved his hands left and right, sending a sharp wind dismembering and decapitating any goblin in its way. The agent showed no mercy. He raised both arms, summoning a whirlwind that swept across the battlefield, lifting the remaining goblins into the air and tearing them apart in a storm of devastation.
The goblin leader struggled to rise, its broken armor sparking feebly. With a final gesture, the agent unleashed a sharp gust of wind that pierced the creature’s chest and came out from its back with its heart minced together with the rest of its chest. It didn’t even have the time to let out one last roar before collapsing, lifeless.
From where John lay, barely conscious, he watched the scene unfold with awe and bitterness. His heart twisted as he saw the being he had struggled against for what felt like hours crumble in mere seconds. He watched the agent dismantle the goblin leader and its horde with a chilling ease. Bitterness gnawed at the edges of his thoughts, a stark contrast to the relief he should have felt.
'Hours of struggling, of barely clinging to life, and he... he just walks in and ends it.' His chest tightened, a mix of frustration and relief bubbling within him.
‘So this is the difference between us,’ he thought. But then the exhaustion returned, washing over his emotions like a cold tide. His bitterness faded into a quiet acceptance. He couldn't muster the strength to feel anything more than gratitude for simply being alive.
The agent walked through the ruined town. It couldn’t be called town anymore; just the word ‘ruin’ was enough to describe it. The corpses of goblins and other monsters strewn across the ground, the remains of walls and vehicles scorched by the earlier bombardment. Smoke curled into the sky, and the stench of blood and burnt flesh was unbearable.
It took about five to ten minutes for the agent to purge the place from the monsters. The agent could’ve taken less time, but he wanted to make sure that no fish had slipped through the net. The agent strode to John, who lay barely conscious amidst the wreckage. With swift movements, he administered an emergency shot to stabilize him. "Stay with me," he said firmly, before moving away.
John felt a kind of warm current moving through his body after the shot, making the paint a little bearable. He stared at the sky for a few seconds before the agent’s voice reached him again.
"This is Agent Zephyrin. The area is secure. There are only three agents alive, critically injured. And hundreds of casualties on the military side. Send emergency vehicles, ambulances, and a healer unit immediately. I’m entering the dungeon gate.”
Zephyrin turned back to the battered battlefield, sparing a glance at the destruction around him. Then he took a fast stride to the dungeon gate, disappearing inside it. Ten minutes later, he emerged from the dungeon gate, his combat suit bloodied but his expression calm. Behind him, the gate shimmered briefly before destabilizing, then vanishing entirely.
Zephyrin leaned against the rock, scanning the smoldering battlefield one last time before closing his eyes. His steady breaths were a stark contrast to the chaos just moments before. As calm settled over the area, John felt the faint stirrings of his talent reawakening, signaling the first step toward recovery.
Strength: 10 –> 13 Agility: 8 –> 11 Flexibility: :7.5 –> 10.5 Vitality: 9.5 –> 12.5 Intelligence: 9 –> 12
John then shifted his attributed to vitality as he just stared at the sky the whole time; he did not think or try to think of anything. He just laid where he was.
Vitality: 12.5 –> 17.5
A while later, BMI vehicles arrived in force, their sirens cutting through the grim silence. Personnel poured out of the trucks, their faces a mixture of shock and horror. Medics froze momentarily as they surveyed the carnage, their expressions tightening before they rushed into action. Engineers and planners fanned out, stepping over shattered weapons and charred bodies, while murmurs of disbelief passed between them as they assessed the destruction. Engineers, planners, and medics began assessing the damage, gathering the fallen, and tending to the survivors.
“Agent John, hang on! We will be taking you to the BMI special care section. You will be good as new in no time." One of the medics said to John before shouted some command as they put him into an ambulance. John finally let his guard down as he fainted due to his injuries. Unaware of what happened next.