[ WP ] As a villager in an MMORPG , you 've grown increasingly jaded from every single hero easily completing your `` quest '' . You 've decided to actively sabotage them from now on ...

They took my son from me, and that ’ s not something that can be fixed in fifteen minutes. Almost every day, I get a new bastard that waltzes cockily into town and offers to deliver revenge for me. Every one of them strolls into the den of lesser goblins, kills the leader of the gang that kidnapped, maimed, and killed my son, takes my reward and calls himself or herself a hero. Then they buy some supplies and leave town, supposedly to “ save the world. ” 
 
 Meanwhile, I grieve. It ’ s been almost two months of this, and I am still fighting, while it takes them less than an hour. It ’ s not fair. 
 
 That ’ s why I sent a messenger crow to the goblins this morning, to warn them that there would be a hostile adventurer visiting them today. You ’ d think that the monsters would catch on, after having to elect a new leader daily, but they ’ re exceptionally stupid. But even they would be able to make preparations with such an explicit warning. Maybe even prepared enough to hurt a rookie. 
 
 Almost immediately after I sent the crow, there was a knock at my door. I imagined the self-satisfied, burly cretin that must have been standing on my doorstep walking into a trap. I imagined him crawling back into town, into the infirmary, and begging me for another chance to fight my battle. And as I imagined my mouth forming the word “ No, ” I could not hold it back from a smile. I opened the door, and standing there was... my son? 
 
 No, no, just looks like him. Looking again, the boy ’ s face is completely different, and he ’ s taller. But something about the way he was standing, maybe, was reminiscent. He asks to come in, and I step aside. 
 
 He offers me drinks he bought from the Milk Bar, and we sit and talk for a while. He is not much more than a child, and he is sweet and friendly. He tells me about his journey, and I can ’ t stop staring at his face. I am watching the way it moves, trying to figure out what it is about him. Oh God, I remember him looking back at me from the road that day. I had just gotten him to be brave enough to ask a girl from the blacksmith school on a date. His smile was brighter than a candle. Oh, his smile- 
 
 “ Sir? ” 
 
 My eyes unglaze. The boy is standing, bag shouldered, and searching my face intently with eyes that are not invasive. “ I ’ m going now. ” 
 
 Oh, of course. The quest. I give him a potion to help with his fight, and he walks out the house and towards the woods. 
 
 Soon after the door shuts, I remember the trap I set. Oh no. Oh no no no. I swing the door open again, but he is already gone. What can I do? It will be hours before the next adventurer arrives. What can I do? My eyes fall upon the sword on my mantle. 
 
 There are some people in this world who grow without bounds. They become heroes, saints, monsters. They change the world. I am not one of them. But now is not the time to think about that. I can not let those monsters hurt him. Not again. 
 
 The blade is heavy in my hands, but I can still swing it awkwardly. My gait is halted and clumsy, but I can still run. My front door swings open behind me, and I move off towards the woods. 
 
 When I get to the den, the goblins have surrounded the boy with flames, and they are ready to watch him burn. I am standing in the shadows of a taller tree, so they don ’ t see me. I notice that off to my right there is a tall barrel filled with... some kind of thick liquid. There are twenty of them. That ’ s too many for me to beat, but I don ’ t have to win. I just have to save him. 
 
 I swing my sword at the head of the closest one. I miss. The boy exclaims. I ’ ve given up my cover. The goblin turns to face me, and grins gruesomely. It swings its right paw at my chest. I manage to block. It loses its hand. I kick it in the groin. It falls. 
 
 The next one is coming from my left. I move to counter. “ Watch out! ” the boy yells. Too late: I get hit from behind. The impact pushes me into the air, and I am launched almost ten feet. My eyes are ringing and my hearing is going black, but I can see that I am almost touching the tub. The footsteps from the strong one approach me. My sword is over where I was fighting before, and I ’ m running out of time. I struggle to my feet, and slouch towards the barrel. I can almost feel the thing ’ s breath on my back. I trip, but I fall into the barrel. It tips over, and the fire goes out. I land on my knees. I did it. 
 
 The goblins chatter. They are still there. I can ’ t stand up. Curses. 
 
 Then the boy snaps his fingers, and every non-human head explodes. What? He walks over to where I have collapsed and crouches down so that I can see his face. “ What just happened? ” I manage to ask. 
 
 “ I ’ m a mage. I didn ’ t need it, but I thank you for coming to save me. I ’ ll heal your wounds. ” 
 
 Oh. As my vision fades, the last thing I can see is his smile. It ’ s the same smile.
