The Last Nightmare

The goblin's eyes gleamed with ferocity, its wide grin showing sharp, yellow teeth as it raised its axe high. The beast's chest heaved with each breath, and the stench of its sweat and blood filled the air. The creature was determined to end this fight—and it was evident in every movement. Nate could almost feel the weight of its malicious intent.

He clenched his jaw, trying to steady his breath. His heart pounded, thudding in his chest like a drumbeat urging him to keep going. But his body was already starting to feel the strain. Every muscle screamed for rest, and every breath felt like it was taking longer than it should. He had to admit, the goblin was relentless. But he couldn't let this beast overpower him. He couldn't let his fatigue dictate his next move.

Focus, Nate told himself. You've fought before. You can do this.

The goblin snarled and lunged forward.

Nate barely had time to react. The goblin's axe was a blur as it swung down toward him with terrifying force. He wasn't fast enough to evade the strike entirely, and the edge of the axe grazed his arm, the searing pain pulling a gasp from his lips. Blood stained his sleeve, the wound shallow but enough to slow him.

He staggered back, gritting his teeth to suppress the sting. His pulse was racing, and for a moment, his mind threatened to panic, to succumb to the overwhelming pressure of the fight. I can't lose to this thing. I've come too far to fail here.

Nate's legs were growing heavy, but his thoughts were sharper than ever. He remembered his training, the countless hours spent preparing for moments like this, the tips and pointers he had received. He couldn't afford to waste any more time. I need to focus. I need to think.

The goblin raised its axe again, and this time, Nate was ready. As the axe descended, he shifted his weight, throwing his body to the side. The goblin's strike missed by mere inches, but the wind from the blade slapped across his face. His heart raced as he rolled back onto his feet, his katana in hand. He needed to be smarter. Smarter than the goblin, faster than the goblin.

The goblin's movements are predictable, Nate thought, narrowing his eyes as the goblin growled, its gaze burning with hatred. It's relying too heavily on brute strength. I need to find an opening.

Nate had learned long ago that strength wasn't always enough. You had to know when to attack, when to dodge, and when to let the enemy make a mistake. The goblin was powerful, but it lacked precision. It was too reckless, too consumed by its rage to see past its immediate desires.

What would I do if I were the goblin? Nate thought to himself, stepping sideways as the goblin swung again, aiming for his neck. I would strike blindly, keep pushing forward without thinking, make sure my opponent runs out of options before they get the chance to retaliate.

The goblin was swinging wildly, each blow more intense than the last, trying to overwhelm Nate with its brute strength. But Nate wasn't just dodging. His mind was running through scenarios—calculating, analyzing. He could feel the opening. It was coming. He just had to be patient.

The goblin's next attack was slower, more sluggish, as its energy was beginning to drain. Its movements were uncoordinated, not as fast as before. It was tiring. This is my chance, Nate realized. The goblin isn't as fast as it was. Its power is waning.

His body was exhausted, his muscles stiff, but he had been here before—when every part of him screamed to give up, to fall back and let his opponent win. But that wasn't who he was. Not anymore.

He crouched low, waiting for the next strike, his katana gripped tightly in his hands. His breath was slow now, controlled. He had learned that panic was his enemy. If he let fear take over, he would lose. He had to think through this—carefully, methodically. What would I do if I were fighting myself? He had asked this question so many times in his training, and it was that self-reflection that pushed him forward now.

The goblin swung once more.

Nate was already moving. He sidestepped and spun, his katana flashing as he aimed for the goblin's side. His blade cut deep into the thick, muscular flesh, and the goblin howled in pain, stumbling back. The beast's axe fell to the ground, and for a moment, Nate saw its vulnerability.

This was it.

Nate's mind sharpened like a blade. It's not enough to just wound it. I need to end this. He could feel the adrenaline beginning to flood his system. He could see the goblin's movements slow, its shoulders slumping under the weight of its injuries. The goblin's right side was exposed. His opportunity was right in front of him.

Nate took a deep breath, centered himself. His legs burned, but the time for hesitation was over. He rushed forward, closing the distance with the beast. The goblin tried to bring its axe up, but its movements were too slow.

Now, Nate, now!

With a swift, controlled motion, Nate aimed for the goblin's neck, his katana slicing through the air like lightning. The blow connected with sickening precision, the sharp edge cutting through the goblin's exposed throat.

The goblin's eyes went wide in disbelief. It gasped, its breath choking off as blood spurted from the deep wound. The creature stumbled, its body jerking violently as it tried to stay on its feet, but it was too late.

The goblin fell to its knees, the axe slipping from its hand as it crumpled to the floor with a heavy, final thud. The blood pooled around it, and the dungeon fell silent once more.

Nate stood there, panting, his body trembling from the strain of the fight. His katana was slick with blood, his arm aching from the force of the blows he had just delivered. He stared at the fallen goblin, his chest rising and falling with every breath.

I did it… I actually did it.

His mind couldn't process it at first. He had won. He had killed the goblin that had once seemed so much more powerful, so much more dangerous. But now, it was nothing more than a heap of flesh and blood at his feet.

But even as the victory settled into his bones, a thought wormed its way into his mind. This wasn't enough. Not yet.

The fight had been a test—one he had passed—but it had also exposed his weaknesses. He was still too slow. He still relied too much on brute force. He had been fortunate that the goblin's strength had waned, that his opening had appeared at the right moment. But that wasn't enough. Not if he wanted to face the real challenges ahead.

He had to get faster. He had to be more precise. The next battle, the next opponent, might not give him the same opening. He couldn't afford to rely on luck.

I can't afford to rely on just instinct anymore, Nate thought to himself. I have to be better than that.

As the adrenaline slowly began to fade, the weight of the fight pressed down on him. His body ached, his mind whirring with thoughts of the next step. There was so much more to learn. The victory felt hollow—unfinished. He wasn't where he needed to be.

But the first step was taken. And that, at least, was something to build on.