I had been humiliated.By three goblins the size of children, each holding rusty knives.And I… had been afraid.The thought hit my stomach like a punch.A rage flared within me—against myself, against this situation, against the world.Humiliation...It was the one feeling I hated the most throughout my life.I clenched my teeth to keep from losing control, but my mind dragged me into the past.I remembered why I had started sports in the first place.Seven years ago…
It must have been the beginning of middle school.Those were hard years.So bad, in fact, that part of my brain didn't even want to remember them.But their impact, their trauma, still lived in my body.I was alone back then too.Quiet, always staying in corners, never getting too close to anyone.I had a group of friends, sure—but I always felt like a stranger.The real me only came out when I was alone.Around people, I became someone else—a shadow that adapted, but never truly belonged.
And one day…I was just trying to get to the bathroom.I bumped into someone in the crowded hallway.The school's bully: Mark.Everyone feared him.It was just a brush of the shoulder.I even apologized—but it wasn't enough.He threw me down in front of everyone.Punches, kicks… humiliation.Everyone watched.No one stepped in.Some even laughed.
That day, I took the first blow of my life.Both physically and emotionally.And I realized I could never be the same again.I couldn't take it—I fought back.I swung my fists, as if vomiting up all my pain.At the end of the day, both of our parents were called to the school.I thought, "There will be a fair outcome."But real life isn't like a game.Mark was the son of the deputy governor.Even though the teachers knew about his bullying, they ignored it.My parents were the ones who apologized.
That day, I made a decision.No one would ever crush me again.No matter how alone I was, I would at least be strong.That's why I clung to schoolwork and sports.I learned to endure physical pain, to suppress emotional wounds.And eventually, I ended up here.Facing bullies once more—but this time, wearing goblin skin.
As I stared at the goblins, my anger started slipping out of control.Something surged in my chest—burning, sharp, a long-restrained rage.And suddenly… their faces changed.The three creatures before me suddenly transformed into someone else: Mark.
I blinked, but the image held.That sneering face, those condescending eyes…It was like the Mark who once punched me, knocked me down, and walked away as if nothing happened was now standing before me—split into three bodies.Once again, I was small.Once again, I was alone.But this time… there was nowhere to run.
My breath quickened.My hands trembled.But this shaking wasn't from fear—it was from long-buried fury coming to the surface.Like in a movie scene, I instinctively reached for the spear embedded in the yard.My target was clear: take one of them out.My whole body tensed as I pulled it back—and then I threw it.
The spear struck the goblin's shoulder.A piercing scream echoed out.The wounded goblin staggered, fell to its knees.
The smirks on the other two vanished in an instant.The mockery in their eyes turned to rage.And they both lunged at me with blades like claws.
Time slowed.I took a breath.I had to stay calm.Every move, every reflex I'd trained over the years needed to matter now.But my head was a storm of contradictions:I'd never been in a real fight.I'd never truly hurt anyone.And now?Before me stood living beings.Real enemies.
But… one thought surged through me.My family.They were missing.Maybe they were still alive.And if I lived… I might see them again.In that moment, fear gave way to blind resolve.
The first goblin struck from the right.I tried to block the dagger that came like a punch—but I wasn't fast enough.The blade stabbed into my side, just beneath my ribs.
Pain…It was so sharp, I couldn't draw breath.Groaning, I staggered back—but I didn't fall.I would never fall.
I pressed the pot in my left hand against my chest, suppressing the pain.Then I gripped the machete.With a scream, I lunged forward and swung it at the first goblin's head.
A crack.Its skull shattered, caved in.Blood splattered across my face, my arms.I felt like throwing up—but there was nothing in my stomach.My mind was hazy, but I couldn't stop.
I tried to pull the machete back—but it was stuck.I yanked it—and made an involuntary slashing motion.
The second goblin's neck was severed in a clean arc.Its head rolled aside.The body fell to its knees, then collapsed.
A moment of silence.Just one breath's worth.
The third goblin—the one with the shoulder wound—stood outside the doorway, eyes locked on me.It had switched the dagger to its left hand.But there was no strength in its grip.
Its eyes were shaking.It was the first time I realized I'd inspired fear in a living being.
The machete in my hand had grown heavy.I was limping.Blood flowed from my body.But I kept walking.Step by step, toward it.And the goblin… stepped back.
That was when I understood.I was no longer the old Riven.The one who stayed silent, who ran, who disappeared.Not anymore.In this world—if you don't kill, you die.And I had made my choice.
The goblin's eyes widened with pure terror.Maybe it was the monster…But right now, I was the monster in its eyes.I gripped the machete tightly.My hand wasn't trembling anymore—no, now everything had become decision.The blood pouring from my shoulder, the gash across my chest… I felt them, but I didn't care.
My steps were slow but steady.I was limping—but not out of fear.I walked like an executioner, following a ghost to an inevitable end.The last goblin stared straight at me.It understood too.It couldn't escape.It couldn't hide.
And me…The thought of sparing it crossed my mind.But it didn't last.The silent voice deep inside me screamed:
"What if it comes back?""What if it hurts someone else?""What if my family is still alive?"
I clenched the machete.It was slick with sweat, blood, and dust.But I didn't care.
I took a step.Then another.
There was a sting in my chest, but the true pain was deeper.I took the final step and extended the blade.I used the length of my arm to my advantage.We locked eyes.We were one heartbeat apart.
And…
I drove it in.
The metal sank into flesh.Right into the chest, the heart.The goblin's eyes widened, shook.Its breath vanished.No scream—just a muffled grunt.Its knees buckled.And its body dropped to the floor, eyes still fixed on me.
I froze.I just stared.My breath was gone.
Then…
I turned toward the door.
I couldn't even hear the howling of the wind outside, or the cursed chill of the night seeping in through the broken glass.I closed the door, slid the bolt into place.The sound of the lock—after minutes of hell—was the only comforting noise I had heard.
Then…
I leaned against the door.My legs gave out.I slowly dropped to my knees.I still held the blood-soaked machete in my hand.
And then…
I threw up.
First only air…Then the bile rising from my throat…And finally, that damned breakfast I'd eaten that morning.My throat burned.Tears streamed from my eyes.This wasn't just vomiting…Everything I had kept inside was coming out.Pain.Anger.Guilt.Fear.
It wasn't just my stomach—it was my soul being emptied.My gaze fell on the three corpses beside me.The blood on them was still warm.They weren't breathing.I couldn't truly see them, but they were there.
I…I had killed three living beings.
I whispered to myself:"This isn't a game…""This isn't a dream…""This is hell.""This is real."
My heart fluttered in my chest like a caged bird.But it had grown tired of flapping.
"I did this…"
What I felt wasn't victory.There was no sense of achievement.This wasn't something to celebrate just because I had survived.This… was simply what had to be done to keep existing.
And worse…
Part of me was getting used to it.
That… frightened me more.
Because humans can get used to anything.To war.To blood.To killing.
Would I get used to it too?The next time one came…When I looked into the eyes of a creature that resembled a child…Would I stab without hesitation?
I looked at my hand.Blood.It had sunk beneath my nails.I began to tremble.Once more.
I asked myself:"Am I still Riven?"Or am I someone else now?
I leaned my head against the wall.I stared at the ceiling.The broken cable hanging from the shattered light sparked quietly.Outside, in the distance—another scream.Maybe someone else was trying to survive in another house.Or maybe… they were taking their last breath.
I was still alive.But… was this really living?
Minutes passed.Maybe hours.I had lost my sense of time.And in the silence, left alone with myself—one more thought came to my mind:
"My family…"
A new pain flared within me.They weren't here.No voices.No traces.
Had they too fallen to these monsters?
The darkness tried to drown the thought—but I wouldn't let it.No.I had to reach them.I had survived for a reason.
And that reason… now pulled me to my feet.
I reached out.I grabbed the machete from the floor once more.This time, what filled my fingers wasn't fear—but determination.
My gaze caught the blood-streaked screen before me.