The goblin took an instinctive step backward.
Macarius noticed.
Even through the rain blurring his vision, he could see the change in the creature’s expression. Its previous grin had disappeared, replaced by something resembling disbelief. Its eyes remained fixed on the wounds across Macarius’s back, watching as torn flesh gradually knitted together and the bleeding stopped.
The pain, however, had not disappeared.
"GHHHAAAAAH!"
Macarius’s body convulsed as the regeneration continued. His fingers dug into the mud, and his teeth clenched so hard that his jaw began to ache. He wanted to scream until his throat gave out, but the pain kept dragging more sounds from him.
"AHHH! DAMMIT! JUST—JUST FINISH ALREADY!"
The rain hammered against his back. Slowly, the wounds closed.
Macarius remained on his knees, breathing in short, ragged gasps. His body was still exhausted, and the injuries had left him trembling. But he could move his arms again. He could feel his legs beneath him.
Most importantly, he was still alive. He lifted his head. The goblin was still standing there. For a few seconds, neither of them moved. Then Macarius smiled.
It wasn’t a pleasant smile. His lips stretched across his blood-covered face, while his exhausted eyes remained fixed on the goblin. There was no confidence in his posture, no elegance in the way he held his weapon. He looked like a boy who had been pushed far beyond his limits and had somehow found the strength to stand up one more time.
"You motherfucker."
His voice was hoarse, almost conversational, but something about its uneven rhythm made the words sound wrong.
"Do you know how much that hurt?"
The goblin tightened its grip on its rusted sword. Macarius slowly rose to his feet.
"Actually, no. Of course you don’t. Why would you care?"
He took one step forward. The goblin retreated. Macarius noticed that, too. A short laugh escaped him.
"What’s wrong? You were smiling a moment ago."
He tilted his head, watching the creature’s frightened expression.
"Come on. Smile again."
The goblin shrieked and rushed toward him, swinging its sword with both hands. Macarius moved instinctively.
He wasn’t suddenly faster or more skilled. His legs still felt heavy, and his body was far from recovered. But this time, he didn’t freeze when the weapon came toward him. He watched the goblin’s shoulders, the movement of its arms, and the direction of its feet.
Then he stepped aside. The rusted sword passed through empty air. Macarius struck the goblin across the body. The creature staggered, but it didn’t fall. It turned immediately and slashed at him again, forcing Macarius to retreat through the mud.
"Ah, come on! I thought you were supposed to be scared!"
He blocked the next strike. The impact rattled his arms, and he nearly lost his grip on his weapon.
"GHHH! DAMMIT!"
He pushed against the goblin’s sword and kicked it in the stomach. The creature stumbled backward. Macarius followed, swinging wildly. His first strike missed, but the second caught the goblin’s arm. The rusted sword slipped from its fingers and landed in the mud.
Macarius stared at the fallen weapon. Then he looked at the goblin.
"...You dropped it."
The goblin backed away. Macarius’s smile widened.
"You dropped your sword."
The creature turned and tried to flee.
"WHERE ARE YOU GOING?!"
Macarius lunged forward, almost slipping as he chased it. He caught up after a few hurried steps and struck it down before it could disappear between the trees.
The goblin fell face-first into the mud. Macarius stood over it, panting. For a moment, he felt nothing but exhaustion. Then he glanced at his hands. They were shaking. His entire body was shaking.
The regeneration had repaired his wounds, but it hadn’t erased the memory of the pain. He could still remember the sword striking his back, the unbearable sensation that had forced him to crawl through the mud, and the certainty that he was about to die.
His smile slowly faded.
"...That was horrible."
He swallowed, then looked at the fallen goblin.
"Seriously. That was horrible."
He wiped his face with his sleeve, only to realize that it was already soaked.
"I’m never doing this again."
He paused.
"Unless I have to."
A distant shriek interrupted him. Macarius slowly turned his head. Another goblin emerged from between the trees.
He stared at it. The goblin stared back.
"...You have got to be kidding me."
The creature raised its rusted sword. Macarius raised his own weapon.
"Fine. Come here, then."
The goblin charged. Macarius met it halfway.
Their weapons collided, and the impact forced him to stumble. He slipped on the mud, recovered his balance at the last moment, and swung toward the goblin’s exposed side.
The creature blocked the attack. Macarius’s eyes widened.
’It can block?’
The goblin counterattacked immediately.
He barely avoided the rusted blade, but the movement left him off balance. The goblin pressed its advantage, forcing him backward between two trees.
Macarius gritted his teeth.
"Okay. Okay, I get it. You’re not going to make this easy."
He watched the goblin’s feet. The creature stepped forward, attempting to drive him against the tree behind him. Macarius waited until the last possible moment before moving sideways. The goblin’s sword struck the trunk, and its momentum carried it forward.
Macarius attacked. The goblin collapsed. He stood there for a moment, trying to catch his breath.
"...One more."
He glanced at the corpses scattered throughout the forest.
"Actually, how many have I killed now?"
He tried to remember. Five before the ambush. The goblin that had attacked him from behind. The ones that had appeared afterward.
His head hurt.
"Forget it. Doesn’t matter."
He turned away from the bodies and continued moving through the forest, keeping his weapon ready. He didn’t know how much time had passed. The rain made it difficult to judge, and exhaustion was beginning to blur the distinction between one moment and the next.
Every time he encountered another goblin, he fought. Sometimes he managed to use the terrain to his advantage. Other times, he made mistakes and paid for them with fresh injuries. He screamed whenever the pain became too much, cursed whenever he stumbled, and muttered to himself whenever his thoughts began to drift.
"Left. Watch the left."
A goblin appeared from behind a tree.
"Of course it’s the left."
He blocked its sword and counterattacked.
"Why couldn’t you have come from the right? At least I’d have been surprised."
The goblin fell. Macarius took two steps forward before realizing that his legs were trembling again.
"Right. Rest. I need to rest."
He leaned against a tree. His eyes slowly closed.
For a few seconds, the sound of the rain seemed distant. The cold water running down his face felt almost pleasant, and the exhaustion weighing on his body offered an irresistible invitation to stop thinking.
Then he remembered the goblin that had attacked him from behind. His eyes snapped open.
"No."
He slapped his cheek.
"No sleeping."
He slapped the other one.
"Stay awake, Macarius. You can sleep when you’re somewhere that doesn’t want to kill you."
He looked around the forest.
"Preferably somewhere with a bed. And food. Definitely food."
His stomach growled. Macarius stared down at it.
"Now you’re complaining, too?"
He let out a weak laugh. Then, more quietly, he added, "...I want to go home."
The words escaped him so naturally that he stopped breathing for a moment.
Home.
He didn’t know what that meant.
He couldn’t remember a family, a house, or anyone who might be waiting for him. He didn’t know whether there was a place he could return to, or whether he had ever possessed such a place in the first place.
But the longing remained. He lowered his head.
"Why do I keep saying that?"
The rain offered no answer. Macarius stood there, listening to the water falling through the canopy. Then he tightened his grip on his weapon.
"Whatever."
He couldn’t afford to dwell on things he didn’t understand.
’Not now.’
He had survived the goblins so far. His trait was allowing him to recover from injuries that should have left him incapacitated, and his Tower blessing had given him some means of fighting back.
But he was still weak.
He had nearly died several times already, and the fact that he could regenerate didn’t change how easily a single mistake could end his life.
If he wanted to live peacefully someday, he would have to become stronger. Strong enough to survive without relying on luck. Strong enough that he wouldn’t have to crawl through the mud, begging his body to keep moving.
Strong enough that he could finally stop living in fear. Macarius looked down at his trembling hands.
"...I’m going to get stronger."
His voice was quiet, but he meant it.
"I don’t care who I was before. I don’t care what I’ve forgotten."
He raised his head, looking into the rain-soaked forest.
"If this is the life I’ve got, then I’ll make it a life worth living."
A goblin shrieked somewhere nearby. Macarius closed his eyes briefly.
"...And I’ll start by getting rid of you bastards."
He moved toward the sound.
By the time he encountered the next group, he had killed more than ten goblins in total. His clothes were torn, his body was covered in mud and blood, and his movements had become increasingly erratic from exhaustion.
Yet he continued fighting.
He used the trees to obstruct attacks, the mud to disrupt the goblins’ footing, and every opening he could find to land a strike. When he was injured, he endured the pain as his regeneration repaired the damage. When he stumbled, he forced himself back up.
He wasn’t fighting beautifully. He wasn’t fighting intelligently all the time. He was fighting like someone who had decided that, no matter how much it hurt, he was not going to die here.
Eventually, the cries of the goblins grew less frequent. Macarius stood in the middle of the forest, surrounded by fallen bodies and discarded rusted swords. His weapon hung loosely in his hand, and his breathing was so ragged that every breath sounded like a struggle.
Rain poured over him. He stared at the ground, blinking slowly.
"...Am I done?"
No answer came. He looked at the bodies again.
"Please tell me I’m done."
Then a familiar voice called from somewhere beyond the trees.
"Macarius?!"
He slowly raised his head. Aksibilian emerged through the rain. The moment he saw Macarius, he stopped walking. His eyes moved over the corpses, counting them almost unconsciously, before returning to the blood-covered boy standing among them.
Macarius looked back at him.
His expression was exhausted, his hair plastered to his forehead, and his entire body seemed to be held upright by sheer stubbornness.
For a moment, neither spoke. Then Macarius raised his free hand in a weak greeting.
"...Hey."
He paused, glancing at the corpses around him.
"Did you have as much fun as I did?"
Aksibilian stared at him. Macarius’s lips twitched into a crooked smile.
"...That was a joke."
Then suddenly he fell to the ground and started shaking violently while shouting like crazy. His injuries started to regenerating and he was near to losing his consciousness.