Helga ran and ran, her boots pounding against the stone floor, her warhammer swinging at her side. The tunnel twisted and turned, branching into passages she didn’t recognize, leading her deeper into darkness she couldn’t penetrate.

She could not find anywhere to hide.

The truth was simple and embarrassing: she was directionally challenged. Always had been. That was why she followed Kaelen in the first place. The reptile had an instinct for tunnels, a sixth sense for which path led where. He never got lost until today that is. Never hesitated. Never led them into dead ends that weren’t worth smashing through which made them the perfect team even though both were reckless.

But now he had been taken. Dragged into the darkness by that queen spider. And Helga had no choice but to find her own way out to warn the others.

Her grip tightened on her warhammer.

At least thanks to her unnatural strength, she didn’t have to worry too much about dead ends. Walls were just suggestions that she had no intention of listening to. Obstacles were just opportunities to flex her physical prowess.

She had begun smashing holes through whatever stood in her way—rock, rubble, even a thick patch of webbing that had tried to trap her.

She made her own path and just kept going and going and going.

The tunnel walls blurred around her. Sweat dripped down her forehead, stinging her eyes. Her braided beard bounced against her chest, the iron rings clinking with every step but she didn’t have a care in the world about these little details.

Not with what was at stake.

She had heard the chaos earlier. The screams, and the strange, inhuman shrieks that echoed through the stone. She didn’t know what had made them—goblins, spiders, or something worse. But she had heard them.

And now, the tunnels were silent.

Too silent for her liking because there was a chance the others had been killed.

Helga slowed to a jog, then a walk, then a stop. She leaned against the wall, her chest heaving, her ears straining for any sound.

But she couldn’t hear anything.

She had no idea if she was the only one here anymore. No idea if Jason and his crew were still alive. No idea if Mira was still breathing but she knew one thing for certain, no one was coming to save them.

So she began to scream.

"MIRA!"

Her voice echoed off the walls, bouncing back at her from multiple directions.

"MIRA! CAN YOU HEAR ME?!"

But all that met her was silence, there was a strong possibility that something else would answer her call but it was worth the risk.

Helga kissed her teeth and kept walking. Jason and his crew were not her priority. They never had been. She had agreed to let them tag along because Kaelen wanted it, because Mira had sponsored the little meat, because the wolf and the elf and the cow were just... there.

But she didn’t owe them anything.

Which was why screaming for Mira was the first thing she did. Not Jason, not Ylva but Mira. Her guildmate and her friend. The only person in this cursed tunnel who mattered right now.

"MIRA!" 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝔀𝓮𝒃𝙣𝓸𝒗𝒆𝒍.𝙘𝒐𝒎

Still nothing.

Helga growled and slammed her warhammer into the wall. The stone cracked, then crumbled, revealing another passage beyond. She stepped through and kept moving.

Eventually, she ran into a room.

Not a cavern, or a tunnel but a room. Carved out of the stone, with rough walls and a low ceiling. The air was thick, hot, and smelled of sweat and old meat.

Torches flickered in iron sconces along the walls, casting dancing shadows across the floor.

And in the center of the room, staring at her, were the goblins.

Over a dozen of them.

Not the goblins they had expected to find in this cave—the small, stupid, easily crushed insects that Kaelen had killed countless in the past. These were different. Larger. Their skin was a deeper green, their eyes brighter, their teeth sharper like they were more feral.

They had been waiting for something.

Helga froze in the doorway.

The goblins turned toward her, one by one. Their lips curled back, revealing rows of yellow, pointed teeth. Their eyes gleamed with something that made Helga’s stomach turn.

There was only one thing on their minds.

That was to strip her and breed with her forcefully.

Helga raised her warhammer ready to defend herself.

"Shit," she said.

And the goblins smiled with a visible bulge in all their ragged trousers.

Helga did not know what to do at first as this was a situation that was the least urgent.

She stood in the doorway, her warhammer raised, her dark eyes scanning the room. Over a dozen goblins stared back at her, their yellow eyes gleaming in the torchlight, their sharp teeth bared in sickening smiles.

She was more or less the same size as an average goblin. Maybe a hair shorter or maybe a hair wider. But standing in that doorway, surrounded by enemies who looked like twisted mirrors of her own stocky frame, she felt something she hadn’t felt in years.

Uncertainty.

The goblins didn’t charge. Not yet. They circled instead, their bare feet scraping against the stone floor, their claws twitching at their sides. They were testing her. Watching her. Waiting for her to make the first move like they had rehearsed this move.

But Helga wasn’t scared, this was the single miscalculation of these creatures.

She was strong. Physically strong. Stronger than anything this dungeon could throw at her combined with her weapon. Her muscles were cords of iron beneath her leather armor. Her bones were dense, forged by centuries of combat and hard living.

And her weapon—her beautiful, crackling warhammer—allowed her to use a form of magic. Lightning danced along its head, arcs of blue and white that hissed and popped in the stale air.

She was leagues above these goblins.

The first one charged.

It was fast—faster than she expected—its claws outstretched, its mouth open, its yellow teeth aiming for her throat.

Helga swung.

Her warhammer connected with the goblin’s chest, and the lightning did the rest. The creature’s body convulsed once, twice, then exploded outward in a spray of green blood and blackened flesh. Chunks of meat flew across the room like shrapnel, splattering against the walls and the remaining goblins.

The goblins in front—those in close proximity—caught the worst of it. Shards of bone embedded in their skin. Hot blood blinded their eyes. The shockwave from the impact knocked several of them off their feet.

They died instantly. Not from the hammer. From the aftermath.

Helga didn’t wait.

She smashed the ground aggressively with her hammer, driving the head into the stone floor. The lightning erupted outward in a radial blast, sending cracks spiderwebbing across the room. Debris flew like bullets—sharp, fast, deadly. A chunk of rock caught a goblin in the skull, caving in its face. Another tore through a goblin’s chest, sending it crumpling to the ground.

The remaining goblins backed up.

Their yellow eyes widened. Their claws trembled. Their heads dropped, chin to chest, as they began to shake violently. Some whimpered. Others made soft, keening sounds that reminded Helga of wounded animals.

She knew that goblins were cowards. Especially when they were not in large numbers. Their strength was in their numbers—dozens, hundreds, thousands. Alone or in small groups, they were not a threat. They were prey.

Helga took a step forward.

The goblins took two steps back.

She raised her hammer again, aiming for the cluster of cowards huddled against the far wall. They deserved it. Every single one of them. They would kill her if they could. They would eat her if they had the chance.

They would rape her if they could.

But as she brought the hammer down—

CRACK.

The ceiling split before it could make contact.

Not from her strike. From the accumulated damage. The vibrations. The lightning. The repeated impacts that had weakened the stone above.

Helga froze.

The cave began to shake as dust rained down from above. Small rocks bounced off the top of her head. A deep, rumbling groan echoed through the chamber—the sound of stone crying out in protest.

Helga looked up and instantly knew she had overdone it.

Cracks were spreading across the ceiling, branching out like rivers on a map. Some were thin, barely visible. Others were thick enough to fit her fist. And in the center, where her lightning had struck the ground most violently, a dark seam was forming.

She had overestimated the sturdineas of this cave and was facing the repercussions in real time.

The cave was about to come down.

Helga’s eyes went wide. Her heart, which had been steady through the fight, began to pound.

"Shit," she muttered.

She turned, and exited the room right away.

Behind her, the goblins stopped shaking. Their heads lifted. Their eyes followed her.

And then the ceiling collapsed.