Damien Ardent.
His life had never been hard, nor had it ever been easy. It was as average as one could imagine—so painfully ordinary that even his death carried the same flavor of mediocrity.
A truck, a crosswalk, a routine morning on the way to work. No dramatic last words, no heroic sacrifice. Just the screech of tires, the crash of metal, and silence.
He didn't resist when death came. He simply accepted it.
The funeral was no different. Sad parents, grieving friends, a few coworkers in attendance. Damien hadn't been lonely in life, but he had always kept to himself. The kind of man who carried himself with a quiet air, who rarely spoke unless necessary. That detached nature, oddly enough, made him… intriguing.
Many of the women in his office admired him from afar. Some thought he was gay, others assumed he was simply cold. The truth?
"I just haven't met a girl worthy yet."
That had been his answer when pressed by a close friend. The women didn't take it well.
And so, Damien Ardent died. Alone. Or so he believed.
Because even in death… there was no rest.
When his eyes opened again, the first thing he saw was not the cold emptiness of the afterlife, but the swaying canopy of towering trees. A thick jungle stretched around him, unfamiliar and alive.
"…What the fuck?"
He sat up, groggy, brushing dirt and leaves from his clothes.
"I wasn't drunk last night… didn't touch weed or any of that nasty shit. So why the hell do I feel like I died?" His thoughts scrambled for an answer. Then, a flash of memory—the truck. The impact.
"Oh wait. I did die, didn't I? Or did I?" He rubbed his face. "Shit, I'm alive? Was that all a dream?"
With a frustrated sigh, Damien rose to his feet. His sharp gray eyes scanned the wilderness, wary but calm.
"Well… no use standing around. First thing's first—I've got to figure out where the hell I am."
And with that, Damien stepped forward, unaware that his new life had already begun.
...
Damien walked and walked, hoping to stumble upon a road. Maybe flag down a driver, hitch a ride, and laugh about this weird dream later.
But no road appeared. No cars. Nothing.
"The fuck am I, in the Amazon?" he muttered, shoving a branch aside. "Sheesh… where did I even end up? Fuck me."
That was when he heard it—rustling in the bushes.
Damien froze. His instincts screamed at him, and without hesitation, he slipped into the undergrowth to hide.
'Nope. Not falling for that shit. This is way too cliché. It's gotta be a bear. Or a cougar. Yeah, and now that I think about it… wouldn't they smell me?'
The realization came too late.
The bush parted, and something stepped out.
Damien's eyes widened. It wasn't a bear. It wasn't even an animal.
It was a small, green creature, barely four feet tall, with a twisted face, rags clinging to its legs, and a crude club clutched in its hand.
"…The fuck."
His brain short-circuited.
'No. No way. I definitely smoked something nasty. What the hell is that supposed to be? A… goblin? A fucking goblin?!'
For a wild moment, he even thought of Richie—his old drinking buddy. 'That bastard slipped something in my drink, didn't he? Ain't no way I'm seeing a goblin right now!'
But the goblin's growl, low and hungry, shattered all excuses. Its yellow eyes locked on him.
Damien backed away, hands raised. "Okay, now… let's not do anything we'll regret…"
The goblin lunged, swinging its club at his head.
Damien's reflexes kicked in—he dodged left, shoving the creature aside. For a second, he thought he was safe. But goblins were monsters bred to fight humans. The club whipped back in a brutal arc, smashing across Damien's face.
Stars exploded in his vision. His legs wobbled. The world tilted.
And in that dizzy haze, the truth hit him like a second blow.
This wasn't a hallucination. This wasn't a dream.
This thing was real. This goblin wanted him dead.
The goblin roared, raising its club for the killing blow.
Adrenaline flooded Damien's body. He rolled desperately across the dirt, the club smashing down where his skull had been a second before. Gritting his teeth, Damien lashed out with a wild kick that caught the goblin square in the chest.
The monster screeched as it was flung backward, crashing into the ground. Its club tumbled from its grasp.
Damien bolted for it.
He didn't make it.
The goblin launched itself at him like a feral dog, its claws digging into his arm, its jaws snapping. Damien's scream tore through the forest as jagged teeth ripped a chunk out of his shoulder.
"AGHHHHHHHHH!"
The goblin bit down harder, tearing flesh free. Blood gushed hot down his chest.
Pure panic seized Damien, but survival instinct roared louder. His left hand closed around the fallen club. With a desperate cry, he swung.
Crack!
The blow smashed into the goblin's temple, sending it tumbling off him. It swallowed the flesh it had taken as it scrambled upright, snarling, blood dripping from its lips.
Damien's vision blurred. His body screamed in pain. But something deeper than reason took hold—rage.
"DAMN YOU—DIE!"
He charged. The club came down again. And again. And again.
Each impact echoed with wet, sickening crunches. The goblin shrieked once, twice… then silence. Its skull collapsed under the relentless strikes until it was nothing but paste splattered across the dirt.
Panting heavily, Damien stumbled back, collapsing onto the ground. His body shook violently.
"I'm… bleeding too much… I'm… gonna…" His chest heaved, his mind clouding.
He expected darkness to take him.
Instead, a strange warmth surged through his veins. His ragged breathing steadied. The pain ebbed. The torn flesh of his shoulder knitted together, muscle and skin reforming before his stunned eyes.
In moments, he was whole again.
"What the…" Damien touched the spot where a chunk of him had been torn away. Smooth. Unscarred.
And then—
A faint chime echoed in the air.
A glowing window appeared before his eyes, filled with letters of light.
[Congratulations. You have Leveled Up!]