Jimmy shoved himself off the frozen ground, brushing off snow and whatever dignity he had left. His katana hung awkwardly at his side, as if it, too, was questioning his survival strategy. Without much ceremony, he started trudging toward the dungeon’s entrance—a jagged black hole in the frost-bitten earth, gaping like the world’s worst welcome mat.

The Gloomshade Warrens didn’t exactly scream “five-star adventure.” The air smelled faintly of rot and the kind of damp that suggested no one had bothered with pest control in centuries. The cave walls, slick with some mysterious ooze, gleamed under patches of bioluminescent fungi clinging to the rocks. It was unsettling, but also a little insulting—like the dungeon had spruced up just enough to be creepy without actually being impressive.

As he stepped inside, the temperature dropped further, and the faint crunch of snow gave way to the sticky squelch of wet stone. The tunnel narrowed quickly, forcing him to hunch as he moved deeper. He could feel the weight of the place settling on him, a kind of oppressive stillness that was less “ancient mystique” and more “you probably shouldn’t be here.”

And then, the goblin arrived.

It skittered into view from around a corner, small and wiry, with teeth that looked like it had been gnawing on rocks for sport. In one hand, it held a dagger—if you could call a piece of jagged metal tied to a stick a dagger. The creature snarled, puffing itself up to appear intimidating, though it mostly just looked like a very angry rat on its hind legs.

Jimmy sighed. Of course. The first enemy was a goblin. Classic dungeon etiquette.

The goblin wasted no time, lunging at him with an enthusiasm that far outpaced its skill. Jimmy sidestepped, his katana coming down in a clean arc. The goblin hit the ground with a shriek, its theatrics ending in a limp sprawl that suggested it had taken its role as cannon fodder very seriously.

But, as these things go, goblins rarely traveled alone.

The shriek echoed off the walls, bouncing around like a bad karaoke performance, and soon enough, the backup arrived. Three more goblins scuttled into view, each looking slightly more ridiculous than the last. One wielded a spear that was at least two feet taller than itself, another brandished a rusty sword that was somehow more tetanus than steel, and the third? Bare claws, like it had decided that dental hygiene was a waste of time and effort.

They paused for a moment, as if considering some kind of strategy. Then, realizing they were goblins and strategy wasn’t in the job description, they attacked all at once.

Jimmy barely had time to raise his katana before Spear Goblin lunged, jabbing its weapon forward with the precision of someone who had clearly never practiced. The spear scraped against the edge of his blade, sending a vibration up Jimmy’s arm. He shoved the creature back, spinning just in time to see Rusty Sword Goblin charging at him like it had nothing to lose—which, to be fair, it didn’t.

The sword came in low, scraping the floor as it swung, and Jimmy leapt back to avoid what he was almost certain was an instant tetanus shot. Meanwhile, Claw Goblin darted in from the side, all gangly limbs and frenetic energy. Its claws swiped at his coat, leaving a series of shallow tears in the fabric.

“Perfect,” Jimmy muttered, slashing at the goblin in retaliation. The blade caught it mid-swipe, sending it sprawling to the ground in a heap of flailing limbs. It twitched dramatically for a moment, then went still, as if realizing it wasn’t getting paid enough for this.

That left Spear Goblin and Rusty Sword Goblin. The former jabbed at him again, this time managing to graze his arm. It wasn’t much, but it stung enough to remind Jimmy that goblins were still technically dangerous, despite looking like the result of a bad arts-and-crafts project.

Rusty Sword Goblin seized the opening, swinging its blade with an enthusiasm that would’ve been endearing if it weren’t trying to kill him. Jimmy blocked the strike, the clash of steel ringing out as he shoved the goblin back. He followed up with a quick slash, catching it across the chest. Rusty Sword Goblin went down with a gurgle, its weapon clattering to the ground.

Spear Goblin hesitated, its glowing red eyes darting between Jimmy and the two fallen goblins. For a moment, it seemed to reconsider its life choices. Then, with a high-pitched shriek that echoed like a toddler throwing a tantrum, it turned tail and ran back down the tunnel.

Jimmy wiped the blood from his katana, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His coat was torn, his arm was stinging, and his patience for goblins was officially at zero. He glanced at the two goblins he’d taken down, noting their crude, patchwork clothes and bizarre assortment of weapons. It was like someone had thrown a yard sale in the middle of a medieval nightmare.

“Well,” he muttered, stepping over the bodies, “if these guys are the warm-up act, I can’t wait to meet the main event.”

Adjusting his grip on the katana, he pressed forward, deeper into the gloom. Whatever was waiting in the Warrens, he wasn’t about to turn back now. If nothing else, this dungeon was at least giving him one thing: the undeniable satisfaction of cutting down a few more glorified Halloween props.

The second floor was an entirely different beast.

As Jimmy descended deeper into the dungeon, the narrow tunnels gave way to a massive cavern lit by the unsettling glow of sickly green crystals jutting from the walls. Their light pooled in uneven patches, casting warped shadows that seemed to writhe with a life of their own. The air felt dense, heavy enough to press against his chest. Every breath carried the faint, metallic tang of something unnatural. This wasn’t just a deeper level of a dungeon—it felt like a place where the rules of the world itself had started to twist.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

The cavern stretched wide before him, but his attention was immediately drawn to the far end. There, perched like it owned the place, was a goblin shaman. Its gnarled staff crackled with the same green energy that pulsed through the crystals, casting an eerie glow on its hunched frame. Flanking the shaman were a handful of goblin guards, each more heavily armed than the ones Jimmy had encountered above.

Jimmy’s grip tightened around his katana as the shaman’s glowing eyes locked onto him. A chill slid down his spine. This wasn’t just another goblin. This thing radiated something colder, sharper—an intelligence that didn’t belong in something so… goblin-shaped.

“Oh, so you’re the boss,” Jimmy muttered, squaring his stance. “What’s your name? Chief Overbite? Lord of Questionable Hygiene?”

The shaman responded with a raspy cackle that echoed through the cavern, its staff raised high as it began to chant. The sound was jagged, harsh, like shards of glass grinding together. Jimmy barely had time to steel himself before the guards charged, their glowing eyes fixed on him with unnerving focus.

The first goblin lunged, swinging a jagged axe that looked more rust than metal. Jimmy sidestepped, bringing his katana down in a quick slash that cut the creature cleanly across the chest. It crumpled to the ground with a dull thud, but the others didn’t even flinch. They pressed forward with mechanical determination, their weapons flashing in the sickly green light.

Jimmy’s blade moved in a blur, slashing and deflecting, each strike leaving him more winded than the last. The goblins didn’t move like the ones he’d fought before—they were faster, more coordinated, and entirely unbothered by their comrades falling around them. One of them swung a spiked club, its sheer force rattling up his arms as he blocked. Another jabbed with a spear, the point skimming his side and tearing into his coat.

By the time he cut down the last of them, his breathing was ragged, his body screaming for rest. His health bar blinked angrily in the corner of his vision, down to 30%. The shaman, untouched and unmoved, watched him with a twisted grin. Its staff pulsed, green light swirling as it resumed its chant. The sound seemed to thrum in his skull, like nails being driven into his thoughts.

Jimmy gritted his teeth, forcing himself to his feet. He couldn’t afford to wait. His katana felt heavier than ever in his grip, but he raised it anyway, charging toward the shaman with everything he had left.

The shaman’s chant reached a crescendo, the light from its staff building into a blinding flare. It swung the staff toward him in a sharp arc, the air crackling with energy. Jimmy had no time to think, only to act—and then it happened.

A pulse of energy surged from somewhere deep within him, raw and unfamiliar but undeniably his. The world around him slowed, the green light trailing in slow-motion arcs as the shaman’s strike inched closer. Every detail sharpened: the jagged bark of the staff, the shaman’s gnarled fingers, the way its mouth twisted mid-chant.

He saw it all. And in that moment, he moved.

Jimmy twisted to the side, the staff brushing past him so close he could feel the static in the air. His katana followed in one fluid motion, the blade cutting through the shaman’s neck with a clean, brutal precision. The creature’s head toppled, its final chant dying on its lips as its body collapsed in a heap.

For a moment, the cavern was silent except for the sound of Jimmy’s labored breathing. Then, a familiar blue glow flickered in his vision.

System Notification:

Level Up! You have reached Level 9.

Warm energy flooded through him, dulling the pain in his muscles and sealing his wounds. Jimmy swayed, his katana slack in his grip as the weight of the fight finally lifted. The glow of the shaman’s staff faded, leaving the cavern dim and quiet once more.

He opened his Status screen, eyes scanning the updated information.

Status: Jimmy Holloway

Level: 9

Title: Pioneer of the Blade

Class: Blade Disciple

Core: [E] Core (Earth, Tier 1)

Core Progression: 20% (toward Tier 2)

Core Stats:

Strength: 24

Dexterity: 31

Intelligence: 9

Vitality: 28

Skills:

* Empowered Aura (Passive): Each strike carries additional force, boosting physical attack damage.

* Vehemence (Active): Channels strength into a powerful strike, dealing a burst of forceful damage. High cooldown.

The Core entry caught his eye. He could still feel it, faint but present, like a quiet hum in the back of his mind. Whatever had happened during the fight, the System had noticed, and now it was part of him.

“Alright,” Jimmy muttered, sliding his katana back into its sheath. “Guess this Core thing is sticking around.”

A new notification popped up, breaking his thoughts.

System Notification:

New Skill Acquired—Basic Attack Lv 1.

Jimmy blinked. “Basic attack? Isn’t that just… swinging my sword?”

Basic Attack Lv 1

Congratulations! You’ve unlocked the prestigious art of… swinging your sword like you mean it. Every basic attack is now a “cut above,” powered by a dash of Core energy. Hone this skill to take your slashing from “meh” to “legendary”—because if you’re going to swing, you might as well do it with style.

Jimmy snorted, shaking his head. “Sure. Swinging with style. That’s what’s been missing.”

Another notification blinked across his vision.

System Notification:

Dungeon Cleared—The Gloomshade Warrens. 150 Essence awarded.

Jimmy sighed, the tension in his shoulders easing as the dungeon acknowledged his victory. He glanced around the cavern, spotting a faint glow near the shaman’s crumpled body. A treasure chest sat half-hidden behind jagged rocks, its lid slightly ajar.

“Treasure chest,” Jimmy muttered, trudging toward it. “Because of course there’s a loot box. What am I, in a gacha game?”

The chest contained a small vial and a thick cloth.

Blade Oil

A repair oil for maintaining and sharpening weapon edges. Restores blade durability, enhancing strike precision and power.

Jimmy worked the oil into his katana’s blade, watching as it gleamed like new. Satisfied, he sheathed it and turned back to the cavern. His map had updated, showing a bridge leading out of Frostwood Grove and into the next zone: The Shiverwind Glade.

The name alone made him shiver, but he wasn’t about to stop now. With his katana sharp, his Core humming faintly, and his legs ready to take him further, Jimmy set off toward the bridge, leaving the eerie green glow of the Warrens behind.