Steve remained utterly still, his heart hammering in his chest. Across a ghastly space that felt both intimate and endless, his wide eyes locked onto the ghost before him.
Alive-eyed and terrified, he stared into the hollow sockets of that skull‑like face—unblinking, unrelenting.
Then, from the pale form that drifted just beyond his reach, came a hollow whisper:
"You… you understand now, do you?"
Time froze. Steve's jaw tightened. His throat clenched. But suddenly, his eyes flickered—like frantic lights, darting side to side, as though desperate to see beyond this moment. His voice came sharp, breathless.
"What is it? Is it… Is it the goblin clan? How many goblins are there? Two? A dozen? Where...Where are they?"
A pulse of panic surged through him.
'I'm not going to die here. Most definitely not.'
He gripped the hilt of his daggers with trembling fingers, bracing for a hail of violence.
A murmur from the ghost. Something measured. Low. Calm.
"Hold your panties, boy."
