From the darkness—
Something stepped forward.
Heavy.
Deliberate.
The dim light caught green skin streaked with black stripes, stretched over a body too large to belong in any natural space. The creature's shoulders scraped the edges of the chamber as it moved. Each step pressed weight into the stone.
It was the king.
A skirt of torn hide hung from its waist. Around its neck dangled human skulls, yellowed and cracked, their empty sockets facing outward as if forced to witness everything again. A crown made from rib bones sat crooked atop its head. Bone bangles wrapped its wrists, clicking softly with each movement—an almost polite sound that didn't match what stood there.
Pure muscle.
An eight-pack carved so thick it looked sculpted from stone. Legs like pillars. A body that didn't look killable—only stoppable for a moment.
Cyan tightened his grip on the bronze sword he'd taken from the goblin elite. The weight grounded him.
Trophy or not, it was all he had.
The king's eyes snapped open.
Red flared to life inside them—embers dragged from a furnace.
The goblin rose to its full height.
Cyan swallowed. The sound was loud in the silence.
"So… you're the end," he muttered, more to steady himself than to taunt.
The goblin king answered with a roar.
Not loud.
Heavy.
The chamber shuddered. Dust spilled from the ceiling. Bones rattled across the floor. Cyan felt the sound in his ribs, vibrating through his spine.
Then the king glared.
Cyan felt it immediately.
Bloodlust—dense, crushing, deliberate.
He blinked—
The goblin king was already in front of him.
Two steps away.
The spiked iron log came down in a brutal arc.
Too fast.
Cyan threw himself left on instinct alone.
The weapon missed him by inches and struck the floor.
The impact split stone. Cracks spiderwebbed outward. Wind exploded through the chamber, slamming Cyan across the ground like debris in a storm.
He rolled, coughing, heart hammering.
"With that size… how is it this fast?" he thought, sweat pouring down his face.
The log came again.
And again.
Cyan dodged—sliding, twisting, barely staying ahead of death. Each missed swing crushed stone.
Each strike rewrote the floor.
One hit would end him. He knew it.
The king swung wide—
Cyan raised his sword.
Metal screamed.
The clash drove pain straight up his arms. Sparks burst between bronze and iron. Cyan's feet skidded backward, skin tearing against stone as the ground cracked beneath him.
Too strong.
He shifted at the last second, redirecting the force downward.
The log smashed into the floor again. Stone erupted into fragments.
Cyan jumped.
Higher than he ever had.
He landed on the goblin king's shoulders and drove the blade into its neck.
The roar that followed was different.
Pain.
Fury.
The sound tore through the chamber, generating violent gusts that nearly ripped Cyan loose. He clenched the hilt with both hands, muscles screaming as he held on.
"Stay—DOWN!" he shouted through clenched teeth.
The goblin thrashed, massive hands clawing at its shoulders, trying to grab him.
Cyan moved.
He ran.
Across muscle. Over scars. Along bone.
The king swatted at him wildly, hands slamming together in clumsy arcs, but Cyan ducked and leapt between blows, blade flashing as he carved deep lines into green flesh.
Blood sprayed.
Warm. Thick.
It soaked him. Filled his mouth. Burned his nose.
Cyan screamed—not in fear, but effort—as his sword cut again and again.
The goblin staggered.
Its knees hit the ground.
Stone cracked.
The roars faded into labored breaths.
Cyan didn't slow.
Didn't think.
Didn't stop until the massive body slumped forward, motionless.
He stood there, chest heaving, blade dripping.
Then—
"I'm not taking chances," he rasped.
Cyan sprinted along the goblin's back, preparing to end it.
He jumped.
The goblin king's eyes snapped open.
Its neck twisted.
Too late to stop.
"What—"
A massive hand caught him mid-ar, then threw him.
The world flipped.
Cyan slammed into the wall.
Stone shattered. Pain exploded through his body. His blood painted the cracks as he slid down, limbs trembling.
He hit the floor on one knee.
Breathing ragged.
Vision swimming.
The goblin king rose again.
And Cyan realized—
The fight had only just begun.
Blood streamed from Cyan's scalp down his face, blinding him in red. Pain ripped through his skull, raw and overwhelming. His legs buckled and tears slipped free—not from weakness, but from the body giving up before the mind could catch up.
Then the impossible happened.
The wounds he'd carved into the goblin king closed.
Flesh knitted. Muscle reformed. Torn skin sealed itself as if time itself was being reversed.
Regeneration.
The king straightened, fully restored, red eyes burning with renewed hunger.
Cyan's breath hitched. Real fear set in—cold, paralyzing, childlike.
"I… I don't want to die," he sobbed, the words breaking out of him before he could stop them.
The goblin king bent, seized its iron log, and threw.
The weapon tore through the air like a cannon shot.
Cyan froze.
So this is it.
His thoughts slowed, sharpened.
Is this really the end?
I don't want to die.
Then—
"Jaden!"
The name cut through the fear like a blade.
Who… is Jaden? Cyan thought, vision dimming as the iron log filled his sight.
Darkness rushed in.
—
"Jaden, are you still scared?"
The voice was warm. Familiar.
"No," a younger voice answered without hesitation. "I'm not."
"Then keep it safe for me, okay?"
—
"I know that smile…" Cyan whispered in the dark.
Time stretched.
The iron log crawled forward, impossibly slow.
The memory hit him all at once.
Not fragments.
Everything.
Canada.
A different life.
A different name.
Jaden St. Flyn.
His mother's face came into focus—long black hair, pale skin, eyes as blue as the ocean. A smile that had carried him through fear, loneliness, and loss.
"How did I forget you… Mom," he murmured.
He closed his eyes.
"Mom…"
"Yes, dear."
The reply was soft. Maybe imagined. Maybe not.
"Please," he whispered, voice steady now. "Lend me your strength."
Light bloomed inside the darkness.
White. Vast. Gentle.
His eyes intense.
snapped open.
Glowed/ Gold
—
The iron log screamed back to full speed.
Cyan moved.
He dove left as the weapon obliterated the wall behind him, stone erupting into dust and fragments. The impact shook the chamber violently.
Cyan landed hard, rolling to his feet.
His eyes burned gold.
Through the dust, he saw clearly.
He breathed once.
Steady.
The dust cloud hung between them, masking him from the goblin king's vision.
Cyan stepped forward.
"No more running," he said quietly, voice firm. "No more fear."
He raised his arm and pointed through the haze.
"Right here. Right now."
The dust began to settle.
"I'm done backing down."
A faint, dangerous smile touched his lips.
"Bring it on!!."
END OF CHAPTER 12