A thunderous explosion shook the ground as two figures were hurled through the thick dust—Clara and Han. Both were battered, blood dripping from their lips as they hit the ground hard, barely managing to stay on their feet.
"This isn't good," Clara muttered, wiping the blood from her mouth. Her body was aching, bruised from head to toe. If not for the healing effects of the white spheres she'd used earlier, she might have already collapsed.
She turned to Han, who stood beside her, panting heavily.
Han glanced at his HP: 150/300. His brow furrowed. "Barely," he said, voice strained.
The enemies weren't overly powerful—but there were too many. Wave after wave had come at them, and now, the third wave loomed beyond the thinning dust: goblins and wildhounds, snarling and ready to kill.
"Wait... are they infinite?" Clara asked, eyes widening in horror. "If this keeps up—"
"We're dead," Han finished grimly.
He exhaled slowly. He had been conserving his CP, but holding back now would be suicide. "Navi," he called.
"Yes, Hero," the AI responded.
Han twitched. That title always felt like a joke. Sometimes, he regretted giving the system a personality.
"Create a new skill," he said.
"Skill name and description required," Navi replied promptly.
Han's mind raced. He didn't have time to plan or get creative. Only one word came to mind.
"Clone," he said. "Description... whatever. Just make it work."
On his system screen, a glowing hand began crafting the skill, forging it from code and will.
Clara watched Han, confused. He stood motionless as the enemy horde charged toward them. Panic gripped her. Has he given up? Is he just going to die like that? If so, she was doomed too.
She hurled two more white spheres at the advancing monsters—but one of the black goblins leapt up and struck it mid-air. It spun back toward her.
When the dust cleared—They were gone.
From the sky, a figure descended like a meteor.
"Fifth Jungle Art: Gorilla Smash!"
A massive fist struck a dark goblin straight on the skull. Its head caved in, its body flattened into the earth in a splatter of blood.
Another goblin lunged, trying to impale Han—only for its arm to be caught mid-air by a second Han.
"First Jungle Art: Wolf Clutch!"
With a thunderous slam, the goblin was smashed into the ground, bouncing back up—just in time to meet a descending white blade that cleaved it in two.
The enemies hesitated, stunned.
Above them, yet another Han spiraled down like a living drill.
"Tenth Jungle Art: Falcon Dive!"
He tore straight through a goblin and the wildhound it rode, the aftershock knocking others off balance. That moment was all it took.
Two more Hans blurred in from the sides, white blades drawn. In perfect synchronization, they sliced through four more goblins with ease.
The remaining monsters froze.
In a matter of seconds, over ten enemies had been obliterated—and all by one person. Or rather... multiple versions of him.
Clara stared in shock. Behind the army of clones, the real Han stood calmly beside her.
She couldn't believe what she was seeing. Having two skills was already considered incredibly rare. Three? Practically unheard of. But Han—he broke every known rule. He had strength, speed, uncanny reflexes, and now... clones?
He was something else entirely.
Questions filled her mind, but she held them back. Now wasn't the time.
"Let's go," Han said simply. "The rest will be easier now."
Clara nodded silently.
Surrounding them stood seven more Hans, blades gleaming and eyes locked on the enemy.
The real Han took his stance. His knees bent, one hand raised like a claw, the other steady at his side. He exhaled slowly as a white blade formed in his palm, gleaming with bright light.
"Fourth Jungle Art: Cheetah Stride."
Around him, the other Han clones mirrored unique stances, each radiating a different energy.
"First Jungle Art: Wolf Clutch."
"Second Jungle Art: Panther Strike."
"Third Jungle Art: Eagle Pulse."
"Fourth Jungle Art: Cheetah Stride."
"Fifth Jungle Art: Gorilla Smash."
"Sixth Jungle Art: Snake Curl."
"Seventh Jungle Art: Mantis Slice."
Without hesitation, they launched themselves at the goblins and beasts, movements blurring with precision and deadly grace.
One clone slashed through a goblin's neck using Mantis Slice, severing it cleanly. Another goblin struck from behind, but its blade met a solid wall of wind.
"Eleventh Jungle Art: Turtle Shield."
A clone declared, wind swirling into a barrier that deflected the attack. Before the goblin could react, its head was taken clean off.
Clara stood frozen, awe overtaking her. One Han is already a monster... but this? This is war incarnate.
She snapped out of her daze just as a goblin corpse tumbled toward her. She dodged and grit her teeth.
"I've got to pull my weight too," she muttered, charging into the chaos with white spheres rotating around her.
Meanwhile, at the fortress...
A black blade lashed out toward a blond-haired man, who raised his arm, forming a shield just in time to block it.
Before the dark goblin could retreat, two burning gauntlets slammed in from both sides—its head crushed like fruit.
The final dark goblin fell. The survivors slumped to the ground, gasping for breath. Of their group, three were dead. The remaining healer, a C-rank lady, moved quickly to patch the worst injuries, her power already waning.
Nathan, the leader, stood. His face was pale, but his voice steady.
"Everyone, get it together. The portal won't hold for much longer. We must kill the boss now."
Reluctantly, the team nodded. If they didn't act now, they wouldn't get another chance.
They pushed open the heavy door.
A figure sat upon a throne of jagged blue crystal.
Unlike the savage goblins they had faced, this one resembled a human in stature—but everything else was wrong. His skin was dark as ash, his eyes burning with searing crimson light. His aura choked the room, making even breathing feel like drowning.
Nathan clenched his fists.
So that's the portal boss...
Elsewhere in the battlefield...
Three goblins ran in panic, their eyes wide with terror. Before they could flee far, a white sphere appeared in front of them—familiar, and deadly.
Their faces twisted in horror.
The explosion rocked the clearing.
Clara wiped her brow. "Got the last ones..." she said, panting.
Han sat atop a dead wildhound, exhausted, his breath shallow. Dozens of beast cores littered the ground—though most had already vanished into his system's inventory, a feature he'd added after clearing the last portal.
He picked up another core. It flickered, then disappeared.
Clara blinked in surprise. "Okay... I accepted you were a freak," she muttered.
She stored her own loot in a glowing white sphere that shrank with a pulse. The mechanics of it still baffled Han. She also gathered the seven corpses of the dark goblins they'd killed, claiming she needed them "for experiments."
Then her eyes narrowed.
"Don't you think it's strange?" she asked.
Han glanced at her, too drained to speak, but his expression urged her to continue.
"There were only seven dark goblins here. This is a Yellow Portal. There should've been more."
Han's eyes widened as he come into realization.
He stood, voice hoarse but urgent.
"They're not here..." he whispered. "That means—"
"They're at the fortress."
" The squad are in trouble." Han said.
Nathan cracked his gauntlets together with a thunderous clang, sparks flaring between his fists.
"This is it," he muttered. "We give it everything."
The others nodded grimly, readying themselves. Beside him, Aiden's arms shifted, metal rippling over his skin until they morphed into razor-sharp claws.
But the dark goblin on the throne didn't move.
Didn't even flinched.
It stared down at them with glowing red eyes, then muttered something in a guttural, alien tongue—words none of them understood, yet the contempt behind them was clear.
Nathan tensed. He's looking down on us... like we're insects.
With a growl, he prepared to charge—then stopped cold. A shiver ran down his spine.
Without thinking, Nathan threw his arm above his head.
A deafening clang rang out as his gauntlet blocked a blade from above, the impact forcing him back a few steps.
A dark goblin had appeared out of nowhere, landing gracefully in front of him.
Then—thud. Thud. Thud.
More landed. Dozens of them.
They had been hiding in the rafters.
Now, the room was filled with over twenty dark goblins, each exuding murderous intent. They formed a semi-circle around the group, their blades gleaming under the blue torchlight of the chamber. The throne goblin still hadn't moved—watching silently, like a predator toying with its prey.
"We lost three people just fighting three of these things and that was with superior numbers," one of the squad members whispered hoarsely.
"We're surrounded..." someone else muttered.
A chubby-cheeked man trembled and spoke up with the worst timing. "W-We're in trouble, aren't we?"
Nathan exhaled slowly, a grim smile tugging at his lips as he shook his head.
"No..." he muttered, glancing at the sealed door behind them—no backup, no escape.
Then, he looked at the encircling goblins and the ominous figure still seated on the throne, eyes burning like twin furnaces.
"...We're beyond trouble."
His voice dropped, filled with cold finality.
Before You Read On—Hear Me Out
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