Insanity

(AN - Listen to "The only thing they fear is you" as you read for maximum immersion.)

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The blueish light of the dungeon, normally a stagnant glow, seemed to quicken its pace in my vision.

It wasn't a true flicker, but rather a frantic dance, the shadows on the cavern walls jittering like marionettes in a panicked puppeteer's show.

It was as if the stale air itself could sense the coming carnage.

It didn't matter.

I stood ready, my eyes wild and bloodshot, muscles coiled like steel springs.

The horde approached—a seething mass of green goblins and snarling kobolds.

They were tired, that was for sure. How could they not be, when even I was gasping for breath a tiny bit?

Alas, their eyes still glinted with hunger, claws, and teeth ready to tear flesh.

But I cared not for their numbers.

My heart pounded in my chest, a thunderous rhythm that drowned out all other sounds. I flexed my scarred knuckles, the skin stretched tight over bone.

My breath came in ragged bursts, and I almost tasted the metallic tang of blood on my tongue.

I would show them what true hunger meant.

The first goblin lunged, its claws slashing through the air. I sidestepped, my bare feet scraping against the stone floor.

Silently, I swung my fist—a brutal arc that shattered the goblin's jaw. Its body crumpled, and I moved on.

Another vegetable darted forward, its claws aiming for my legs.

But I was no lumbering giant.

With lightning reflexes, I twisted my body, avoiding the strike.

Then, I lunged.

My fingers found the goblin's throat, and I squeezed. Bones cracked, and the creature's eyes bulged. But it was not enough.

The goblin's claws raked across my calf, slightly penetrating my skin.

Blood flowed, but my smile widened.

I sank my teeth into the goblin's shoulder, tearing muscle and sinew.

The taste was foul as always, but it fueled me, it healed me—the pain in my leg fading as I devoured the creature's flesh.

Six others surged at me—a writhing mass of green flesh.

Their claws scraped against my skin, their teeth snapping like hungry wolves.

But I was no prey.

One lunged, as they were always keen to do, and I met it head-on.

My palm slammed into its chest, the force of my shove sending it sprawling. It crashed into its companions and then onto the cold stone floor, coughing blood like a collapsing sewer grate.

I grinned—a feral, blood-smeared grin—as I pushed forward.

Each goblin that came too close met my wrath—a powerful kick or swipe of my claws to keep them at bay.

Even through the haze of hunger attempting to cloud my rationality, I couldn't allow myself to be tackled to the ground.

As if reading my thoughts, one of the little bastards tackled my leg—a desperate move.

But I didn't panic. Instead, I stomped down—hard. Bones crunched beneath my heel, and the goblin yelped.

Its grip loosened, and I used the momentum to my advantage.

With a primal roar, I shoved it aside. Then, I spun and delivered a kick that sent it sprawling.

'Space created. Balance regained'

I knew death meant nothing to them, but pain? Pain was their Achilles' heel.

Not even the Dungeon's brainwashing could completely overwrite their survival instincts when faced with debilitating pain, as I had discovered.

So, I aimed for debilitating strikes.

Elbows, knees, the base of their skulls—all fair game.

My claws tore through their flesh, and they screamed.

I reveled in it—their agony fueling my hunger, as I bit into their flesh as much as they bit into mine.

And when they lunged, I met them with powerful punches to the temple.

They dropped like sacks of rotten potatoes.

The kobolds took the opportunity to finally arrive, circling me as I finished off the fastest goblins.

Their yellow eyes gleamed with ferocity in the dim lighting of the dungeon, tongues lolling, breaths coming in ragged gasps, yet ready to bring me down or die trying.

I merely allowed my grin to widen.

I ducked under the first lunging kobold, my fingers closing around its throat.

I squeezed, feeling the bones crack beneath my grip. Then I hurled the creature into its companions, knocking them off balance.

Another Kob, a wiry, sinewy thing, leaped at my throat.

Its teeth snapped, inches from my jugular.

But I twisted, my elbow smashing into the creature's jaw.

It staggered, I did not.

My claws pierced through its neck like a warm knife through butter, grabbing its bony spine.

The kobold's eyes bulged, and its claws scrabbled at my face.

But I was relentless.

I tore the creature's head from its body, blood spraying across my face.

And then, I bit into its chest—the taste of desperation flooding my senses.

And yet, the monsters kept on coming.

More goblins swarmed me, their claws tearing at my flesh.

One lunged, aiming for my eyes, but I caught its wrist, twisting.

Bones snapped, and the goblin screamed.

One of them hesitated—a fatal mistake.

My other hand closed around its ankle. I yanked, and the goblin crashed to the ground.

Then, I straddled it, my fingers digging into its shoulder.

Roaring, I ripped its arm from its socket. The goblin wailed, blood spurting.

I tore into the severed limb, my teeth grinding bone.

The hunger was sated a tiny bit more, and this was all that mattered.

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Blood flowed freely from my wounds, but I felt no pain. I laughed—a mad, feral sound—as I spun, my fists and elbows crashing into my attackers.

More bones snapped, more bodies crumpled.

The ground was slick with blood.

And then, a kobold leaped onto my back, its teeth sinking into my shoulder. I howled, my vision blurring.

But I didn't falter. I reached back, my fingers finding the creature's head. With a sickening twist, I snapped its neck.

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I stood amidst the chaos—a maelstrom of claws, teeth, and blood.

The creatures lunged, their eyes filled with hunger, their forms twisted and grotesque.

But I was no ordinary warrior, not anymore.

As their claws raked across my skin, pain flared—a searing, exquisite agony that should have brought me to my knees.

But instead, I laughed.

A laugh that bubbled up from the depths of my soul—a primal, unholy sound that echoed through the Dungeon like a curse.

I laughed as their claws tore into my flesh. I laughed as their teeth sank into my shoulder, my side, my thigh.

Each wound was a symphony—a crescendo of pain that fueled my hunger.

And still, I fought.

My fists were blurs, my movements wild and unpredictable. I tore into the monsters—their limbs snapping, their bodies shattering.

But they kept coming.

They were relentless, and so was I.

Their roars filled the cave—their rage, their hunger.

But beneath it all, my laughter rang out. It was a defiance—a mockery of death itself.

I spat blood in their faces, relishing the taste.

The berserker—the madman—was born in that cave.

I was no longer a man. I was a force of nature—a storm of teeth and claws.

And as the monsters fell, one by one, I laughed.

I laughed until my throat was raw.

At some point, some backed away, a tiny bit of fear growing in their eyes.

It made no difference.

I lunged, my teeth sinking into a goblin's throat.

I tore at the flesh, warm blood filling my mouth.

The taste was now intoxicating—the sweet, salty flavor of victory.

I swallowed the torn flesh and turned to face the remaining nutrients.

I waded into them, my fists a blur.

Minutes passed and the first floor became a graveyard of broken forms.

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And then, silence...

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The last goblin lay at my feet, its lifeblood seeping onto the cold stone floor.

I stood, panting, my body covered in gore.

My wounds throbbed, but I felt alive—more alive than ever before.

I sank to my knees, my hands trembling.

The hunger was still there, though, the tiny bites I'd gotten in during the fight nowhere near enough.

I crawled to the nearest corpse—a kobold with matted fur—and sank my teeth into its flesh.

Bit by bit, bite by bite, some of the wounds closed, and strength surged through my veins.

I wiped blood from my lips, my chest still heaving.

Slowly, painfully, I rose, my vision swimming with exertion.

My eyes scanned the bodies scattered like grotesque confetti across the battlefield.

A metallic tang filled my nostrils as I began walking through the carnage, wading through a sea of crumpled limbs and lifeless stares.

Finally, I stopped in front of a broken form, a kobold a tad bigger than the others.

Life had long since fled its wiry frame, replaced by a stillness.

Its leathery hide, once a mottled grey was now marred by a crimson stain that blossomed outwards from a fist-sized hole punched clean through its chest.

Its glassy eyes, bulging from their sockets, stared sightlessly ahead, a grotesque caricature of defiance in death.

The remnants of a snarl, frozen mid-yell, remained etched on its face.

With a kick, it got thrown aside, and I was greeted by a whimper coming from the tiny creature hiding underneath the corpse.

"Well well well...what do we have here?"

My words were a mere whisper.

Each word felt like sandpaper on raw flesh, a consequence of the roaring and laughing that had fueled my earlier rampage.

It wasn't much of a threat, more like a rusty hinge groaning.

Alas, the creature's tiny squeaks grew louder.

Big, tears welled up in its yellow eyes, threatening to fall down its face like an overflowing cup.

'Now now, what should I do with you...'

Despite the throbbing ache in my every muscle, a grin split my face once more as I watched the clearly sentient goblin sitting in front of me.