As we ran into the darkness of the cave, the damp, heavy air started to feel like a blanket being pressed over my face.

  My boots splashed in cold puddles I couldn't see, and the echoes of the fighting outside grew fainter and fainter, replaced by a terrifying, hollow silence.

  I wanted to look back.

  I wanted to scream for Uncle Gradios to come with us.

  But Frans didn't stop, and his shadow was the only thing keeping me from vanishing into the blackness.

  Suddenly, Frans spoke.

  His voice was calm. Too calm.

  It was the kind of voice he used when he was explaining a difficult sword form, but there was something underneath it that made my chest feel tight.

  "Listen, Rick."

  I stumbled over a rock, nearly dropping my shield.

  "I'm listening, Frans!"

  "Uncle Gradios and the guards… they are the best warriors of our clan. They have the greatest pride." He didn't look at me.

  He just kept his eyes on the darkness ahead, his sword held ready.

  "They already chose their battlefield. Dying on the battlefield is the highest honor for them. Especially when protecting something important."

  He paused for a tiny second, and I heard him take a sharp breath. "…So don't be sad, Rick. We should feel proud. And respect them."

  I wiped a mix of sweat and tears from my eyes.

  I felt like… he wasn't saying that only to me.

  He was saying it to himself, trying to make his heart as hard as the stone walls around us.

  I wanted to tell him that I didn't care about "honor" or "battlefields," I just wanted everyone to come home.

  I wanted to go back to being "lazy Rick," who got scolded for napping.

  But the air was getting colder, and I realized I couldn't go back.

  Then we saw them. My breath caught in my throat.

  A horde.

  It wasn't just a few monsters.

  It was a sea of them.

  Dozens of goblins with glowing, yellow eyes were crawling across the wet stone floor, their long, dirty nails scratching against the rock.

  Above them, huge cave spiders with hairy legs and too many eyes were clinging to the walls and the dripping ceiling, their fangs clicking together.

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  And in the center, the real nightmares.

  Several orcs.

  They were way bigger than the ones in my books.

  They were taller, smarter, and they wore bits of rusted iron armor that smelled like old blood.

  They were the leaders, and they were looking at us like we were just pieces of meat.

  Frans stopped.

  He slowly took his stance, his feet shifting on the gravel.

  And I saw it. His pupil changed.

  The air around him seemed to vibrate, like the world was scared of him.

  Then he vanished.

  He didn't run.

  He didn't dash.

  He just disappeared.

  It was like he turned into a ghost made of silver light.

  The first orc's head flew into the air before it even realized Frans was there.

  Its body just stood there for a second, leaking red, before it crashed down.

  The second orc died with its chest split open, and the third had its spine cut in half as it tried to raise its rusted club.

  Three orcs.

  Dead.

  In a single breath.

  "Let's go, Rick!"

  We charged.

  My heart was thumping so hard I thought it would pop.

  Frans moved like a storm in front of me, his sword drawing arcs of silver light that cut through the dark.

  Orcs fell.

  Goblins were cut apart into messy piles of green and grey.

  I stayed right behind him, just like he ordered.

  My arms felt so heavy, but I kept that shield up.

  Block and stab. Block and stab.

  I was so scared I was shaking, my teeth clicking together like the spiders' fangs.

  A goblin jumped from the wall, its screech sounding like a dying bird…

  I raised my shield. CLANG! Its jagged dagger scraped across the metal, sending vibrations up my arm that made my bones ache.

  I didn't think.

  I just pushed forward and stabbed upward as Frans taught me.

  Warm, sticky blood spilled onto my hand.

  I wanted to drop the sword and wash it off, but more yellow eyes were coming.

  Another goblin tried to rush past me to reach Frans's back, but I slammed it with the edge of my shield, feeling its ribs crunch, and drove my sword into its throat.

  My eyes were wide and stinging from the sweat and the smell of the cave, but I didn't stop.

  We moved.

  Step by step.

  Meter by meter.

  Time lost its meaning.

  It felt like we had been in the dark for a thousand years.

  My arms started to shake.

  My breathing became rough, sounding like a broken bellows in the quiet parts of the fight. Sweat mixed with the blood on my face, making everything salty and bitter.

  Once, I made a mistake.

  I was too tired.

  A goblin slipped behind me, moving as quietly as a shadow.

  I felt something move. I turned, but I was too slow.

  Rip! A blade scraped across my side.

  It burned like fire!

  I let out a sharp cry and twisted my body, barely avoiding a hit that would have opened my tummy. I didn't look. I just stabbed backward blindly, screaming at the top of my lungs.

  GRAK

  It died behind me, but I didn't stop to look.

  Frans never stopped.

  He never slowed down. Every time an orc appeared, he cut it down before it could even command the others.

  He was like a machine made of steel and rings.

  But the numbers, they never seemed to end. For every goblin he killed, two more crawled out of the cracks.

  My legs burned like they were on fire.

  My arms felt like they were made of heavy stone.

  My shield felt heavier every time I lifted it, like it was trying to pull me down into the mud.

  At some point, I stopped counting.

  I stopped thinking. I was just a small, terrified animal moving in the dark.

  Blocking.

  Killing.

  Advancing.

  Surviving.

  My mind kept flickering back to Mother.

  What would she say if she saw me now?

  She'd tell me to stand up straight.

  She'd tell me not to be lazy.

  Then I saw it.

  Ahead.

  A wide stone chamber opened up, the ceiling so high I couldn't see the top. At the far end was an ancient, massive door. It was engraved with the symbol of our clan, the four rings.

  "…We're here," I whispered, my voice sounding like a ghost's.

  After one hour… one hour of nonstop blood and steel and the sound of my own panic… we finally reached it.

  The Chamber of Honor.

  The monsters seemed to pull back, hissing at the light that started to glow from the ancient door.

  My legs finally gave out, and I fell to my knees, clutching my shield to my chest.

  We were alive.

  We were actually alive.

  But as I looked at the heavy stone door, I wondered if the boy who went into the cave would ever be the same as the boy who came out.