The final day before the raid blurred past in a frenzy of activity. We rushed through as many grinding sessions as possible, managing to complete five runs over the course of the day. Edward and Mathews were conspicuously absent, leaving the rest of his men to take charge. Their exhaustion was beginning to show. Many resorted to shouting and outright bullying to keep people hustling and meeting the deadline. I hated the approach, but I couldn’t argue with the results. Despite my frustration, I focused on helping the players running missions. They needed me more.


    I made a conscious effort to stay present, but my mind kept drifting back to the night before. No matter how much I tried to focus, the memory gnawed at the edges of my thoughts.


    The first thing I did when I woke up was check my notifications. There, sitting at the top of the list, was the achievement from last night—different from all the others in one unsettling way.


    Samantha’s voice had read it aloud to me.


    <hr>


    Achievement:


    Overindulgence


    Description:


    Three hits, huh? Looks like someone just couldn’t get enough. You’ve pushed past the boundaries of normal consumption and started to discover just how deep the rabbit hole goes. Let’s hope you can crawl back out.


    Reward:


    <ul>


    <li>Increased Dependency! Yay!</li>


    <li>You have been awarded the boon: "Never Gonna Give You Up."</li>


    </ul>


    <hr>


    I didn’t keep it to myself. Over breakfast, I told Sharla and Milli. Neither of them took it well—understandably so. The implications were unsettling, but to their credit, they held back any outright criticism, though I could see the concern written across their faces.


    The boon itself didn’t come with any additional explanation. When I tried to inspect it, all I got was this:


    <hr>


    Boon:


    Never Gonna Give You Up


    Activation:


    Conditional


    <hr>


    No details. No description. Nothing to explain what "conditional" meant.


    After some deliberation, we threw it in the ever-growing “problems for later” bucket. Without an immediate downside, there wasn’t much else we could do. That evening, we pored over the plan again and again. First, in the tavern with the ‘officers’—players who led particularly strong parties—and later back at the apartment with Josh, Fiona, and Andrew. Louis returned after a long absence, looking uncharacteristically melancholic, as if he had just said goodbye to an old friend. He climbed into Milli’s lap and curled up, his soft, mournful sighs punctuating the quiet moments as she stroked his fur with gentle care.


    The strategy was straightforward but risky: two fronts. Edward and his men would stage a frontal assault, drawing the bulk of the goblin forces toward them. Meanwhile, our team would slip around the back to cut the head off the snake. The success of the plan hinged on timing and coordination—and a few assumptions. Milli had worked closely with Edward to refine the approach, though she made it clear she didn’t want to give up first dibs on the loot.


    “Let him keep the grunts busy,” she’d said earlier. “We’ll take care of what actually matters.”


    The attack was scheduled for an hour after dawn. Goblins were nocturnal, and we reasoned the early morning hours would leave them at their most vulnerable. The six of us retired early, knowing we would need to wake several hours before sunrise to clear the approach. We woke in silence, ate a quick meal, and met Edward’s men. If Edward had ordered them to be uncooperative, you couldn’t tell. They greeted us warmly, their upbeat attitudes a sharp contrast to the tension in the air.


    Five of his men accompanied us: two specialists in trap disposal and three for muscle. Heading into the forest while it was still dark was a dangerous prospect. The moonlit hours brought out all manner of beasts, making every shadow a potential threat. Fiona’s light spell became our guide, a softly glowing orb that floated above us, casting a dim glow.


    One of Edward’s men, a crossbow-wielding fighter with chestnut hair and freckled skin, spoke up. “Raise it higher, and make it as bright as possible.”


    Andrew bristled. “Are you insane? That’ll make us sitting ducks!”


    The man smiled disarmingly, his slight lisp adding an odd charm to his response. “We’re already sitting ducks. They can see us; we can’t see them. If they’re watching me, I want to make sure they know I’m watching them right back.”


    Andrew relented, and Fiona raised the orb high into the air. It ballooned to the size of a beach ball, flooding a 50-foot radius with brilliant light. A group of feral goblins lurking in the shadows flinched and scattered, blinded by the sudden illumination.


    I was stunned by how effortlessly Fiona maintained the spell, her concentration unbroken as we pushed forward. The bright sphere lit our way until we reached the first traps. With nowhere to hide in the tree line, the goblin archers had retreated further up the path. Working alongside the trap specialists, I used my Find Flaw skill to point them out as soon as they were highlighted.


    As the tips of the massive circus tent began to peek through the trees, we dimmed the light to a manageable glow. Dawn had begun to break, and the pinstripe-clad goblins’ numbers were noticeably thinning. They had been watching us from behind the tree line but didn’t engage without the element of surprise on their side. Josh, Andrew, Sharla, and the three fighters split into two teams, moving carefully through the forest.


    Milli’s latest gadget—a flash grenade in the form of a small ball—proved invaluable. It burned as brightly as a magnesium flare for about a minute, and the teams used them to devastating effect. Goblins caught in the flash were temporarily blinded, leaving them vulnerable to swift take-downs. The strategy worked like a charm, and the remining goblins quickly retreated behind the chain-link fences, posting up sentries instead of engaging head-on.


    The resistance was lighter than I’d expected, but the sense of foreboding only deepened as we drew closer to the circus tent. We pushed up to only about 10 metres from the ticket booth, we had to fight tooth and nail for every meter up to that point and eventually retreated to the fallback point to meet up with the main force. They arrived like clockwork and set straight to the task at hand, archers and ranged magic users peppered the chain-link fence and the archers positioned atop them.


    The field engineering unit rushed forward with practiced precision, slamming spiked barricades into the ground in staggered lines. The setup formed a zigzag path that provided clear lines of sight for our archers while forcing the goblins coming up the path to filter through slowly. Each barricade was a metal fence section with two prominent forward-facing spikes and a V-legged kickstand that swung down to support its weight.


    I’d stopped to watch them drill this manoeuvre earlier, impressed by their efficiency. In less than thirty seconds, they could remove it to allow melee units to advance, and slam it back into place to secure newly won ground. The action was seamless, methodical, and brutally effective.


    As soon as the first barricade hit the ground, a gate beside the turnstiles swung open with a jarring creak. A flood of colour spilled out—a chaotic torrent of goblins clad in garish yellows, reds and blues. They charged forward, wielding oversized clown hammers, acid-filled water balloons, and brightly coloured crossbows that resembled children’s toys.


    Our ranged units wasted no time. Arrows and bolts rained down on the advancing horde, thinning their ranks with devastating efficiency. Goblin archers climbed onto sentry towers, woefully exposed, were easy pickings. As one fell another took its place, even with the number advantage they were incapable of providing any cover fire.


    The main wave smashed into the spiked barricades, their momentum working against them as they impaled themselves on the steel points. Ranged attacks from our backline rained down relentlessly, coordinated by spotters positioned among the front lines. Every missile found its mark, guided with precision that turned the chaotic battlefield into a controlled slaughter.


    Once we captured the gate, the engineering unit moved swiftly again. Lightweight, fortified platforms were erected on either side, complete with murder holes that allowed archers to fire directly into the goblin ranks. The barricades held firm, and the flow of goblins slowed to a trickle, like a surgeon expertly stitching a severed artery.


    But the goblins weren’t done. A group tried to flank us through the tree line. Our response was immediate. Players hurled firebombs into the underbrush, the flames roaring to life and engulfing the goblins in a fiery blaze. The inferno created an impenetrable wall of heat and smoke, making further attempts at a side attack impossible for the moment.


    The kill box was set, and the goblins were trapped.


    Our infiltration team slipped into the forest behind our lines, moving in a wide arc toward the residential area. The goblins were cowering inside their crude homes, their terrified wails mixing with the sounds of the battle. Milli tossed a small metallic ball into the courtyard, and it erupted into a cloud of smoke. The goblins’ screams of fear filled the air as we breached the flimsy fence. The smoke bombs used a flour like substance that hung in the air and coated every surface it settled on.


    Ignoring the panicked creatures scrambling for cover, we sprinted toward the building leading to the tent. Inside, the atmosphere changed immediately—it felt like stepping into a decrepit arcade mall. The ceiling pressed down just two meters above us, it was stifling, though the hallway was wide enough for four people to walk side by side. The walls were haphazardly constructed from mismatched slabs of wood, plastered with faded posters of Nobblehob’s grotesque face. Some had crude graffiti scrawled over them, mocking or defacing their leader. The uneven floor beneath us creaked ominously, threatening to give way with every step.


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    From the cloth-covered doorways lining the space, six goblins jumped out, snarling and screeching. They wore tattered circus clothes smeared with grime, and their faces were painted with crude, streaky white paint, enhancing their already hideous features.


    “Get fuck out of house!” one of them shrieked in broken English, brandishing a kitchen knife as it lunged at me.


    I deflected the clumsy attack with my staff, swinging it around in a follow up attack. The metal collided with its head with a sickening crunch, the impact sending a spray of gore and bone fragments across the wooden floor. The goblin crumpled instantly, its grotesque features frozen in a rictus of rage.


    Another goblin leapt at Sharla, aiming for her head, but she raised her shield in time to catch it mid-air. With a quick, practised motion, she threw it back into the cluster of goblins behind it, scattering them like bowling pins. Milli and Andrew took careful potshots, their precision keeping the goblins pinned without risking a friendly fire incident. Each of their projectiles was enhanced by Josh’s buffs, crackling with elemental energy as they found their targets. Fiona stood at the centre of the group, chanting a unintelligible hymn that wrapped us in a subtle glow, bolstering our stamina and healing our minor wounds.


    We cut through the goblins with ruthless efficiency. Those that survived scrambled back into their homes, shielding their children and infants. None of us had the will—or the stomach—to slaughter them. We were here to do a job, not commit a massacre.


    At the end of the hallway stood a pair of imposing double doors. Pushing through, we entered a large mess hall. The room was segmented by long, crude benches piled high with food, much of it rotten. Half-eaten scraps spilled onto the floor, which was a matted, sticky carpet of spoiled leftovers and dark, dried filth. The stench was unbearable—like sticking my head into a sun-baked dumpster. I pulled my scarf over my nose, but it wasn’t enough. The sour, putrid odour found its way into my mouth and nose, making me gag.


    On the walls, more double doors led deeper into the compound. The sound of a distant explosion made me pause, and I wondered if it had come from our side or theirs. Haunting calliope music drifted faintly from somewhere ahead, a discordant melody that sent chills down my spine as we crept further into the hall.


    It was then that I noticed the unmistakable remains of players among the piles of food. Bones stripped of flesh jutted from the grotesque heaps, and bits of armour, stained with dark, crusted blood, lay scattered like discarded toys. My stomach churned violently, and I barely managed to pull my scarf down in time before vomiting onto the floor. The taste filled my mouth as I retched again, my body shaking. The ground beneath my feet crunched softly, the dried remains of... something cracking under my weight.


    I bit down on my tongue hard enough to draw blood, forcing the nausea down. My heartbeat thundered in my ears, but I steadied myself. There was no time for weakness now.


    “We need to keep moving,” Sharla said softly, her voice barely audible over the music and the pounding in my head. I nodded, wiping my mouth and tightening my grip on my staff.


    Before we could take another step, the doors behind us burst open, and a gaggle of goblins poured into the hallway, snarling and screeching. Without hesitation, we sprinted for the doors leading deeper into the tent. Milli lobbed her frost bomb into the oncoming wave. It detonated mid-air, instantly freezing the goblins in place. Their faces were locked in vicious snarls, their green skin blackened with frostbite. A frigid wave of air rushed past us, and I shivered involuntarily.


    The doors led to a long, narrow corridor lined with dressing room doors. Each was adorned with a star and scribbled text in Goblinese. The makeshift signs denoted different circus acts.


    <hr>


    Ryan:


    The doors say acrobats, strongmen, tamers, and service.


    <hr>


    Since I was the only one who could read the language, it was up to me to provide translations as we navigated the maze-like interior. At the end of the hallway stood another set of double doors, larger and more ornate than the rest. Above them, scrawled in large, jagged letters, were the words "Main Stage."


    We moved cautiously down the cramped corridor, the fetid stench of the mess hall clinging to the air. The hallway was just wide enough to stand two abreast, so we formed up into three rows: Sharla and Milli at the front, Josh and Fiona in the middle, and Andrew and me bringing up the rear.


    Milli readied a smoke bomb as Sharla cracked the door open just wide enough for her to toss it inside. She tossed it inside and a dense cloud of smoke billowed out as Milli followed up with a flash bomb. The blinding flash was accompanied by panicked shrieks from the other side, confirming that the room was packed with enemies. Judging by the sheer volume of noise, there had to be at least three dozen goblins inside—and something much, much larger, growling deeply amidst the chaos.


    I pushed forward, pulling a small can of deodorant from my inventory. It was one of the first rewards I’d earned, and I’d discovered that removing the cap exposed a plastic stem highlighted by my Find Flaw skill.


    “Josh, Milli, fireball—hit it when it lands!” I said, tossing the can into the room.


    Josh ignited Milli''s projectile with a quick spell, and she launched it with precision, her crosse hurtling the fiery object forward. The deodorant can struck the ground, erupting into a massive fireball. The smoke bomb caught fire in the process, and we were completely unprepared for the resulting explosion. The doors slammed open with a concussive blast, and flames licked through the gap. Milli’s hair singed, and the exposed parts of my face stung with burns, though my enhanced healing quickly repaired the damage.


    The shrieking and roaring from the room reached a fever pitch before starting to fade. After a tense moment, we cautiously opened the door.


    Inside was chaos. The sprawling main stage was divided into several performance areas, each one partially or fully ablaze. Wooden fences painted with faded blue, red, and white triangles surrounded the stages, were scorched and crumbling.


    The Strongman Stage was littered with oversized weights and props. At its centre, an ogre rolled on the ground, its entire body engulfed in flames as it desperately tried to extinguish itself.


    The Acrobat Stage was a hellish scene of burning trapezes and collapsing tightropes. Goblins fell from the heights like flaming comets, crashing to the ground with wet thuds.


    The Tamer Arena, encased in a chain-link fence painted to appear invisible, held two massive bears, each the size of an SUV. Their fur had burned away, revealing blistered, raw flesh as they pawed at the flames in agony.


    The grandstands were entirely aflame, collapsing rapidly and crushing dozens of goblin spectators who had been caught in the blaze. The stench of burnt flesh and wood hung in the air, acrid and nauseating.


    Amidst the destruction, one figure remained standing: the ringmaster. His once-dapper outfit was mostly burned away, but he seemed unbothered. He downed a glowing potion in one gulp, and the burns covering his body healed instantly. He smashed the empty bottle against the floor, his tiny frame trembling as his skin rippled unnaturally. Then, he threw his head back and roared—a sound impossibly loud for such a small creature. The force of it rattled my chest and set my ears ringing.


    Before we could process what was happening, the doors behind us burst open again. Goblins spilled out of the performers’ dressing rooms, screaming and brandishing makeshift weapons.


    “Fuck,” I muttered, gripping my staff tighter.


    Sharla sent a message to the group,


    <hr>


    Sharla:


    Ryan and Andrew, plan B, you two cover our asses, rest of you with me.


    <hr>


    Andrew and I spun to face the advancing goblins. Without hesitation, I surged forward, activating the pointed spear tip on my multi-tool. I unleashed a flurry of thrusts, each one striking true, while Andrew fired arrow after arrow with deadly accuracy. Goblins dropped like sacks of stones, but more poured out from the rooms, an unrelenting tide of snarling green.


    Behind me, I heard the clash of battle as the rest of our party engaged what remained of the main act. The explosion had done much of the work, but not enough to finish the job. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the doors to the mess hall begin to creak open. Something was stirring on the other side.


    Without thinking, I sprinted toward them, leaping over a group of goblins that clawed at my legs as I passed. In midair, I pulled out my unaltered staff. I slammed into the doors with all my weight, feeling something heavy fall back on the other side. Quickly, I fed the metal rod through the door handles and pressed the button to extend it. The staff wedged tightly against the doorjamb, locking the doors shut.


    Before I could catch my breath, two goblins leapt onto my back, their sharp claws raking at my face. I felt one swipe dangerously close to my eye. A sharp impact, and the weight of one was gone—a clean arrow through its head. Andrew’s aim was as reliable as ever. I reached up, shortening my spear and jamming it into the second goblin’s chest. It fell limp as I ripped the blade free.


    Milli’s scream pierced the cacophony of battle, a sound so raw it froze my blood. I glanced at Andrew—his expression torn between holding the hallway and rushing to help the others. Behind him, the doors to the main stage hung ajar.


    About fifteen goblins remained in the corridor, the flood finally abating from the rooms.


    "Go!" I shouted at him. "I''ll deal with these ones!"


    He hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding and sprinting through the doors. As he disappeared, I caught a brief glimpse of Nobblehob, who was now a grotesque misshapen mass. His body had swelled to twice its size, muscles rippling unnaturally under neon-blue veins. He loomed over Milli, who lay on her back, defenceless.


    An arrow struck Nobblehob square in the chest, and he staggered backward, but I had no time to see more as the goblins in the hallway surged forward, screeching in unison.


    I spun my staff into a high arc, preparing the windmill defence, but the narrow hallway betrayed me. The staff struck the wall with a loud crack, jarring my grip.


    A goblin slammed into me, almost knocking me off balance. Growling, I grabbed it by the throat and hurled it back into the oncoming horde, knocking a handful to the floor. I shortened my spear to as small as I could, mindful of the system’s classification rules, and charged forward.


    Another goblin lunged for me, and I skewered it midair. With a heave, I sent its lifeless body flying off the blade. Pivoting, I swung the spear in a sweeping arc, the edge slicing through two more goblins. Their bellies split open, spilling entrails across the uneven floor.


    I pressed forward relentlessly, my spear a blur of jabs and slashes. One by one, the goblins fell, reduced to broken, twitching heaps on the blood-slick floor.


    Finally, only one remained. Its yellow eyes locked on mine as we watched each other. I tried to lung but before I could strike, the door behind me crashed open with a thunderous bang.


    The impact hit me square in the back, sending me hurtling forward. I crashed into the last goblin, pinning it under my weight as we slammed into the ground. I whipped around, expecting a flood of goblins to pour through the door.


    Instead, standing there like a spectre of death, was Captain Mathews.


    His dead, expressionless eyes locked onto mine.


    “Captain,” I began, extending a hand for help.


    He ignored it.


    He took in the hallway, scanning each of the entrances. He was covered in gore, looking like he had been bathed in viscera.


    Without a word, his massive hand shot out and clamped around my throat. I barely had time to react before I was yanked off the ground with a grunt of effort. His grip was like iron. I clawed at his arm, but my nails scraped uselessly against his skin, as if trying to scratch sheet metal. My lungs burned, my head throbbed, and pressure built behind my eyes, threatening to burst.


    I tried to cry out, but only a strangled gurgle escaped. My vision blurred, and a red haze crept in from the edges. Impassively, Mathews sheathed his blade and twisted me into a headlock, wrenching my neck at an unnatural angle. I thrashed violently, but my feet dangled helplessly, unable to find purchase. The throbbing in my skull became unbearable, like a balloon filled past its limit, ready to pop.


    And then something did.


    A wet, sickening burst.


    Warmth splattered against my cheek, and my right eye went dark. My entire interface flooded red. Over the pounding in my ears, I heard Mathews grunt—then a loud, final crack.


    Everything stopped. My body went limp. Feeling drained away like water slipping through my fingers.


    With a shift of his stance, Mathews heaved me through the air. I crashed through one of the flimsy performer’s doors, hitting the ground hard in a tangle of shattered furniture and discarded props.


    I lay there, dying.


    I couldn''t see. I couldn''t hear. My body was gone, erased from sensation. My interface had vanished. Yet, strangely, I felt calm.


    The others will be okay.


    Sharla will look after them.


    The detachment was eerily familiar—like Samantha’s Kiss, but somehow softer. More peaceful.


    And, as if summoned by my thoughts, her voice coiled around me like silk.


    "Oh, my poor sweet baby… look what he’s done to you."


    I almost laughed. Was she really going to be the last voice I heard?


    Well… better than Mathews, I supposed.


    "I wasn’t expecting to have to do this so soon, but I can’t have you leaving before the real fun begins."