The Cave of Lizards was as foreboding as Ethan remembered from the game—a dark, jagged scar in the rocky hillside. He tightened his grip on his sword and exhaled slowly. This was the place. He’d known it from the moment the quest began, but that didn’t make walking into it any easier.
“This damn cave,” he muttered. “The only spot where the animals could be, and it had to be here.”
The cave was notorious, not for wild beasts but for its inhabitants—mercenaries, assassins, and betrayers. In the game, players often warned each other about its dangers, sharing horror stories of ambushes and bloody battles. But knowing didn’t make the reality any less horrifying.
The air inside was damp and cold, carrying the acrid scent of blood and decay. Ethan’s boots crunched against scattered debris—broken weapons, empty potion bottles, and torn pieces of cloth. As he ventured deeper, the remnants of violence became more grotesque: a severed hand pinned to the wall with a rusted dagger, and limbs carelessly strewn across the floor. He forced himself to keep moving.
“This isn’t how it was in the game,” he muttered, his stomach twisting. “It’s worse. So much worse.”
The narrow passage opened into a larger chamber dimly lit by glowing crystals embedded in the walls. Ethan ducked behind a jagged boulder and peered into the room. Three figures stood near a set of cages. Inside the cages were the quest animals—wild creatures pacing anxiously behind enchanted iron bars—and, at the back, the shepherd dog he was sent to rescue.
Ethan’s gaze shifted to the figures standing guard. Two were clad in standard mercenary armor, weapons slung lazily over their shoulders. The third was different. The way he held himself, the confidence in his stance—it felt eerily familiar. Ethan’s breath caught in his throat.
“Mark,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.
Mark Lowcut. A name Ethan had never thought he’d associate with betrayal. They had played this game together for years, part of a team of friends who trusted each other implicitly. But the man standing there now, flanked by mercenaries, was a stranger. His daggers gleamed menacingly in the dim light, and blood stained his leather armor.
Ethan’s HUD flickered as Mark’s stats came into view:
Name: Mark Lowcut
Level: 12
Character Rank: B
Class: Assassin (2nd Tier)(7 player kills)
Unique Skills: Stealth [A] Lv4, Quickstep [C] Lv5, Berserk [B] Lv3
Ethan’s jaw tightened as he scanned the details. Seven player kills. Seven. Mark had chosen the path of a killer. His thoughts raced as memories of their gaming days flashed through his mind. The Mark he remembered wouldn’t have done this. What changed?Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Ethan shook his head. This wasn’t the time for questions. The animals were here, and so was Mark. If he didn’t act fast, he’d lose them—and possibly his life.
He adjusted his grip on his sword and waited. When the two mercenaries turned their backs, Ethan surged forward. His blade moved in a blur, cutting both down before they had a chance to react.
<Weapon Skill>
2 souls obtained.
Number of souls: 2.
Mark turned sharply, daggers at the ready. His eyes widened in recognition. “Ethan?”
“Yeah, it’s me,” Ethan said, his voice steady but cold. “Why, Mark? Why did you choose this path?”
Mark’s lips curled into a smirk. “Why not? It’s simple, really. Killing players is the easiest way to level up and get better gear. Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”
Ethan clenched his fists. “I can’t let you keep doing this.”
“Then try and stop me,” Mark said, his grin widening. “If you dare.”
Ethan didn’t wait. He dashed forward, his sword slicing through the air. Mark moved faster, sidestepping the attack and retaliating with a quick slash. Ethan felt the sting as Mark’s dagger grazed his arm.
<Weapon Skill>
0.05 souls collected.
Number of souls: 2.05.
Mark’s Stealth skill activated, and he vanished from Ethan’s sight. Ethan spun around, his guard up, but it wasn’t enough. A sharp pain exploded in his back as Mark’s dagger found its mark.
“Damn it!” Ethan hissed, stumbling forward. “That Stealth skill is broken.”
Mark laughed. “This is how the game works, Ethan. RNG decides everything. You rolled low, and I rolled high. It’s just bad luck.”
Ethan gritted his teeth. He couldn’t see Mark, but he could feel him circling. He closed his eyes, focusing on his other senses. When Mark struck again, Ethan moved instinctively, evading the attack and grabbing Mark’s wrist mid-swing.
Mark’s eyes widened in shock. “What the—?”
A notification flashed across Ethan’s HUD.
<New Unique Skill Learned>
High Instinct [S] Lv1 - A passive skill that improves perception of hidden enemies and enhances reaction speed in critical moments.
Ethan smirked. “Thanks for the assist, Mark.”
With a swift motion, he twisted Mark’s wrist and slashed his sword across it. Mark cried out, leaping back and clutching his wounded hand.
<Weapon Skill>
0.20 souls obtained.
Number of souls: 2.25.
Mark’s face twisted in fury. “You’ll regret this, Ethan!” he roared, activating his Berserk skill. His veins bulged, his muscles swelling as raw power coursed through him.
Mark charged, daggers flashing wildly. Ethan’s new skill kicked in, allowing him to dodge with precision, landing counterattacks whenever he saw an opening.
<Weapon Skill>
0.25 souls obtained.
Number of souls: 2.50.
But the fight wasn’t over. In a moment of desperation, Mark lost reasoning completely and aproach Ethan too fastly. He swings his daggers strongly at Ethan''s chest hurting him badly. After that, he threw his own daggers, misleading Ethan and throwing a powerful kick right in his chest. The force of the blow sent Ethan crashing into the wall, coughing blood.
“Damn it,” Ethan muttered, struggling to stay upright. “This is bad…”
Mark let out a feral roar, charging again. Ethan tryed to stay conscious and raise his sword to keep fighting, but he can''t. His end seems to be near.