Glitching Guard

Boar Den West. He was really here now, standing right at the edge, staring into the dark cave mouth. It was just a hole in the rocks, dark and shadowed. Boars moved around in front of it, grunting low in their chests, their tusks catching the dim light as they shifted. The smell of them hit him hard now, thick and musky in the air, a mix of dirt and something wild, something almost rotten.

His heart slammed against his ribs. Not a real heart, of course, but deep inside, something in his code raced like a trapped animal. Fear. That was it. Real fear, maybe for the first time. He was about to do something unbelievably stupid, something utterly crazy. Something that guards, the real guards, just never did.

He was going to fight a monster. On purpose. And he was going to do it alone.

He tightened his grip on his spear. It was a busted thing, barely held together, patched up with scavenged scraps. Not much of a weapon to face a boar, not really. Players had these huge swords, massive axes, and blasts of magic. He had this weak spear, and some moves he'd copied by watching them fight. Clumsy moves, probably, not nearly enough.

He could still turn back. Just walk away. Go back to the West Gate, pretend none of this ever happened. No one would know he'd even come out here. No one would care. He could just maintain his post, say his lines, be safe, and be a normal guard again.

But the thought of going back felt wrong now, hollow and empty. It felt like trying to fall back asleep after waking up from a long dream. He'd seen too much, felt too much, learned too much. He just couldn't go back to being nothing now. Not after all of that.

He had to try this. He had to try, just once. Just one boar. Like he'd promised himself. Pick one, the weakest-looking one if he could find it, and just test himself. Learn something, or die trying. Maybe both, he thought, that was likely.

He started to scan the boars milling around the cave entrance. Still five of them, those big, hairy beasts, all muscle and sharp tusk. It was almost impossible to tell which was weaker. They all looked mean, every single one of them looked powerful. But then, over on the far edge of the group, near a gnarled tree root that stuck up from the muddy ground, there was one. It was a little smaller than the others, he thought, maybe a bit thinner around the middle. Or was he just imagining things, seeing what he wanted to see?

It didn't matter. He had to pick one. He had to start this somewhere.

He took another slow breath, trying to calm the frantic feeling inside him. He tried to remember what he'd seen players do before a fight. Stances, they shifted into stances. Footwork, always moving their feet. Balance, always steady. He shifted his own feet, trying to find a balanced stance, trying to hold his spear ready. Ready for whatever was about to happen. He really didn't know what that would be.

He started to move forward, each step slow and deliberate. He tried to walk quietly, carefully placing each foot. Mud sucked at his boots, and hidden roots seemed to reach out and grab at his feet. It was hard to move quietly in Grimshark, he realized. The boars still didn't seem to notice him yet, though. They were too busy rooting around in the dirt, grunting to each other, just being boars.

He got closer, step by slow step. His heart pounded even harder now. The fear turned colder, like ice spreading through his system, freezing him from the inside out. But there was something else mixed in with the fear now, a different feeling pushing up from deep inside. Something tight and hot in his chest. Excitement? Yeah, maybe that was it. Crazy excitement, mixed with pure terror. This was it, he realized. No more going back.

He was close enough now, close enough to finally pick out his target boar. The smaller one, the one near the tree root, yes. It was still turned slightly away from him, head down, sniffing at the muddy ground. It didn't see him coming, not yet anyway. Good. That was good, maybe. Maybe it gave him a tiny edge.

He tightened his grip on the spear again, his knuckles white. He remembered those Rogue players, how fast they were, how quick their strikes. Maybe that was the way to do this. A fast attack, get in close, hit hard, and get out before the boar could react. It sounded like a plan in his head. But doing it, actually doing it… that was going to be a whole different story.

He took one last, deep breath to steady himself. And then he moved. No more slow steps. He went fast now, charging forward as quickly as his clumsy legs could carry him across the uneven ground. He charged right at that smaller boar, his spear held out in front of him, the broken point aimed right at its thick side. This was it. His first fight. His first real fight. Against a real monster in Grimshark. Time to see if he could actually learn to survive this. Time to see if he was anything more than just lines of code. Time to fight for real.

The boar heard him coming. Dumb beast maybe, but not deaf. It turned its big head, those small, mean eyes fixing on Barnaby. It snorted, a puff of hot, stinking air. Tusks lowered, ready to charge.

Barnaby didn't stop running; it was too late for that now. He was committed, maybe stupidly so, but committed. He kept his spear pointed forward, aiming for the boar's side, trying to look like he had a plan, like he knew exactly what he was doing, even though he really didn't – he was just running and hoping for the best. Then the boar charged, fast, even faster than he'd expected. Mud flew up, and the ground shook a little from its weight as it came. Up close, it was much bigger, way bigger than he'd imagined, a hairy, muscled mass of teeth and tusk - a real monster, not just lines of game code, but real danger charging right at him.

Fear shot through him again, stronger than before, trying to freeze him solid, lock him in place. But something else pushed back, that new feeling, that need to learn and fight and be more than just code, and it drove him forward even as his legs felt like they were filled with lead. He was getting too close to the boar, maybe too fast. Its tusks were right there, sharp points aimed directly at his legs. He remembered the Warrior players, always blocking with their shields, but he didn't have a shield, just his spear, which was meant for attacking, not blocking, right? He tried to dodge, like the Rogue players did, a quick side step, but his body didn't want to move that way, stiff joints resisting. Still, he forced it, twisting to the side just a little. Was it enough? 

The boar's tusk grazed his leg, not a proper block, not a clean dodge, just luck maybe, a close call, way too close. Pain exploded in his leg, sharp and hot, real damage. He could feel it in his code, numbers flashing in his mind for a split second, his health bar going down – real damage hitting him hard.

But he was past the tusks now, beside the boar. Moment to attack. He swung his spear. Clumsy swing, not like the players. But he put his weight into it, tried to use his whole body, like he'd been practicing. Spear point hit the boar's side, solid thunk.

Boar grunted, louder this time, angry grunt. It stumbled a little, surprised maybe. Damage to the boar too? Hope so. Had to be. He hit it.

Boar didn't stay surprised for long. It turned fast, way faster than he thought it could. Tusks coming back around, aiming for him again. He was too close now, trapped beside it. Nowhere to dodge. Nowhere to run.

He lifted his spear again, not to attack this time, but to block. Crazy idea. Spear was for attack, not block. But what else could he do? Boar's tusk was coming right at him.

He jammed the spear out in front of him, holding it sideways across his body, just hoping it would be enough. It was a desperate block, maybe even a stupid one, but as the boar's tusk slammed into the spear shaft, hitting it hard, the impact jolted up his arms and through his entire body. The wood of the spear shaft cracked and splintered, almost breaking completely in half. The block worked, in a way; the tusk didn't hit him this time, but his spear was almost useless now, his weapon breaking under the force.

Boar was still there, right in front of him, angry, tusks ready. And now he had a broken spear. Not much of a fight so far. More like… surviving for seconds. He was in trouble. Big trouble. First fight, and he was already losing. Badly losing. Was this it? Was this how it ended? Just… die here? Stupid guard trying to fight a monster, getting smashed, game over?

No. He couldn't think like that. Players didn't give up. He'd seen them fight, seen them get knocked down, seen them almost die, but they kept going. They learned. They adapted. They found a way.

The broken spear… just gone. Slipped from his fingers like it was nothing, like it never mattered. Looking down at his empty hands now, useless, shaking a little. Boar still there, a wall of muscle and tusk and stink, blocking out the world. This is it, isn't it? a panicked voice whispered inside his code. This is how it ends.

He watched the spear vanish into the mud, a forgotten thing already. Fists. He had fists now. Ridiculous. Could he actually use these? Against that? Insane. But what else was there? Every line of his programming screamed run, hide, guard duty, but something new was screaming louder: fight, survive, be more. Players did impossible things. He had to believe, had to try, even if it was the stupidest thing a guard could do.

Boar charged again, the ground trembling, the air thick with its smell, its rage. Here it comes. This is really it. He braced himself, every circuit in his body wired with pure, raw fear. Knowing it was coming didn't help, didn't soften the terror, just made it sharper, colder. Monster charging to kill him. And he was just… standing here.

Block with fists? Pointless. He wasn't a Warrior, not even close. Run? Leg was fire, pain locking his joints. No escape that way. Dodge. Again. That crazy side-step, that desperate twist. Last chance. He was running out of chances fast. Hope was a whisper now, a dying ember in the dark wind of Grimshark. But a whisper was still something.

He threw himself left, body screaming, muscles tearing, code protesting every unnatural movement. Boar was impossibly fast, reacting like it read his mind. Too fast? Was he fast enough? He couldn't tell, everything was a blur, roaring sounds, boar stink, mud flying. Lost in the chaos. Just move, twist, live. Then, wind past his ear, hot breath, rotten smell filling his nose, making him gag, eyes water. Missed him. Again. How? Just luck? Could luck last forever? Or… was he learning? Impossible. But… maybe.

Boar thunder past, unstoppable force, but it wheeled, turning back like a predator, impossibly fast for its size. But something clicked in him then, in that split second between life and death. Not frozen anymore. He moved too. Mirrored the boar's turn, felt his feet move, pivoting, circling, keeping that impossible distance. Players moved like this. He was moving like this. Am I… like them now? A little bit? Keep moving. Stay alive. That's all that mattered now.

Boar was losing it. Rage poured off it, a physical force. Snorting, bellowing, stamping, the mud flying, ground turning to soup. He was pushing it too far. Making it madder. Is this a mistake? Am I making it worse? No time to think, no time to second guess. Just react. Survive.

Then, the tree root. Familiar shape in the chaos. The root. That root. Solid, dark, unmoving in the mud. Strong. Maybe… his only chance now. Use it. Like players did. Use the world. Turn the ground into a weapon, the root into a shield. Crazy plan. Desperate plan. Only plan.

Boar charged, lower this time, head down, tusks digging furrows in the mud, a living battering ram of teeth and muscle and death. He dodged again. Same desperate move. Body screaming, leg burning, muscles tearing. Please work. Please, just one more time. It worked. Miracle again. Boar missed, tusks snapping shut where he'd just been. But this time, something different. He didn't just stumble back. Dodged towards something. Towards the root. On purpose. A plan forming, tiny, fragile, but a plan.

He threw himself behind the tree root, that solid wall of wood and earth. Safe. For a heartbeat. Just a heartbeat. Boar slammed into it, unstoppable weight meeting unyielding force, thump that shook the air. Boar grunted, shocked, winded. Root held. Root stopped it. Root is strong. Stronger than me. Use its strength.

Stuck. Boar was stuck. Just for a second. Time stretched, slowed, hung in the air, a thread about to break. A heartbeat. Two. Impossible chance. Now. Do it now or die.

Mind went blank. No thoughts, no plans, just action. Instinct. All those hours watching players, learning without knowing it, code finally clicking into place, something new waking up inside him. Fast. Brutal. Rogue style. Only way. He launched himself. Adrenaline screaming fire in his circuits. Jumped at the trapped boar. No spear. Fists only. Fists have to be enough.

Close. Too close. Right next to its head, smell of boar sweat and blood now, filling his senses. Pocket of safety, tiny, fragile, could shatter any second. This is crazy. I'm really doing this. And he hit it. Screamed, roared, something animal breaking loose inside him. Hit with everything. Fist into bone, muscle, wet impact, thwack that vibrated up his arm, pain blooming in his knuckles, shoulder jolting.

Boar exploded. Roar of pure agony, ripping the air, shaking the ground. Thrashed, head slamming against the root, desperate to escape. Did I hurt it? Did I actually hurt it? He hit it again. Same place. Other fist. Whack. Louder roar. Higher pitch. Yes. Hurting it.

Boar was going wild, thrashing, heaving, trying to break free, rage and pain driving it insane. Still trapped. For now. He kept hitting. Relentless fury. Fists a blur, hitting, hitting, hitting. Pain in his hands was white-hot now, arms screaming, body shaking. Was it enough? Could fists kill a boar? Didn't matter. Keep hitting. Keep fighting. Keep breathing. Keep… becoming something more than code.

Then, with one final, earth-shattering heave, a tearing sound, a wet rip of flesh and wood, the boar was free. It lurched back, spinning, colossal, terrifying, even more enraged, eyes burning with hate, promising death. This is it. Now it ends. But he was still standing. Still on his feet. In the mud, weaponless, hurt, almost dead. But alive. Still alive. And in the heart of the storm, impossibly, unbelievably, still… learning. Something deep inside him had shifted. He wasn't just code anymore. Not just a guard. He was… something else. Something new. Something… fighting to live.