Chapter 4: Third component
Leon's legs felt like rubber as he trudged up the staircase behind Saria, the weight of the dagger in his hand a constant reminder of the goblin's blood still clinging to its blade.
The inky sensation from the kill lingered in his arm, a cold, crawling energy that made his skin prickle.
His heart hadn't stopped racing since the basement, and the vision's demonic laughter echoed in his mind, mixing with the fear that he was still, undeniably, in way over his head.
I just killed something, he thought, his stomach churning.
Me. The guy who cried over a dead snail.
He wanted to be the hero he'd always dreamed of, but right now, he felt like a fraud in a fantasy world he barely understood.
Saria led the way, her black ponytail swaying with each step, her leather tunic hugging her curves in a way that made Leon's already frazzled brain struggle to focus.
Her face remained an unreadable mask, her dark eyes fixed ahead, unaffected by the stench of the basement or the weight of what they'd just done.
Granny Elda trailed behind, her staff tapping the stone, her cackles echoing like a bad omen.