“Tugnuk blak! In, in, monster humans-prisoners! Kehehehehehek!”

“Dnasti! Dnasti! Dnasti! Kehehehek!”

“Dnasti! Dnasti! Dnasti! Kahiiaaaaaahhhekehekehek!”

Revolting. Or maybe mortifying? Regardless of what words could be used to describe this group of cackling, green creatures, it was undoubtedly unpleasant to look at. This would, after all, be exactly what the typical adventurer would think the moment they met numerous goblins and hobgoblins howling out in laughter, waving their simple iron weapons in the air as they celebrated their victory.

However, unlike a common encounter with most goblins, these green fiends weren’t wearing shabby, low-quality equipment looted from unsuspecting caravans or unfortunate adventurers, but rather high quality gear made by their own blacksmiths. Orcish blacksmiths. The quality was incomparable to dwarven-made weapons and armor and the finesse was missing unlike the elves, however, these weapons were made to be brutish and to accomodate grimgarian body types.

“Grrrrrrrr! Grarrrr! Don’t look at her like that, you green shits! I’ll rip your eyes out and- ARGH!” In the middle of this rambunctious goblin group were a wolfkin and arvisian, both shoved into a makeshift prison cage by their capturers. Noticing the vile, lascivious gazes the grimgarian males were sending towards his companion, the wolfkin adventurer lashed out at his captors, but was immediately stabbed in the leg by a laughing goblin guard for his efforts.

“Kahahek!” Watching these helpless adventurers struggle gave the surrounding goblins endless joy, for they were sadistic beings. Greedy for power, conniving enough to backstab comrades they fought with, and filled with envy against those stronger or more influential than them. This is what makes a goblin a goblin.

“Wulf… stop it. You know they’re enjoying this, and you’re just encouraging them,” sitting in a corner, the green-feathered arvisian woman was scolding her male companion. The feathers on her arms were mostly ripped off and she was looking rather pale, probably due to blood loss from the wounds all over her body.

“Diena…,” Wulf couldn’t help but look at his companion pitifully, as she gave him a weak stare. However, this only lasted for a moment as the goblins’ hysterical laughter brought him back to the reality of his situation.

“Keheheheh! Die-die, you die-die! We feast-eat your bodies! Kehehehek!” Driving their victims in despair and watching them suffer, those were the goblins’ intention as they continued to mock the adventurers. For them, it was like watching animals through a zoo’s glass panel.

“Silence!” It was then that a booming voice interrupted the gleeful laughter of the goblins, forcing them to turn to the source of it. “Shaman here. Move!”

Two massive grey-skinned orcs clad in heavy armor and armed with large axes pushed through the group of goblins, making way for a blue-skinned hobgoblin female in shamanic robes. With a bone staff in her hands, she signaled the orc guards standing behind her to move forward, dragging with them a large man.

“Yubnri’en! Gliedda yuf vernohn blieck, Marsven!” The numerous goblins and hobgoblins prostrated before the hobgoblin shaman, repeating the same sentence in honor of their chosen deity — the God of Darkness, Marsven.

Although goblins in general are devious, untrustworthy, and prone to violence, the one member they would never betray in their own race would be the blue-skin ones — goblins born with the aptitude to become mages or shamans. This is primarily because these goblins were unable to betray the two beings they held in esteem over even their ruling lord or ruler: the gods Marsven and Edna, also known as the Night Father and Mother in the Black Tongue, the language of grimgarians. For if they were to betray these two deities, then Kronnaz, third daughter of Marsven and the Goddess of Grudges and Grimgarian, would strike them down.

Marine blue resembling the night — most grimgarians believe that those of their race with the option to evolve into a blue variant were personally blessed by Edna to become shamans and mages, meaning they were as respected as white-robed priests for Aurena followers. While blue-skinned goblins can be as devious as their normal brethren, they were less likely to be consumed by greed and envy from both their superior intellect and the fact they already wield power over hordes of goblins.

The orcs carrying the wounded man opened the prison cell and tossed him in without consideration for the wounds on his body. Wulf quickly approached the man, calling out “Raian,” before pulling the injured man up just to notice the terrible state his arms were in and a bloody rag covering his right eye. Wulf spat out insults at his captors, but the shaman’s entourage just ignored them.

The blue-skinned hobgoblin then approached the cage. She was slightly shorter than a human female but still taller than a dwarven woman, with black hair flowing down her back, the most obvious signs she was an evolved goblin, unlike her shorter and bald relatives. Her nose was small and curved upwards, large eyes adapted for life inside a cave, and sharp ears almost the size of her head with an appearance resembling the elves.

“We speak later. You will tell us the location of your home and its defenses,” the shaman demanded from the adventurers. “Numbers of soldiers, adventurers, walls, knights, mages. All, you will give us, all-all.”

Ending her sentence with the goblin’s iconic speech impediment, Wulf couldn’t help but click his tongue, scowling at her with rage-filled eyes. “You think we will say anything, you goblin scum?! Don’t underestimate us, you monsters! You attack us, we will wipe you all out!” Wulf’s threat, however? None of the goblins took it seriously, laughing maniacally at the futility of his threat.

The only goblin who didn’t laugh was the shaman. “You will speak. Or we continue breaking the warrior. Another eye for our elixir. You will be sacrificed to honor the Night Father and Mother; however, your death will be filled with pain if you don’t speak. You speak and die in flames, honorably. Or we feast on you while you still live. Death as prey. Not warrior!”

With the words of their shaman, the goblins’ ravenous stares returned, eying both adventurers while licking their lips with greed. Some of the goblin’s sadistic desires even awoke at how frail and fragile the female arvisian looked with her injured arms, jumping and taunting her with glee.

“Graaaaaaaaaaaaa! Mine-mine! Mine!”

“Mine! Gliedda yuf vitriolr blieck! Me strongest!”

A horde of ravenous predators were rattled. The orc guards couldn’t help but scowl at the repulsive sight of their lesser brethren, unable to understand how feeble goblins were this depraved, while the kobold tamers at the back of the room scoffed at them. The adventurers, on the other hand, couldn’t help but feel dread in this situation, trembling at what fate they were awaiting.

All hope was gone.

Once silence was restored, the shaman informed them that they would be interrogated the next day, and then left them. A short while later, the adrenaline wore off and fatigue finally caught up to them.. Not only did these three hunters fight against a scouting party of goblins and kobolds, they also ventured into this cave to hunt down their supposedly lonely target.

They entered filled with determination and strength, having prepared as best they could for the pursuit; however, they found nothing but trials and tribulations awaiting them. Mind and body were tested as they were ambushed by sentries and driven deeper into the cave before they found an opening to flee. Unfortunately, to allow the youngest of them to flee, these crestfallen three had to sacrifice themselves, and, in doing so, were left to face the ultimate price.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“…What a way to go,” Wulf, the wolfkin, lamented as he leaned on the wall beside Verdiena. He was the least injured among the three, but with only his clothes left after being captured, there was nothing he could do against the horde of enemies waiting outside this small chamber.

However, his companion did not reply. Wulf sighed as a response to her silence. “Sorry, I should have rejected the idea in the first place. I know you hate caves.”

“All arvisians hate places where they can’t fly. It is an instinctual thing,” Verdiena opened her mouth to correct her companion. She didn’t raise her eyes, keeping them glued to the cold, grey ground.

“…Do you think I made the right choice?” Wulf eked out after a long wait.

“Which one?”

“Letting those brats go. If I had kicked them aside instead of blowing up that barrel of alcohol, we would have been the ones outside right now.”

“Do you think you regret it? Choosing them over us?” Verdiena raised her head and faced Wulf. Her eyes stared into his, waiting for an answer.

“Ha, I asked you first…,” Wulf scoffed, but then turned to look at the ceiling. He responded after thinking about the question. “Considering what we planned to do after leaving Lecartiglio, I can’t help but say it wasn’t worth it at all. I mean, we are about to die. To a bunch of goblins and kobolds, for fuck’s sake. Not what I would call a good end.”

Verdiena shrugged and placed her head on his shoulder, letting themselves enjoy what they could of the last night of their lives. They heard Raian’s pained breathing, his lungs working hard to provide him oxygen. They heard a commotion from outside the chamber, tensing up as they couldn’t help but imagine the worst, but as time went by and nobody entered the prison chamber, they let out a deep sigh.

The kids weren’t captured, hopefully.

Leif. Lucia. May the Goddess bless you.

Whether they were lucky or because the guards weren’t allowed to bother them, nobody entered the chamber, leaving Wulf and Verdiena to slip into sleep as their mental and physical exhaustion caught up to them. In truth, though, the reason was because of something they wouldn’t have expected: a warg rider group of the grimgarian army had returned severely damaged.

Specifically, this battalion from the grimgarian army was sent to traverse through a cave inside the eastern Belzac mountain range and enter the Greenveil duchy from the north. And this battalion recently received word that an unknown force had ambushed a warg squadron meant to hunt down the fleeing adventurers Leif and Lucia. Not only did the outriders lose a large number of trained wargs, but numerous hobgoblin and echikobold riders, including the leader of the squadron.

Losing a few goblins or kobolds wasn’t worth mentioning for a grimgarian army, since they were treated as cannon fodder anyway; on the other hand, losing tamed monsters was a different issue. Wargs were ferocious beasts large enough to serve as mounts for goblins and kobolds, but they were feral and required intensive care to break in, even when young. They also lost a large grizzly almost ready to evolve into its C rank form.

Due to this fact, the battalion sent out scouting parties to hunt down the interlopers. Goblins and kobolds too weak to challenge a grown adult man were sent out in the dozens to search the forest, since the battalion didn’t want to incur more attention than they already had. Their existence was to be kept a secret until the fateful day came for them to bring down the fury of the grimgarians on the humans of Artorias.

Since the shamans and orcs would probably punish any frolicking goblin, the adventurer trio was able to enjoy a small moment of respite. How long would it last? It wasn’t clear, but all good things must end sooner or later.

“Nothing?! You found nothing?!” Outside the cave’s entrance, an orc warrior shouted at the cowering goblins and kobolds scouts. “Have you no idea what this means?!”

“We-We could not find them-pinks,” a goblin in the front forced himself to say, seeing as the rest of the scouts chose him as the sacrifice for the orc’s rage. We-We couldn’t find any corpses-bodies of the riders. Gone-Gone. Just like pinks.”

“The bodies of our warg riders disappeared?! If this is a gobbo jest, then I ain’t laughing midget,” the orc snorted before picking the screaming goblin up and sniffing him. Even without the nose of a pig or beast, these orcs have a refined sense of smell due to their love for food. A strong body requires sufficient nutrients.

After he was done sniffing the goblin, he chucked him on the ground like a used-up toy. “I can smell fear and exhaustion. Your sweat doesn’t smell like that of a liar, midget. Hmph, the commander will not like to hear this.”

Humans who knew of the battalion’s position fled the forest, meaning they were now a risk factor since they could inform the hunter’s guild of their position. In the orc’s mind, he knew the commander of this battalion would not be happy to hear this. In fact, it was very likely he would be angered enough to lash out at his subordinate for ruining the plan. The fear of this happening was far worse than caring about the disappearing bodies of the warg riders.

The scouts were recalled back to the cave and nobody was allowed to leave the cave until the commander had decided on their next actions. That was their order and not even the shamans could ignore it. So, every grimgarian delved deeper into the mountain, where this military unit was stationed, leaving the entrance unguarded. Now, if someone were to enter, they would enter the grimgarian’s playing field and suffer the same fate the unfortunate adventurers did.

As time went by, with the noon sun blazing brightly in the sky, black smoke suddenly entered the cave. It wasn’t unusual, as there were troll warriors roasting meat and brewing stew for the ever-hungry battalion, especially the ravenous orcs and their endless appetite. Some smoke and coughing here and there was to be expected inside a cave.

However, what made it worrying for the grimgarians was when the smoke continued to gather at the cave’s ceiling like a cloud, never dispersing. The halls filled with the echoes of coughs, eventually forcing the orc guards to drag goblin mages from the depths of the mountain to the front to order them to ventilate the cave with wind spells. Unfortunately, despite their best efforts, the clouds would simply return inside, even larger and darker.

At the same time, the temperature inside the cave steadily rose until it became too warm for the grimgarians to handle, sweating and coughing uncontrollably. No matter how disciplined a grimgarian could become, the terrible situation inside the cave drove the goblins, kobolds, orcs, and trolls into a frenzy, provoking them to rush out of the cave.

In all this chaos, nobody cared for the adventurers.

As the grimgarians rushed to the cave’s entrance — desperate for clean air and cool winds — their ears were suddenly filled with the sound of a female voice accompanied by musical instruments the grimgarians had never heard before. But, no matter what it was, their legs would not stop as long as they were drenched in sweat and crying from a lack of oxygen.

Once the light of the outside came into view, hope filled the grimgarians’ hearts… It was just unfortunate that such hope was quickly burned to ashes.

The orcs leading the way forward flinched in pain, stepping back as blazing heat singed their faces. Their eyes watered as a response as they gazed at the red pyres standing outside the cave. An inferno encircled the entrance, having already killed any vegetation inside it. As their eyes were recovering from the sight, their hearing was once again stimulated by a serene voice. Their eyes wandered to the source.

A single person stood alone in front of them, unperturbed by the rising heat. She had her arms crossed while her white robes were fluttering amidst intense winds created through her magic, pushing the black smoke created by the inferno into the cave. Most would see her as a normal human girl if it wasn’t for her twin horns, scaled arms and legs, and a long tail flowing out of her skirt.

“In my purgatory, I make the devil cry ♫

In Hellfire ♫

All you hear are his screams, begging to be released ♫

It’s Music ♫”

Music was booming next to her, with the wind imitating a girl’s voice and instruments through magic alone. The girl, having noticed the grimgarians, opened up her eyes, revealing two sharp predatory irises. “This is your first and only chance. Return the three adventurers you captured and get out of Artorian lands this instance! What is your answer to this ultimatum?”

The mere sound of her words was heavy on the grimgarian’s minds and body. They felt an instinctual fear and terror from the girl while their minds were telling them to obey her every words, as if she was their lord and master. Like a tyrant gazing down on her unworthy subjects.

No answers came out but the girl waited patiently, as if the grimgarians’ every action was worth before her. That was when a blue-skinned goblin moved forward. “Breubon Iblis! Aurena! She is a priestess of the Bright Scourge!”

The shout from the hobgoblin shaman was like a wake-up call, dispelling the fear inside the different grimarians and stirring them to a frenzy. Anger rose and dyed their eyes red. They raised their weapons and gave the girl their answer.

“GUARGGGGGHHHHHH!”

“…Hmph. Just like my first encounter with orcs.” The girl sighed as the grimgarians rushed forward, shouting war cries as the heat and smoke destroyed any semblance of battle discipline they learned. The girl’s eyes sharpened, glaring at the approaching horde with frustration and annoyance.

She raised her hand and snapped her claws.

The cries of numerous grimgarians were then buried under a mighty explosion.