Rocks fucking hurt. They hurt a bit less when they were thrown by a small creature with the strength of a nine-year-old child rather than when someone Brett's size was the one hucking them. That knowledge did little to soothe the bruise that was forming on his forehead, though. He did his best to block with one of the two slightly rusted blades in his hand, but he was too slow most of the time. 

While the shortswords felt better than the dagger in his hands and leagues better than the spear, they were still unfamiliar, which could be seen in his clunky movements. It felt right only when he was up close and personal with his opponents. Even then, it felt like several inches were missing from the ends of his blades.

Brett did his best to dodge the rocks the goblin was throwing to keep him off the one in front. At the same time, the one in front was blocking him from just charging the rock-throwing fucker and chopping his head off. He wasn't sure where the goblin was getting so many rocks to throw. It was probably some dungeon magic bullshit.

The goblin's strategy wasn't obvious either. Sure, Brett hadn't been able to stomp them like all the other guards he had come across so far, but it was not like they were doing him any actual harm. It would take a long time for them to stone him to death with just one attacker. If this had been their strategy the whole time, it might have been an issue more than an annoyance. 

As it was, Brett was pretty sure he could get both of them, but he might have to tank a few rocks hit closer than he would have liked. As he ducked under another rock, Brett decided he had had enough of trying to find a clever way through them. Unfurling from his crouch like a spring, he charged at the defending goblin. The goblins spear intercepted his left sword as it arced down, but that was all right - it was just a distraction from the right blade whistling in from the side that slammed under the green monster's arm.

Brett could feel ribs cave in as the sword tore through the torso and a thud as the blade lodged in the goblin's spine. A huge rock impacted his shoulder painfully. Spinning around the falling defender, Brett left his weapon in place and, a few steps later, shoved his free sword through the goblin's face. Its helmet provided no protection, flying off as the blade exiting the back of the skull knocked it loose. 

Would you like to be a Butcher?

Rubbing his bruised shoulder, Brett stepped back. Looking at the relatively small size of the two monsters, his sense of accomplishment diminished a little. But only a little. Sure, they are the size of kids, but it's a level 2 dungeon, and I don't even have a class! Brett told himself.

He looked at his two borrowed swords stuck in his opponents and decided to leave them there. The three carried by this group were the best he had found so far. They weren't chipped or notched at all.

***

After that encounter, at least three goblins guarded each of the doors he fought through. The first time had taught him a valuable lesson. Don't hesitate. To hesitate was to be hit with rocks. If he let the goblins form up first, the fight got much more challenging. So once he decided to engage, he would rush in and use overwhelming force and surprise to cut his enemies down before they were ready.

Brett knew this strategy was not only full of holes but also a likely way to meet an early death against any competent foe. But damn, does it feel good to be the terror on the battlefield. Brett thought as he finished another group of three. 

He now carried a sword in each hand, and the least rusted one was stuck through his belt. As he became more adept at hitting the spot he was aiming for, he broke the swords less frequently. Their better condition helped as well. As he explored, he started to find things besides just doors to seemingly empty tunnels. He could take more side passages; some just led to empty rooms. Fearing traps, Brett didn't go into them yet but took note on his mental map for later exportation.

The general direction that all the tunnels led was taking him in one direction. Even the ones that branched off and merged back in. At least, he assumed that was the case. There hadn't been any complex loops or changes in elevation with any of the paths he took. Maybe the dungeon is just messing with me, and my choices don't matter. If that was true, it wasn't a useful possibility to consider.

After the timer told him that he had been in the dungeon for more than two hours, the next group he came across contained four goblins. They were arranged in a sharp diamond pattern. Before they saw him, he checked his plan. How long can I make it if the groups keep getting larger each hour and this tunnel is endless? I can take three, but I don't know if my strategies will work with four even.

Despite his doubt, Brett knew he didn't have much time. They would smell him if he waited too long. Charging forward, he brought his swords up in a scything motion, cleaving the head clean off of one surprised goblin. The other little green monsters weren't very quick to react. It seems when there are more, they get even dumber. Brett thought. They weren't as slow as the first trio but somewhat slower than the last trio. 

Their slow reaction cost them another member as Brett front-kicked the falling goblin body into the group, charging in behind. Still using the surprise to kill the goblin the corps hadn't caught. With one hand, he cut its face; with his other blade, he blocked a slash at his gut from the goblin in the rear. Continuing his momentum cutting through the face, he batted away the knife. He lunged forward, with the other blade coming off the block to drive it through the goblin's chest. The goblin that had been knocked off its feet by the flying body of its comrade was only just recovering, but it didn't stand a chance one on one. Wow, I feel like a badass.