The wind blew Sol's hair into his face as he calmly watched the entrance to the goblins’ cave. An hour or so having passed since he followed the tall and short goblins, there hadn’t seen any movement from the cave after that, though he didn’t particularly mind, using that time to calm himself down as well as to observe the group of muscular goblins.
Numbering five in all, they were a bit larger than the average goblin, their muscles a bit more defined and standing about a head taller than Sol, but their skin was still the same, solid dull green color as normal goblins; Not the green with blotches of brown and tan hobgoblin’s had. They were most likely quasi-hobgoblins, or goblins that had gathered enough mana to begin the evolution process but not enough to fully transform.
Just like the hobgoblin Sol had previously spotted, they were unarmored, instead just wearing furs that covered their sensitive areas such as the soles of their feet and their groins. They each carried with them a wooden spear tipped with a sharp stone, and if it came down to it, Sol felt confident in being able to block or deflect their primitive weapons’ blows with his shield, though if he were to restrict himself to only using cold steel, he'd likely have some amount of trouble in actually killing them because of their increased vitality that came with their larger size.
But in the end, he’d probably still win.
Suddenly hearing a noise coming from the cave, Sol further crouched down behind the bushes he hid, though he was still able to somewhat peek through the gaps in the foliage to get a sense of what was going on. A trio of goblins, each noticeably younger in that their skin was smoother and more brightly colored, walked out from the cave, one carrying a rusted knife the other two chipped stones.
One of the quasi-hobgoblins, the only one with a gouged out eye and whose skin was a darker, more dull green than the rest, made a noise at them, to which the young goblin walking in front of the other two promptly rebutted, wildly gesturing this way and that, before pounding it’s bare chest and flicking it’s hand, as if dismissing the older goblin’s worries.
Immediately after, it and it’s two compatriots continued to march on, the same quasi-hobgoblin following behind them, it’s voice growing louder and more forceful, before eventually making a noise of displeasure and returning to it’s post.
Watching the three young goblin’s fearlessly walk into the forest in his general direction, Sol waited for them to walk a good distance, before beginning to stalk after them, his heartbeat quickening in anticipation.
Following behind, Sol watched as the two more timid goblins anxiously followed behind the leader as it fearlessly made it’s way forward. Eventually, something must have alerted it, as the boisterous goblin motioned the other two to crouch down and the three began to more slowly make their forward.
Suddenly, the lead goblin abruptly jumped out, diving into a large, somewhat sparsely vegetated bush and emerging moments later holding a rabbit. Struggling to keep the hare still as it attempted to jump this way and that, it yelled for it’s companions, to which the two frantically ran towards their friend, beginning to stab the animal. Only killing it after the rabbit’s body was littered in wounds, effectively ruining the meat with how desecrated the flesh was, the lead young goblin got back up, breathing heavily, before suddenly rushing it’s two friends and holding them both in a headlock with it’s arms.
Making noises Sol took to be the vocalization of the euphoria brought about in the aftermath of a hard fought battle, the three celebrated loudly, prancing this way and that. They slung their arms over each other’s shoulders, making a circle around the dead rabbit and danced. Only stopping after five minutes had passed and they had thoroughly exhausted themselves, one of the follower goblins picked the rabbit corpse up and spoke, pointing to the cave and presumably vocalizing it’s desire to return.
At it’s words, the other two reacted quite negatively, one of them slapping the goblin that wanted to return upside the head, while the other pulled it in the other direction. Effectively being pressured into continuing on, the young goblin relented, slumping it’s shoulders over and being relegated to be the one to carry the dead rabbit.
Sol watched as they continued hunting, encountering another two rabbits and a squirrel, though it quickly became very obvious their first kill was a result of beginners’ luck. They were only able to succeed in killing the squirrel after it had fallen out of a tree directly onto the head of one of the goblins. And they had just barely done that without stabbing each others' eyes out.
A few minutes having passed since they lost track of yet another rabbit, the leading goblin turned to the other two, pointing to the dead squirrel they had already hunted. It’s friends looked at each other, before one of them nodded, and the three soon began to cut into and eat their hunted prey raw.
Despite the three goblins having stopped moving, Sol continued on watching them, though at a lesser intensity than before. He had his suspicions before, from how the hobgoblin archer had previously essentially given the two of them a head start in favor of cradling the corpse of the goblin Abetra had run through with a sword, but the day’s observations had essentially confirmed in Sol's mind that goblins were somewhat capable of feeling emotion.
Why else would the elder, one-eyed quasi-hobgoblin so vehemently try to prevent the three young goblins from going out of the cave, if not out of concern for their wellbeing? They certainly weren’t very skilled or experienced, judging from how young they appeared, their jubilance at so poorly killing a rabbit and their overt, judgement-clouding frustration on their faces after failing a number of times.
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Their deaths would probably actually be helpful to the tribe, Sol sordidly thought, Three less mouths to feed.
After all, they were almost definitely a net drain on the tribe’s resource.
But then that raised the question, how was it possible for three goblins of such little strength to for survive so long? Sol didn’t possess in depth knowledge on goblins, but it was well known even to peasants that goblins were akin to rats, if not the slightest bit worse, as they were always eating, always mating, often not even with their own species, and this always increasing in number.
That was one of the primary reasons for why they were so hated, as akin to a parasite, they would suck a land of it’s resources in a relatively short period of time, such that it was impossible for anything to grow or live. But if that were the case, the sheer number of goblins in the tribe would make the competition for resources reach such levels of intensity it would be impossible for the runt of the litter to survive.
So that could only mean the number of goblins in the cave was incredibly low. Not only that, although goblins were considered monsters, they were at the end of the day, still considered to be near the very bottom of the hierarchy of the world. Not only were they incredibly stupid, they were weak, and most damning of all and most importantly, the speed at which they evolved was much too slow.
Five quasi-hobgoblins, one hobgoblin archer, Goddess knows how many normal goblins.
A plan beginning to take shape, Sol absentmindedly looked out to the three young goblins, their weapons set to the side as they fought over which parts of the squirrel they would each get to eat.
***
As the sun began to set, Sol blankly observed the entrance to the cave and the five quasi-hobgoblins guarding it, before looking away and sighing in exhaustion.
If there were any other course of action he could've taken, he would have taken it, a lump in his throat that what he was about to do would leave a bitter taste in his mouth. But with the ending of his second outing to the dream as well as the point in time when access points would appear both quickly approaching, he was a rat with it's foot stuck in a trap.
Kneeling down to the grassy floor, Sol closed his eyes and held his hands out, making a triangle with his thumbs and pointer fingers and lining the triangle up with his intended target.
“Flamme, Offa, I call upon thee, Heart of the Most Glorious Light, Mistress of the Eleven Disciples, Creator, Protector, Most Holiest Mother, Goddess, gaze upon the world beneath Heaven. Have mercy on the pious, scorch those who would seek to commit evils in this world thou hast created…”
Continuing to chant as he did so, Sol slowly channeled the mana from his central mana stone down the channels that ran in his arms, a translucent blue magic circle eventually coming into existence in front of his hands.
Spinning faster and faster as he continued, ten seconds after Sol began casting, a condensed, arrowhead shaped red flame began to form in front of the circle. The inside glowing white hot, the fire visibly undulated in unison with his primeval chants, oozing with power and heating up and distorting the air around him. Droplets of sweat immediately began to form on his scrunched brow, the tips of his fingers going clammy. Sol swore that he could feel sparks being formed by the spell that would land on and scorch the palms of his hands.
“...Flame Shot,” he finally whispered, as the magic circle briefly glowed white, indicating that he had succeeded, before disappearing.
Exploding out in a burst of power as soon as it's caster finished chanting, Flame Shot soared through the air faster than any arrow Sol had ever seen, before eventually landing directly on target. Crackling as it flew, the Flame Shot burrowed inside the stomach of one of the quasi-hobgoblins, immediately scorching the goblin’s flesh such that even from where Sol kneeled, he could smell the meat roasting.
Screaming in horror, the quasi-hobgoblin desperately turned to one of it’s compatriots, beginning to run towards it for help, but it was of no use.
The secondary effect of Flame Shot triggered.
A loud explosion reverberated through the air and momentarily deafened Sol. The quasi-hobgoblin exploded out in a burst of green gore, it’s middle and lower body becoming completely shredded, bits of green flesh, skin and blood shooting out in every single direction, painting the cliff face the cave was carved into a dull green.
All that was left of the goblin was it’s upper torso, it’s head still connected to it’s shoulders, it’s shoulders still just barely connected to it’s arms by the narrowest strips of flesh. After what was left of it’s body shot into the air, painting a strangely beautiful image of grisly green viscera on a completely blank canvas, and landed in the tall green grass, the goblin remained still, no longer alive. Having evidently died as soon as Flame Shot exploded, an expression of sheer horror and pain was painted onto it’s face, visible from even from where Sol kneeled.
Momentarily entranced by the sheer scale of destruction and carnage wrought by Flame Shot, Sol quickly snapped out of it and stood back up.
He grabbed the heads of the two timid young goblins and hurled them one after another, making sure to aim for the feet of the one-eyed quasi-hobgoblin.
Landing directly where he aimed, by sheer dumb luck, the two heads were positioned such that they were staring blankly up into the air, the sheer fear and terror the two felt in their last moments clear. The one eyed goblin looked down, an expression of shock and horror at what had just occurred to the other quasi-hobgoblin, before a flicker of recognition appeared in it’s eyes and it bent down.
Turning the two’s heads such that it could more clearly look at them, the one eyed goblin immediately shot back up. Enraged, it turned it’s head left to right, scanning the foliage.
As it’s gaze reached where Sol stood, the goblin roared with sheer, unfettered hatred.
Making sure that it saw and would follow after him, Sol turned around, beginning to run deep into the woods.