Hacking the Game Didn't Go as Intended [Part One]

CHAPTER 83: Morgana's Plight

Gasping in horror, Morgana's breath caught in her throat at the sight of her amputated and cauterized leg. A surge of grief twisted her expression, and she began to sob uncontrollably, careful to stifle her cries so as not to alert the savage beasts prowling the chamber.

***

Amara felt like a lost lamb surrounded by a pack of ravenous wolves. She knelt inside a half-destroyed chapel, a waning barrier barely keeping her lustful enemies at bay.

The bandits sprawled across the dimly lit chamber, indulging in food and drink with rowdy abandon. Despite their feast, their hungry glances would occasionally fixate on Amara—a hunger that meat and wine couldn't satisfy.

Once a sanctuary for worship, the chapel had been transformed into a base for hooligans and their nefarious agendas. Yet Amara refused to see it as such. Despite her dire circumstances, she clung to her faith, spending every moment in captivity devoted to prayer.

The leader of the bandits abruptly pushed to his feet, brushing off the lackey who was just about done applying the bandage to his swollen nose. "This is the last straw," he declared venomously, commanding the attention of his comrades. "That damn goblin has made a fool of us for the last time!"

The bandits, clad in the gear they had plundered from adventures, surged upright and brandished their weapons, their faces reflecting their leader's fury and determination.

"We've amassed enough wealth from this unsavory alliance," the man reasoned, his voice filled with conviction. "Now we can procure all the horses we need and expand our forces."

The men raised their weapons and roared in agreement.

"The goblins are nothing without the might of the Orc. While the beast is still outside the village, it's the perfect time to strike. We'll pay those damn green bastards back for every ounce of humiliation we've endured."

"YEAH!!" the bandits gave another thunderous cheer, their spirits soaring with anticipation.

"What about the girl?" Queried one of the men.

The leader strode confidently toward the golden barrier and lashed out with his knife, but the blade failed to penetrate the glowing sphere. Nonetheless, the sound of impact visibly unsettled Amara, causing the barrier to fluctuate as her concentration wavered.

The man smirked. "It's just a matter of time before she runs out of mana and the barrier dissipates," he informed, a knowing glint in his eye. "Norman. Egga," he gestured at the two men, "you'll remain behind and keep our hostage secure. But don't you dare get ahead of yourselves. I'll be the first to take that woman; I didn't get my nose crushed out of simple charity, y'know."

Laughter erupted from the group.

"That only goes without saying."

"Roger that!"

Norman and Egga replied with matching grins, their eyes hungrily tracing the girl's features like a physical caress.

"Alright, you bastards," the leader declared, his tone full of resolve. "Let's go and slaughter some shitty goblins! I've had just about enough of this blasted place!"

"OHRAHH!"

***

Morgana felt herself emerging from her stupor to a cool sensation enveloping her injured leg. Her vision sharpened slightly, allowing her to discern a lone woman nearby, her hands emitting a soothing white light.

"...A-Amara?" she muttered weakly, her voice hoarse and barely above a whisper.

"...I think you have me confused with someone else, dear," the woman replied with a wan smile.

Morgana's body tensed at the realization. She attempted to shift her leg away, but the movement only rewarded her with a jolt of excruciating pain.

"Careful," the woman cautioned softly, her voice carrying a hint of concern. "You wouldn't want to reopen the wound; you've already lost quite a bit of blood."

"...Who are you?" asked Morgana defensively.

"A prisoner, like yourself," came the straightforward reply. "I'm Gloria. And you are?"

"...Morgana," replied the girl, her gaze assessing the nun whose burly disposition almost rivaled Gretchen's. "I'm an adventurer," she began, then glanced down at her leg with a sigh. "Although, with this kind of injury, it might be more accurate to say I'm a former adventurer."

"I see," said Gloria, her attempt to console the girl falling short as she struggled to find the right words.

"...Where am I?"

"We're inside a goblin's cave."

Closing her eyes, Morgana pressed her fingertips to her temples, hoping to untangle the threads of memory that eluded her grasp. A relentless headache pulsed behind her eyes, complicating her efforts to piece together the events leading up to this moment. Even the ordeal of losing her leg felt like nothing more than an incoherent nightmare. And yet it was undeniably real.

"...That goblin with the staff," Morgana began, her voice quivering with uncertainty, "it didn't seem like your typical monster at all."

As the woman rose to her feet, the faint clink of her shackle echoed in the dim cave, the long chain connected to it disappearing among the large rocks and hordes of old furniture cluttering the cave.

"Very perceptive," Gloria acknowledged with a wry smile.

Using the wall for support, Morgana gingerly stood up. Beyond the chaos of the clutter, she glimpsed several crudely made tents illuminated by the soft glow of mana crystals. To the far left, near one of the tents, a group of goblins labored with primitive tools, their movements frenzied yet purposeful.

"What are they building?" she inquired, her gaze scanning the area in a futile attempt to locate her bow and quiver.

"...Your tent," Gloria informed flatly, a hint of hopelessness tainting her tone.

Morgana's eyes quivered. At the woman's ominous words, she felt a sense of dread settle over her. She somehow knew that a fate awaited her that was far more painful than the loss of her severed leg, and more terrifying than death itself.