About a few weeks ago, Alen and his wife, Sara, were returning to their village from the capital. Alen had spent the last several days selling his goods at the bustling market, navigating the chaos of merchants, carts, and shouting buyers. Sara had accompanied him, offering company and support, and the two had shared fleeting moments of laughter amidst the chaos—a small reprieve from their hard, simple lives.
Their village lay beyond a dense, dark jungle, a stretch of twisted roots, gnarled trees, and shadows that seemed to move on their own. To make the journey back to home safer, Alen had hired a sturdy carriage and a few armed guards, hoping to shield them from the dangers that lurked beyond the capital's roads. But safety, as they would soon discover, was nothing more than a fragile illusion.
As the carriage trundled along the narrow, winding path, the forest grew eerily silent. Birds stopped singing, and the rustling of leaves ceased, as if the jungle itself were holding its breath. Then, without warning, a horde of goblins burst from the shadows. They were small but ferocious, their greenish skin mottled and rough, eyes gleaming with cruel delight. Shrill, piercing shrieks cut through the air as they swarmed the carriage with terrifying speed.
Alen and his guards fought back valiantly, steel clashing against claw and fang. But there were too many. The goblins tore through their defenses with savage efficiency, smashing the carriage wheels, stabbing indiscriminately, and dragging anyone they could reach into the undergrowth. The jungle echoed with screams—anguished, desperate, and raw—while branches tore at flesh and armor alike.
By the time the chaos subsided, Alen and all his guards lay dead, their bodies mutilated and strewn across the forest floor. The carriage smoldered in the middle of the path, broken and abandoned, a stark monument to the suddenness and brutality of their demise.
But Sara's fate, cruel as it was, would be even darker.
The moment the goblins laid eyes on her, their attention turned into a living nightmare.
She tried to flee from them, but the strength in her fragile body collapsed in front of the maniacs.
She became their prey, subjected to horrors too vile to easily recount. Day and night, she was assaulted by tens of goblins, her life becoming living hell, enduring assault after assault, her screams swallowed by the maniacal laughter and jeers of her captors.
She pleaded and begged for her life, for mercy, for even the smallest shred of humanity—but there was none to be found in those maniacs.
When hope began to fade entirely, she found herself praying for death. She wished only to escape the relentless torment, to feel the release that the world had so cruelly denied her. Yet even death was withheld, leaving her trapped in a living hell.
Eventually, when the goblins grew bored of their victim, they tossed her from the cave into a river, intending to wash away what little life remained.
Unknowingly, by some cruel twist of fate, she survived the waters, battered and broken, and made her way back to her village.
But the homecoming brought no solace. Her husband was gone, her pride shattered, and the innocence that had once defined her was irrevocably lost. The woman who returned was not the same Sara who had left the capital—she was hollowed out, a shell of grief, pain, and trauma.
Days passed, each one heavier than the last. Then she discovered something that broke her completely—she was pregnant, carrying the child of one of those monsters. Every familiar street, every neighboring face, reminded her of what she had lost, of the horror she could never escape.
Her will to live waned with each sunrise. In the quiet moments, she saw only darkness and cruelty in the world. Finally, after endless nights of suffering and hopelessness, she made a decision. She would free herself from the chains of a world that had offered her nothing but pain. She would end her own life, taking control of the only fate left in her hands.
And so she did—she committed suicide, drowning in the same river that had carried her back to her village.
Thus ended the once-bright life of Sara, now only a tragic echo—a story of innocence destroyed, love lost, and the unbearable weight of a cruel, unfeeling world.
"Can you believe how pitiful her life became?" the man said.
"First her husband is killed, then she's captured and tortured… and after all that, she comes back pregnant. How could anyone survive that?"
Another voice muttered, "I don't even know how to process it. I can't imagine going through what she went through."
The first man shook his head. "It's just… too much. Even after everything, she felt like ending it herself. That's how cruel her life turned out."
I stood a little away from them, but a lump formed in my throat, making it harder to breathe. Their words painted a picture I couldn't simply ignore, a life shattered beyond imagination. Every syllable weighed down on me like a stone in my chest.
I tightened my hands on the hilt of my katana. Even though this world had given me a weapon, a skill, and the chance to survive, the cruelty of it all hit harder than any monster ever could. These weren't just goblins in some random encounter—they were predators, monsters that left trails of suffering wherever they went.
"…So that's the kind of world I landed in," I muttered under my breath, my voice quieter than a whisper. "And if I don't get stronger… I will be joining them after death."
I shook my head, trying to clear the heaviness from my thoughts. The village streets were quieting down now. Some of the villagers had gone home, leaving behind the smell of smoke from cooking fires and the faint clatter of shutters being closed.
I started walking back toward the inn, boots crunching softly on the cobblestones. The sunlight had begun to fade into a soft orange haze, brushing the village in warm colors.
Every shop front, every small garden, every person closing their day reminded me of something I'd never thought about before—this world had lives to protect. People who depended on their own strength, courage, or just sheer luck to survive.
By the time I reached the inn, the sky had shifted into deep hues of purple and pink.
Mira, standing behind the counter, gave me a gentle smile. "Back so soon? Did you have a good walk?"
I shrugged, trying to mask the heaviness in my chest. "Yeah… something like that," I said, voice a little rough. "Just… exploring."
She gave me a knowing look, as if she could read what I hadn't said. "Dinner will be ready soon. You should clean up before that. A warm bath will do you good after a long day."
I nodded and headed toward my room. The small inn felt cozy in the fading light—the scent of wood polish, baked bread, and a faint trace of herbs lingering in the air. I dropped my bag by the door and stretched, letting my shoulders relax for the first time in hours.
The bath Mira prepared was hot, almost scalding, and the warm water seeping over my body washed away the tension of the day. My muscles loosened, and my thoughts began to clear, though the weight of what I had overheard never fully left. I sat there for a long time, staring into the water, imagining all the things I would need to do if I wanted to make a difference.
Dinner was simple but hearty—bread, stew, and some roasted vegetables. I ate quietly, listening to the occasional murmur from other inn patrons and the soft creak of the wooden floor beneath their feet. Each bite reminded me that survival wasn't just about fighting—it was about living, planning, and preparing.
Finally, I returned to my room, the warm glow of the oil lamp casting soft shadows across the walls. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I let out a long sigh.
"This is just the beginning," I whispered to myself. "I should have already known that it isn't gonna be simple."
The night settled over the village, calm yet heavy with the echoes of lives touched by cruelty. I closed my eyes, letting the events of the day sink in, steeling myself for tomorrow. For the first time since arriving in this world, I felt the weight of responsibility—but also the faint spark of determination.
And with that thought, I drifted into sleep, ready to face whatever challenges the new day would bring.