“Just relax Aksel. When you’re ready, we can begin,” the smooth, soothing voice of the priest reassured him. Sealed inside a small chamber, Aksel stood alone with a clergyman of the faith, dressed in his blue and gold robes with a hole cut out in the chest. Aksel, too, was shirtless, the hand of the priest placed at his centre, directly above his heart. This was his purity test, his chance to prove himself worthy of joining the Faith. Aksel drew in a deep breath to calm his racing heart, and nodded.
“Okay, I’m ready.” He informed the priest with all the confidence he could muster.
“You’ll be fine, Miya wouldn’t have brought you here if she thought you couldn’t handle it. The first part is easy. Just close your eyes and feel his essence upon your body.”
Doing as instructed, he closed his eyes, more nervous than he had ever been in his life. His vision was thrown into darkness, yet the radiant light emitting from his chest was bright enough to notice even through his eyelids. A wave of loose, almost liquid heat spread out across his torso, warming it like the unobstructed rays of the sun. After spreading across most of his chest, its progression ceased, holding there for a moment.
“You appear to have taken to it nicely on a surface level, well done,” the priest congratulated him, though Aksel knew that this was little more than testing the waters. “Okay, I’m going to start pouring the essence inside your chest, are you ready?” Aksel nodded in confirmation, though that wasn’t sufficient for the priest. “I need you to verbally consent before we can proceed.”
“I’m ready,” he told the priest, anxiety audible in his voice.
A pressure began to build at his centre, the wave of warmth across his chest retracting. the pressure continued to mount, the heat transforming from a sweet ray of sunshine to standing beside a roaring fire. Then, without warning, the pressure was relieved, and the heat flowed inside his body.
Sweat trickled down his brow in a vain attempt to cool him down, as the essence passed slowly through his ribcage and between the lungs. With its last obstacle cleared, the essence poured into his heart like milk filling a glass. The sudden burning sensation within his heart caused Aksel to hunch over, his hand instinctively rushing to clutch his chest. However, the priest was prepared and stopped him before he broke the connection.
“It’s okay, the burning will pass. Just breathe and let His warmth embrace your core. You’re doing fine, you just need to remain standing.”
The intense heat was almost too much, but as the priest assured him, his body gradually acclimated to the foreign energy coursing through it. Eventually, it felt like a beam of sunshine was fixed within his heart. Though it felt uncomfortable, the sensation was bearable.
“Good, you’ve taken to His essence quite nicely, well done,” the priest congratulated him. Aksel breathed an exaggerated sigh of relief that made the priest chuckle. “Next, I’ll spread the essence throughout your body. Have no fear, the worst of it is over now.”
“Sounds good. I’m ready,” Aksel consented, and once more, the essence inside of him began to move.
“Aksel, how are you feeling?” The priest questioned.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Your heart rate’s a little high there, try to take some deep breaths for me,” the man instructed. Aksel felt a bit concerned upon hearing that, but since he felt fine, he complied with the instructions.
“Aksel, your heart rate’s still rising. Please try to relax for me,” the priest urged, noticing the continued increase in Aksel’s heart rate.
“I’m relaxed, but I can’t say you’re making it easy right now,” Aksel responded, sensing the increase for himself. His heart was pounding against his chest, a slight ache stoking inside his bloated organ. The discomfort he felt when the essence first settled was spreading throughout his upper body, starting with his arms and back, but gradually spreading further as time passed.
“I’m sorry, I’m afraid we’ll have to cancel the test before your condition deteriorates further,” the priest informed him, the essence flowing into his body abruptly halting, before beginning its withdrawal.
“What? Don’t—“ Aksel snapped open his eyes, and saw an oily shadow in humanoid form hanging over the priests shoulder, it’s featureless face fixated on the emanation in Aksel’s chest.
A sudden, intense spike of pain surged through Aksel like a bolt, causing him to jolt involuntarily. Even the priest’s grip on him was briefly overpowered as he hunched over, his hand knocked loose from his chest for only a second.
“No!” The priest shouted, hurrying to lock his hand back into position before it was too late.
However, it was already too late.
With the abrupt severing of the connection, the divine essence began running wild inside Aksel’s body, coursing swiftly through him, carried by the blood pumping vigorously through his overactive heart. Several parts of Aksel started to glow with a golden light as the energy fragmented and broke apart inside him.
“Damn it! HELGA! HELGA! GET IN HERE NOW!” The priest bellowed to his assistant waiting outside. Aksel’s body felt like it was engulfed in flames, his breaths growing increasingly short. Just as he spotted the chamber door being unsealed, a scorching stem of essence flowed into Aksel’s head.
Just like that, he collapsed.
The vision in his right eye went dark, as though shadows had consumed the world, while in his left eye, only a blur remained, though he was keenly aware he was now laying on the floor. Between the ringing in his ears, he could hear multiple voices all around him, but he could no longer make sense of the words. Blurry limbs rolled him onto his back and propped his head on something, yet, he never felt a single thing, or for that matter, anything other than the red-hot mite buzzing around inside his skull. All around him, he witnessed several people laying their hands upon him, their palms and eyes radiating an intense golden light, including, what he assumed, were two hands on either side of his head. Within his very brain, a pursuit like no other began, as two large waves of warmth rushed towards the centre to consume the burning bolt zipping around inside of him, and he assumed similar pursuits were occurring across his body.
All he could do was stare directly ahead, into the empty face of the creature that haunted him, as he lay there crippled beyond repair. It never looked away, never moved an inch, it just observed his suffering, as it always had. Just as the waves of essence caught the rogue flame inside his head, Aksel blacked out.
Aksel suddenly awoke, his eyes shooting open as he launched himself forward to sit upright. His breathing was rapid, his body was caked in sweat. Frantically, he twisted his head around his dark room, lit only by the light of the moons and torches that peeked through his window. He clutched at his chest, stopping only when he happened upon his sister’s necklace. He held it tightly as he tended to do with particularly bad nightmares. Except, he realised that it wasn’t his sister’s necklace that he was holding. Glancing down, he saw the ever so faintly glowing metal of Hera’s gift, the sign from The First himself that he was destined to pass his purity test and fulfil his dreams.
“Heh…” He squeezed the pendant tightly in his hand. “hehehehehe… aaaaaahaaaaaaaaaahhhhh!” Aksel wailed, a mix of agony and frustration reverberating around the room. The cool metal of the pendant began cutting into his skin, his blood seeping from his palm, yet he refused to stop squeezing. His other hand fell over his eyes, unable to catch all the tears streaming down his cheeks and soaking the sheets below.
---
Aksel glared at his bandaged right palm, annoyed. The cut wasn’t deep, but it was irritating enough that he needed to wrap it up in something to stem the bleeding. At least he finally found a use for that crappy blanket, which was missing a small strip from its side. With his blessing present, there was nothing to fear regarding infections, but he still wished he had easier access to basic medical supplies.
I never did make it to the store. So, I guess that’s a belt, a hood, a club, and a few bandages that I need now… I should probably stop traveling so light and just invest in a backpack or something. He pondered, calculating if he’d have enough money for all the spending he was planning to do. What time is it anyway?
Though he had little idea of how long he’d slept, he knew it wasn’t nearly enough. He attempted to force himself back to sleep, but the weight on his mind made it impossible. After twenty minutes, Aksel relented. He had experienced countless nightmares in his time, yet this one stung him deeper than any other he could recall.
It’s just a stupid nightmare, he assured himself, it would never happen. But his thoughts were of little comfort to him. After a minute of contemplation, he finally shoved his covers aside, threw his clothes back on and headed for the door. If he couldn’t sleep, he at least needed to occupy himself until he’d cleared his head. Stepping into the hallway, he followed it around the corner before descending the stairs leading to the tavern area. A faint light from a candle flickering caught his eye.
“Ah, Aksel, good morning,” David greeted, turning his head to face him. The innkeeper was seated at one of the dining tables, quietly reading a small but bulky book that Aksel recognised in an instant. The Arcana Divina—the primary holy text of the Faith.
“Sorry to disturb you, it seems I can’t sleep tonight,” Aksel admitted apologetically.
“Ah, you as well then? You know, most people around here complain of hearing noises in the night, though I’ve never heard anything myself. Anyway, I imagine most of Carnifex wore themselves out last night, so you won’t find many still up at this hour,” David replied.
“Yeah. I’ll be honest, I wasn’t expecting to find anyone else awake.”
“You know, I’ve never managed to read this book all the way through. The Arcana section alone is too much for me, but now, I almost can’t take my eyes off it. Funny that. August always used to tell me it was a good read before, even though he barely finished a book in his life,” the two shared a brief chuckle.
“Yeah, I know what you mean. I’ve actually read it myself, it’s a good book. Well, I think so, at least,” Aksel remarked.
“You’d make a good knight, I think. Helping to save Miya and Jason alone should make you qualified, in my opinion. August was like that too. He used to run head-first… Anyway, don’t let me keep you. Did you want something from the bar or kitchen? Or did you mean to go outside? I can unlock the door for you if that’s the case.”
“Oh, erm, please. Thank you,” Aksel accepted David’s offer. David wordlessly walked over and held the door open for him. He almost passed through the opening, but hesitated just as he was about to exit.
“Are you going to be okay?” he asked the inn keeper, feeling dumb for even saying it aloud. He knew David wasn’t okay, what he truly wanted to know was if David wanted his company, so they could talk for a while and perhaps distract his mind from his grief.
“Don’t worry about me,” David responded, not directly answering his question. “I’ll be here for a while, so I’ll leave it unlocked for you.”
“Are you sure?” Aksel’s mind still couldn’t find the right words. David simply nodded though, forcing a smile that wasn’t convincing anyone. After that, the natural flow of the conversation led Aksel outside, with the door closing shut behind him.
Should I go back? He contemplated but decided against it. He could hold a conversation well enough, he supposed, but consoling a man who just lost his son? If anything, he’d just say something foolish and make everything worse.
The streets of Carnifex were quite peaceful now, though the Megabear’s rampage had certainly tarnished the villages tranquillity. As he strolled towards the village centre, he noticed signs of activity, even at this time of night. It appeared something amounting to guards were patrolling the streets, a rarity to see in such a small, unwalled settlement. Seeing their presence did help to provide some peace of mind to him in the aftermath of the attack.
Arriving at the centre, he bent down next to one of the wagons crushed underfoot by the rampaging dungeon-kin. All the products and wagons that they could salvage had been moved elsewhere, leaving only those beyond repair behind. Torn clothes, broken bottles, pottery, and even some deformed cutlery were a few of the items he came across, though Perhaps some were left over from that night’s festivities.
“Hey!” The shout drew his attention away from the wreckage. It was a guard, a man perhaps in his fifties, clad in some sort of heavy cloth padding with a short sword tied to his waist—not in a scabbard, but dangling from a loop on his belt. The torch burned close to his face, illuminating his tired visage and enhancing his irked expression.
“Y-yeah?” Aksel responded, wondering if he’d managed to do something wrong by merely looking around.
“What are you doing? Don’t be stealing anything. Just because that stuff’s on the ground doesn’t mean it’s yours for the taking,” the guard told him, one hand resting on his sword hilt.
“I-I’m just looking,” Aksel stammered.
“Good, now move along,” the guard retorted dismissively.
Move along? Who do you think you are? Aksel thought in mild irritation.
“Guards” may have been a strong term. They were more akin to glorified town watches, volunteers made up of some of the villagers and used mostly as a deterrent, a smokescreen show of force to any would-be thief or bandit. Their presence also worked as an early warning system against the larger threats. In short, they held as little authority as Aksel himself.
With everywhere else closed for the night and still feeling unable to sleep, Aksel retrieved the pilgrim’s necklace hidden under his shirt and looked at it briefly, before deciding to visit the church.
The night air was refreshing, if a bit bracing, as the cold breeze rolled across the hill while he ascended to the church. A flickering torch hung by the doors, almost inviting him to come inside, which he gladly accepted. Trying the door, he found it was unlocked, a common occurrence in rural areas like this, for those to pray and seek refuge in the halls of The First. For a moment, his thoughts turned to Hera, who he assumed would be resting at this late hour.
It’s a shame she’s asleep; it would be nice to talk to her again and maybe get her to look at my hand… on second thought, it’s probably best she never sees it, Aksel concluded. When he opened the door and saw someone praying in the first row of pews, he was mildly surprised. To his knowledge, everyone who had lost their homes was offered another place to stay within the village, rather than burdening Hera, so he expected he’d be alone. When he saw who it was, however, his surprise morphed into shock.
“Sir Miya?” Aksel hesitated, a note of caution in his voice. The woman unclasped her hands and rose from her seat. She wore only a simple dark shirt and trousers this time, her armour likely trashed after surviving her near death encounter. The fact that she was even standing after all that was truly remarkable.
“It’s Aksel, isn’t it? It’s nice to finally meet you,” Miya said with a smile.
“L-likewise. It’s nice to officially meet you too, Sir. I just wish I could have made a better first impression.”
“Ha, please, you don’t have to use ‘Sir’, Miya works just as well. Besides, from what Hera told me, you were the one who saved me from the jaws of a megabear, and that was after you saved Jason. If you ask me, you left a pretty good impression,” Aksel felt a wave of joy crash into him from the genuine praise from the knight.
“Thank you, that means a lot coming from you. How are you feeling, by the way, I should have probably asked that first,” he awkwardly scratched the back of his head. “I didn’t expect you to be up and about until long after I left.”
“Not to worry, citizen!” Miya pounded her fist into her chest as she stood to attention. “The First’s light shall never falter in his Faithful,” she announced with the confidence only exuded by a truly devoted follower of the Faith. Relaxing her posture, she scratched her cheek casually. “A liberal use of Hera’s divine essence certainly did wonders too. You may not know it, since I’m a knight and all, but I mostly specialised in support and utility miracles, so I’ve learned how to put myself back together, given enough time and essence. Try not to let my being on two legs fool you, though; I’m still not doing so great. I still consider myself fortunate, all things considered,” Miya’s cheerful demeanour waned, as she turned her eyes away. Seeing this, Aksel tried to steer the conversation to another topic.
“Y-you know, I’m actually looking to become a knight myself. That’s the whole reason I’m traveling,” Aksel confessed.
“A knight? Well, it’ll be good to have someone as reliable as you to join our ranks, Pilgrim.”
“Huh? Oh, I’m not a pilgrim,” Aksel politely clarified.
“Really, you’re not?” Miya seemed a little taken aback. “Then, how come you have that necklace?” Miya pointed to the pendant loosely hanging around Aksel’s neck.
“Oh, that. Hera gave this to me.”
“I see. She shouldn’t be doing that to the uninitiated,” Miya spoke with a playful smirk.
“I did ask if it was okay first before she gave it to me,” Aksel scratched his head, feeling unease under the scrutiny, even if he could tell she wasn’t serious.
“Don’t worry about it. You’ll just have to join us so Hera doesn’t get in trouble,” Miya grinned widely.
“Ha, sound fair enough.”
“Say, would you like to come to Treda-Lake with me?” Miya offered, catching Aksel’s attention. “I’ll be staying here for a little longer to recover and to meet with the Heretica when they arrive, since I’m certain they’ll be all over a resurrecting dungeon-kin like flies on dright. However, if you’re willing to stick around until after that, you can come with me when I make my in-person report. I can almost guarantee you’ll be accepted if you can pass the purity test.
Aksel audibly winced at Miya’s mention of the test, his eyes drifting away as a vivid replay of his nightmare flashed through his mind. A cold rush ran through his body at the mere thought of undergoing such a process.
“Are you alright?” Miya asked, noticing his discomfort. Aksel shifted his gaze towards her as he posed a question.
“How was your purity test?”
“My test? Why do you want to know?” Miya was a tad bewildered by the sudden interest.
“Please, I just need to hear what it’s like. Could you tell me how it was for you?” Aksel clenched his hands together in a fist, forcing himself to confront this feeling head-on. Catching this motion, Miya recounted her own experience.
“Well, I don’t mind. It’s not like it was anything special. I was taken into a small, sealed chamber with Clergyman Silver, I removed everything from the chest up, and she tested me. We went through all the usual stages, starting with the essence being poured onto my skin, then moving on to pushing into the heart— “
“And when it got to your heart, did it hurt?” he interrupted, his voice etched in fear.
“Hurt? Well, it was quite hot, I suppose, but it fades pretty quickly,” she brushed off his concerns.
“Did you ever hear of it going wrong?”
“Going wrong? Like how?”
“Like, someone dying.”
“Not that I can recall. Most of the time, the priest will turn away anyone they think is at risk, and they’re pretty good at catching issues before they get out of hand. At worst, someone might end up going blonde, like me,” she lightly chuckled, referencing the blonde streaks running through her hair. “I won’t lie and say nothing ever goes wrong, but for as long as I’ve been a member, nothing bad has ever happened.”
“I see… that’s good to hear,” Aksel replied, though his voice and eyes betrayed his scepticism as the nightmare replayed in his head again.
“Do you have concerns about the test?” Miya leaned forward, catching his gaze once more.
“I… have these, strange dreams, and last night was about the purity test,” Aksel admitted, a topic he rarely spoke of so openly.
“Oh, would you care to share what happened?” Miya politely asked.
“It’s okay, it’s just a dumb dream, no need to worry.”
“Come on, you saved me from getting eaten, the least I can do is lend you an ear.”
“Well… Okay.” Aksel began explaining his nightmare to her, though he decided to omit the faceless figure and focus more on the test itself.
“I see, so you had a heart attack during the test, and then the essence went wild inside you after the priest lost control,” Miya surmised from his story.
“More or less.”
“Worse yet, it sounds like I was the one who brought you there too.”
“Yeah, that didn’t make it any better,” Aksel remarked.
“Any of that happening to you is one in a million, especially since you’ve been blessed, so please don’t worry yourself. Like you said, it’s just a nightmare.”
“I know, but it just felt so real, it’s hard to ignore.”
“Well, maybe there something we can do to fix that.”
“Fix it?”
“Sure, if you’re planning to stick around for a while, maybe I can help your body adapt to divine essence better. We could do a small, ‘test run’, if you’d like. I bet if we ask Hera nicely, she’d be willing to lend a hand too,” Miya offered.
“Really? You’d be willing to do that?”
“Of course, drop by here in the morning and we’ll get started,” she assured him.
The morning… He thought to himself, weighing his options. At that moment, he truly wished to stay in Carnifex. Receiving any amount of training from a genuine knight would be a dream come true for the aspiring hero. However, he had obligations of his own, not only to Hera, who he told he’d leave the next morning, but more than that, he had to leave before the Heretica arrived.
Ever since he’d learned about Vine’s magical item, he had always feared an encounter with this branch of the faith. They were the branch of the zealous, the purists, more infamously known as the Mage Hunters. Represented by the six wings and halo of The First in the forefront, with a circular image behind it of the blue, crystallised mana, they were the branch of the church tasked with seeking out and eradicating any trace of mana or magic from Mythrin.
Like any organisation, the Faith of The First had a hierarchy all must abide by. At the bottom stood the initiates, those men and women who had passed their purity test and had been deemed worthy to join the order. From there, an initiate will have up to six years to train their mind and body, learning to control their divine essence enough to form their first circle. Once this has been achieved, they will be awarded the rank of Militant—those that make up the body of the church, and its largest fighting force. Once granted the position of militant, the member will be expected to take on active duty within the faith, no longer focusing solely on personal growth. The militant will remain in that position until they have achieved their fifth circle, by which point, they will be pulled from active duty and begin their pilgrimage. After the pilgrim has achieved their required twelve blessings, they will face a choice. Selecting the branch of the faith they most wished to serve.
The Clergy: ascending to become one of the priests, the Faith’s founding pillar that represents the heart of the church.
The Knighthood: ascending to become one of the knights, the Faith’s elite warriors that form its sword and shield against the world.
The Heretica: ascending to become one of the vicars, the specialist hunters of heretics, mages, and dungeon-kin, alongside any other unnatural force deemed enemies of The Heavens and her subjects. Their network of contacts and a large array of field agents made them the eyes, ears, and mailed fist of the Faith.
Despite their official titles being vicars, they are more commonly known as Mage Hunters, a more than apt name given their members very… passionate, dedication to their work. Any magical items they come across are purged, and their wielders are punished accordingly, more so if they attempt to resist. Vine’s bag, for example, would be viewed as equally sinful to a necromantic tome. Anyone without the right connections, therefore, could be declared an unsealer or a restorationist.
Of course, with magic sealed, the crusades complete, and no imminent threat of a resurgence since Akemi—the last summoned hero—perished in her battle against The First himself, their primary focus shifted to stripping former dungeons of their equipment, monsters, and cores. As a result of these efforts, the Divine Kingdom had been rendered almost completely dungeonless. Even some of the proud elven city-states were compelled into letting the Heretica conduct their work in their lands, before they united into a single kingdom under Queen Faelyn Elynore. Most of the dungeons remaining in the world are located in the goblin lands of the Marooned Mountains, the northern frostlands of Issha with the Demi-Humans and Beastlings, and the vast continent of Ayliric that lay to the south, well beyond the boundaries of both the Divine Kingdom and the Faith’s authority.
Knowing what he did about Vine’s nature, he couldn’t afford to accept her offer if it could risk the wrath of the Heretica being brought down on them.
“I’d love to, really I would, but I have… something I promised to do first. One day, though, once I’ve completed this quest, maybe I can try and take you up on that offer again, provided it’s still available.”
Miya smiled broadly. “Not to worry, my offer will stand for as long as I draw breath,” she stated proudly. “I’ll also make sure to give you a glowing recommendation in my report of the incident. Even if the purity test is where it counts, if the higher ups know of your potential, you might find you have an easier time once you pass. Speaking of which, I might need a few extra details from you, like a last name.”
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“It’s Malory, Aksel Malory. Thanks, Miya, and sorry, I’d have really liked to train with you, but I really can’t right now,” Aksel apologised, averting his gaze slightly.
“The First will always look kindly upon those that keep their word. That being said, if you have the time, why don’t you keep me company for a while until you’re ready to head back,” she offered. Aksel nodded in agreement, and they both took a seat on the nearby pew.
---
Lewis Bedford yawned as he completed yet another sweep of the village.
He was bored.
He was cold.
And he was tired.
A few years back, he’d volunteered to be a part of the village watch. He was a hunter by trade, spending his days hunting the wildlife in the massive forest covering the Diton resettlement region. He’d seen just about every native creature in the region, there were your standard rabbits, deer, foxes, etc. All with their own benefits for hunting. Of course, just hunting the normal critters wasn’t impressive enough for his peers, who barely even glanced his way unless he spoke of the latest dungeon-kin he bagged. Then again, it couldn’t be just any old dungeon-kin, oh no. Chamber Wolves—The little bastards best known for jumping out of hidden passages in massive packs—weren’t even worth the air it took to speak about them unless he hit at least the half-dozen mark.
There was no fanfare for taking down Barrier Shells either—annoying buggers that they were, made from tortoises of all things. Sure, they could no longer use mana to enhance their defences, but that didn’t mean they were easy to kill. Oh, when they slowly emerged from the forests to eat the crops, he will be the first to hear of it, after they realised breaking their third shovel on its shell wasn’t improving the situation, or when some idiot lost a finger trying to flip over the walking boulder. The easiest way to kill them, he found, was poisoning some food and leaving it in their path. Nine times out of ten, the daft dungeon brains scoop it right up. A jug of oil could also prove effective when combined with fire to roast them alive inside their shells. However, if he was out of poison and the farmer had a problem with him lighting a fire in the middle of his prized wheatfield, luring them into a well-placed trap and burying them alive was always a sure-fire way to get the job done. The best way to get around a good defence was to ignore it entirely.
So, when the call went out for new village watchmen to serve as lookouts during the daytime, he figured, why not? If nothing else, he could lord it over a few people and get a nice discount at the inn. With any luck, perhaps he could even impress a naive trader girl with some starry-eyed idea that he was some noble, frontier hero, risking his life to keep his friends and family safe from the dangers of the untamed wilderness.
The position worked well with his job. Most of the time he could just disappear, do his own thing and report anything suspicious to Alfred, the man “in charge” of the watch—a rank obtained for simply being a proactive busybody. Well, the gig was the easiest thing ever, since nothing ever happened. He’d usually hunt anything remotely threatening anyway, not that there was anything the village really had to worry about. It wasn’t like the liders were coming back after the Heretica torched half the damn forest down, though that was centuries ago by this point. The region was simply too remote, too poor, and too under-populated to justify anyone even caring about them.
That was until the Megabear appeared, a creature he had never seen before, nor expected to see in this region while he was still carrying the buck he’d caught that morning—and that he never had the chance to retrieve. He’d run like a man possessed to warn everyone, and, thankfully, that freaky-looking third knight managed to divine it to death.
Now, though, Alfred was on his ass telling him that he was on watch tonight, and every other night this week in case another bear attacked. So, here he was, along with all the other men half-assedly wandering the village, staring uselessly into the torchlit night for a creature you would feel before you saw in this visibility. Worse still, he was told to get into full gear, which meant wearing the cheapest, most uncomfortable piece of padded cloth the old bastard could get his hands on.
He wasn’t even sure why he had to wear it. If a second megabear suddenly appeared, the few extra centimetres of padding were hardly going to keep his organs in place if he got trampled. By Nith, the damn thing was barely keeping him warm. If he was going to die anyway, he should at least be comfortable.
While patrolling along the fringes of the village, he came across one of his “co-workers” who had decided to take a load off sleeping under a nearby tree, barely hidden from view. A part of Lewis sympathised with the dozing watchman, but then again, misery does love company. Stepping over to him, Bedford kicked the man’s foot, causing the man to suddenly stir, panic, attempt to draw his sword, slip, and fall flat on his face in the span of a few seconds. Bedford couldn’t help but laugh at the man’s expense, the sight alone almost making this miserable shift worthwhile. Almost.
“Bloodfalls, Bedford. Don’t scare me like that!” The man, Ghent, as he now recognised through the fresh layer of dirt, yelled at him.
“Well, don’t fall asleep in the middle of your patrol, you daft bastard,” Bedford chided playfully.
“Yeah, whatever. I don’t know why we’re even doing this, it’s not like another of the fuckers is going to show up to take revenge.”
“You’re doing it for the same reason I’m doing it, the nice discount David gives for easy work.”
“Yeah, I guess. But Alfred pulling us out of the celebrations to shove us out here in the cold is total dright.”
“Tell me about it, I was this close to landing that trader girl too,” Bedford complained, displaying just how close he was with his fingers.
“Yeah, sure you were.” Ghent assured him with obvious sarcasm.
“Anyway, while I have your attention, tell me, what are your thoughts on our mysterious knight friend that showed up?”
“Oh, her? I saw her at the inn. Damn freaky-looking thing, isn’t she?”
“I know, right? What do you even have to do to get eyes and hair like that?”
“Maybe she used to belong to one of those creepy cults. You know, the ones that don’t worship the fakes or The First, like those idiots that pray to the dungeon cores, or those “Old ones” fucks that like their followers cutting themselves up.”
“What, you think she’s a convert? I’d love to hear that one, from cultist to knight,” Bedford responded, amused by the idea.
“Hey, you never know in this crazy world. Anything is possible.”
“Well, whatever the case, I’m glad she was on our side. Those knights are ridiculous.”
“You know what else is ridiculous? The pair on that ginger she had with her?” Ghent gestured at the size of the girl’s chest with his hands.
“Oh, that one in the skimpy outfit? Tell me about it. I got a good few eyefuls in when I had the chance, I’ll tell you that. I would have totally gone over for a piece too, If I wasn’t worried her friend would break it off if she got offended.”
“HEY!” another voice abruptly entered the conversation, distinct enough for both men to know exactly who it was from that single word alone: Alfred. As the old man approached, they didn’t need to see his face under the torchlight to know he was pissed.
“What’s wrong, Alfred?” Bedford asked, too tired for whatever was about to come his way.
“What’s wrong?! WHAT’S WRONG?! How about there’s a colossal fucking beast from a dungeon sitting in front of our village! Or that August is dead, and the other knight is a fucking cripple in the church! Oh, and to top it all off, I’ve only got a bunch of layabout village idiots as our last line of defence!” Alfred exclaimed at the pair.
Last line my ass. If a bear does actually show up, I’m getting the hell out of here. Bedford thought, already done with the lecture.
“Look, is there something you need from us?” Bedford asked directly.
“I need you two to stop gossiping like a pair of old women and get back on patrol! I saw Ghent was missing when he didn’t make his pass around the southern road, but now I see why.”
“Give it a rest, old man. I’ll get back to it in a minute,” Ghent told the irate Alfred, which didn’t help his mood.
“If this were the army, I’d have you flogged for insubordination! In fact, since the pair of you were here lollygagging instead of being on night patrol, I’d have you both hung for endangering everyone through your incompetence!”
“Well, good thing this isn’t the military, old man,” Bedford shot back.
“No, but I’m going to make damn sure neither of you get your discounts when I speak to David about this,” Alfred threatened the primary perk of the job.
“If I’m not getting my discount anymore, I’m going to bed.” Bedford replied, more than ready to rest after such a hectic day.
“You insolent wretch! If you don’t—" Alfred said, his rage building up like a kettle about to boil over, until he stopped, his mouth left completely agape as his eyes slowly panned up at something behind Ghent and Bedford.
The hunter gave him a quizzical look as he too turned his head to see what had managed to shut the old fool up. He only got half-way, his gaze just passing over his friend, when the jet-black blade came down on Ghent’s head like a lumberjack chopping wood, splitting it in two. The messy spray of warm blood crashed against his face—a sensation that would have made him vomit were he not in complete denial of the situation unfolding in front of him.
W-what?
From the corner of his eye, he saw the person, the monster responsible, its bulging green muscles wielding its devastating greatsword in a single hand. Its body was unarmoured, except for some crude iron gauntlets and boots with furs covering its lower half, while its chest was a wall of scars with abs as hard as a rock. Large tusks jutted out from its lower jaw, more than sharp enough to chomp through his meagre protections. Its nose was slightly misshapen, as though it had been broken and put back together many times before. He locked eyes with the creature—or at least, he stared into the one eye that was visible, a patch covering its left eye, a deep scar cutting above and below the covered area. He recognised the monster immediately, a creature that belonged along the borderlands, working in mercenary bands to ravage and savage everything in their path.
“ORC!” Alfred cried out, drawing his old, worn blade from the loop on his belt, the torch crashing to the ground as he charged forward with a level of martial strength and finesse Bedford assumed were merely boasts to improve his image. Alfred’s blade clashed with the black steel of the green monster. “Bedford! Draw your sword already!” He shouted at the stunned man, snapping him back into reality.
“R-Right!” Bedford stammered, stumbling to draw his weapon. The Orc was tough, but if the two of them attacked at the same time, they had a chance. That idea died however, when the iron-clad hand grabbed Alfred by the head and smashed him against the tree Ghent had been resting under only a few blissful moments ago. As the hand pulled back, it left a dented, deep-red stain where flesh and bone met solid bark. Alfred’s arms went limp at the impact. If he wasn’t dead already, there was no way he’d be useful with a head injury that severe.
The second time the Orc slammed Alfred’s head against the tree cleared up any ambiguity of the situation, the third time reduced the head to pieces, and the couple of times after that turned what little remained into a fine bloody paste—and were wholly unnecessary. Bedford, who had decided that this wasn’t worth dying for, dropped the useless blade and fled as fast as he could for the village, screaming at the top of his lungs.
“WAKE UP—GAAH!” A sharp pain in his right thigh stopped both his legs and his voice in their tracks. An arrow was now sticking out of his leg, the padded cloth doing nothing to save him from its piercing damage.
N-no, not like this, Bedford’s mind pleaded.
The Orc stepped over Alfred’s unrecognisable body as he approached the village. The arrow wasn’t fired by him, however. Instead, a horde of smaller, thinner, and much more animal-like versions of the monster were all running toward him.
“P-please! Someone! Save me!” Bedford called out to the world, but there was no sign of the knights, the watch or any of the other villagers rushing to his aid.
He’d never taken the role of watchman seriously, even after the Megabear attack. That was just a one off, after all, his life was too boring for anything interesting to happen twice in a row. His regret lasted for as long as it took for the little green creatures to slit his throat on their way inside the village.
---
The slowly creaking doors of the church opening caught Aksel’s attention. A woman—maybe in her early thirties—entered with a child grasping her hand. Glancing around, her expression quickly shifted to surprise at seeing Aksel in the church—her shock only growing further as she also spotted Miya.
“Oh, Miya, it’s so good to see you on your feet already. Thank The First,” relief sounded in her voice. With a swift lean to the side, Aksel got a clearer view of who was with her.
“Maranda? It’s good to see you again. What brings you here tonight?” Miya asked.
“I was hoping to see Hera, actually. I know it’s late, but Jason just can’t seem to fall asleep, so I thought she might have something to help him.”
“No problem, let me go get her for you, I’ll be back in a second.” Miya assured the mother, who was clearly more tired than she was letting on. Maranda thanked the knight, who disappeared to the door left of the stage. With just the three of them, she turned to Aksel.
“It was Aksel, wasn’t it?” she asked, manoeuvring Jason in front of her. He’d been cleaned up since the last time he saw him, but even now his face retained the thousand-yard stare he’d worn after seeing August killed in front of him. Aksel knew there was no amount of divine essence or good night’s sleep would heal though scars overnight.
“It is, yes. You’re Jason’s mother, I take it.”
“That’s right, my name’s Maranda. I don’t think I can ever repay you for what you’ve done for me. I don’t know what I’d do without my little boy,” she admitted.
“I’m just happy to know he’s alright now,” Aksel replied, raising his hand slightly in conjunction with his words.
“Jason, why don’t you say thank you to the man here?” Maranda knelt down to Jason’s height, her sweet tone carrying an undertone of desperation as she placed an assuring hand on his back. The boy glanced up at Aksel, who smiled at him in return. Jason, however, didn’t give a response, only staring briefly before his eyes turned distant once more.
“I’m sorry, he’s still not feeling very well right now,” the weak smile on her face betrayed the brave face she was putting on.
“Please, don’t worry about it. I’m sure he’ll be his old self before you know it,” Aksel tried to reassure her. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
“No, no. You’ve done more than enough. If anything, I should be asking you that,” she spoke quickly, her hands waving in front of her. “I hope you aren’t paying for a bed at the inn, if so, I’ll happily give you the money for it. In fact, you and your friends are welcome at our table anytime.”
“Heh, thankfully David waved the fee, he even got us all our own rooms—" Aksel paused, as the door to the church creaked open once more.
I guess a lot of people are having trouble sleeping tonight. Aksel assumed, until the little green creature stepped into view.
“Bloodfalls!” Aksel cursed aloud, instinctively stepping back, the creature’s appearance sending chills down his spine. In the creature’s hand, its nails, grotesquely unkempt through a lifetime of neglect, were digging into the filthy hilt of a dulled and chipped butcher’s knife, still unwashed from the last time it saw use. The crescent pupil of its eyes dilated in shock, surprised to see the three of them standing there. Then, it produced an incomprehensible sound from its mouth. Inside, two rows of incomplete, pointed teeth in varying shades of yellow, surrounded an oversized, gray tongue that seemed too large to fit in its small mouth, a constant dribble escaping from its lips from its overactive saliva production.
It, was a Goblin.
For a moment, Aksel searched the room, expecting to see the oily black figure standing ominously in the corner, assuming this was just a strange extension of his nightmare, yet there was no such creature to be seen. Both mother and child turned to face what had startled Aksel. The creature’s wart-riddled face darted around in a panic, clearly checking that no other people were around to surprise him. Its head swivelled from side to side, revealing the length of its oversized, pointed nose, which extended well beyond its face, as much as its long-pointed ears—the only trait they shared with their much fairer faced, former masters.
Screams echoed throughout the church as the mother and child retreated away from the horrid creature. A sadistic smile spread across the goblins face, the initial panic it once held dissipating as it confirmed there were only the three of them, with the terror it inspired in Maranda of particular interest to it.
Though he was tired and unarmed, Aksel stepped in front of the family, obstructing the goblin’s path, earning him more than a sour look for his efforts. Looking down at the repulsive creature, he began sizing it up. The goblin’s limbs had little meat or muscle on them, akin to a human child. Its stomach was pudgy, bloated like it had just consumed a large meal. Only some crude leather coverings granted the creature any modesty.
In a one-on-one fight, providing the butcher’s knife didn’t find a home in his kidneys, he was reasonably confident he could overpower the creature. It was smaller, weaker, and in a completely lower weight class than him. Moreover, he was smarter. Watching the goblin like a hawk, he readied himself to counter any move it might make.
When the second goblin arrived, however, that was when everything started to fall apart. Soon, those two goblins became four, with a fifth joining their ranks shortly after. Each one was armed, and all seemed disturbingly pleased with the situation.
Oh… Bloodfalls, Aksel cursed internally.
One goblin was manageable, two was unlikely, three was suicidal, four was impossible, and five… Well, it was a good thing he was a man of the Faith because he needed a miracle. Though each of the weapons wielded by the creatures appeared crude and in poor condition, it was still a damn sight more than he had. Once again, he’d been caught in a situation without so much as a stick to defend himself. Cursing his constant oversight on this issue, he vowed to The First that if he survived, he’d buy a damned short sword and never let it leave his side.
The five approached them slowly, revelling in the fear they instilled. Aksel had little choice but to join Maranda and Jason in their retreat further into the church, keeping himself between the family and the goblins, for what little good it would do. Their psychopathic giggles, resembling the pitch of an eight-year-old with a sore throat full of phlegm, echoed around the church. Soon enough, the three of them had backed up to the stage, the goblins already covering half the length of the nave. Quickly, he tried to weigh his options, judging the distance to the door Miya left through and calculating if they could make it there in time before the goblins caught up. He looked at the five creatures once more, their tongues lolling out of their mouths in glee.
A bolt of golden light embedded itself in the front goblin’s eye with a disgusting squelch, it’s head knocking to the side with the force of the impact, dragging the rest of its body down to the ground in a heap. Aksel stared at the arrow sizzling in the monster’s eye for a short while before turning to see where it was fired from. Miya stood by the doorway to his right, her heavenly bow drawn, already knocking another arrow. It took little time for the other monsters to recognise the danger, and they all rushed for cover behind the pews to avoid the same fate as their comrade. Aksel met the knight’s gaze for a moment.
“Everyone, get over here now!” Miya commanded the three, who were more than happy to comply. “Maranda, Jason, get inside. Hera, pass Aksel my sword and get this church activated.” After the mother and child retreated into the room, Hera appeared by the door, clearly dressed for bed in a sleeping gown, and handed Aksel the familiar blade hilt-first.
“Just stall them for a few minutes; I’ll take care of the rest,” Hera promised, a determined glint in her eye.
His hand hesitated to take up the offered blade. However, when he glanced at Miya, the injured knight fervently searching for targets and pushing herself to protect everyone in the church, he found the resolve he needed and firmly took hold of the sword.
“I know you’re not a soldier or have even undergone initiation yet, but if you can just cover the door while I dispatch these pests, you’ll have done more than enough,” Miya said, her eyes constantly scanning the room. Despite her composed demeanour, he could tell her injuries were still bothering her, or she would have insisted he hide in the back like the others.
Well, I may not be a hero of The Heavens, but I can still be that wannabe that helps wherever he can, Aksel told himself, resolving to help Miya defend the church.
“You’re a pretty good archer, right? I’ll try to flush them out and give you a clear shot,” Aksel proposed, gripping the sword with both hands.
“There’s no need to impress me. I can take them out myself.”
“That’s good, because it’s really not going to be that impressive,” he said, already eyeing a green dome cresting the top of a nearby pew as his first target.
“If you’re willing, I won’t turn down your offer. Just be careful.”
With Miya’s sword held close to his chest, he moved around the side of the pews toward his quarry. The goblin barked its inexplicable language the moment Aksel came into view and bellowing his war cry: “AAAAAAAH!” he charged towards the foe. Isolated, and with Miya serving as his fire support, the monster had little chance of being rescued.
The weight of the sword remained uncomfortable in his grip; Miya’s weapon was simply too heavy for him to wield effectively. It felt more akin to swinging a club than using a finely forged blade. As he was right now, he was no substitute for a true knight. Fighting between the pews wasn’t ideal either—a space scarcely large enough for an adult to walk through. However, it did offer certain advantages.
Aksel swung his sword down on the goblin, but his attack was too sluggish for the nimble, potbellied creature, who leaped backward, evading Aksel’s strike. The goblin attempted to counterattack, but found it couldn’t even get close to Aksel, not while his sword was blocking his path.
Aksel didn’t have to kill his opponent to win, he didn’t even have to land a single blow. He just had to drive it out into the open. For the goblin to even consider taking a stab at Aksel, it needed to jump up on the pews to give it more space to maneuvre. However, unless it wanted Miya to add a few extra speed holes in its skull, that wasn’t going to work. With his opponent almost helpless in the tiny corridor it had to work with, Aksel thrust the tip of his blade toward the increasingly panicked goblin’s face. He treated his weighty weapon more like a spear, poking it along. Desperately, the goblin tried to parry Aksel’s weapon, but there simply wasn’t the space or power behind its attacks to pull it off. Having little choice, the monster was forced to cede its ground piece by piece until it found itself in the open. The goblin gave the equivalent of a gasp as its head turned to see the divine archer on the stage waiting for it. The arrow swiftly pierced its skull, sending its lifeless body flopping to the ground.
That’s one! Aksel thought, uplifted at seeing his plan working out. Just three more to go.
Aware that another goblin lurked on the right side of the church, hidden between the pews, he began his next search. However, it was already over in an instant when he turned his head to see the creature already in mid-leap, its dagger poised to stab right into his neck. Experiencing the sensation known only to those who have royally screwed up, he attempted to bring his weapon up to defend himself.
Another perfect headshot from Miya saved Aksel’s life, as the domed goblin limply barged into Aksel’s shoulder, bouncing to the side and rolling onto its back, tongue lolling out.
“Don’t get distracted! There’s still two more of them,” the sharpshooter scolded him, her attention already turned to the last two goblins still hidden in the church. “They’re together, towards the back row.”
With more than half of their comrades killed, the remaining goblins seemed to have decided to cut their losses and make for the exit, sprinting for the still-open door as fast as they could.
“They’re trying to escape!” Miya shouted, with Aksel not close enough to intercept them before they could flee. A freshly drawn arrow lanced straight through the torso of one of the creatures, dropping it to the ground. However, her last reload was just a hair’s breadth too slow to make her final shot, as the final goblin disappeared.
“I’ll get him!” Aksel shouted without a second thought, pursuing the creature into the night.
“Wait! Aksel! Get back here! Don’t go alone!” The knight exclaimed as he exited the church in pursuit. Cursing, she leaped off the stage to follow him, but the impact, however small, caused her broken legs to lose the fragile patchwork of essence holding them together while they healed. With a cry of pain, she tumbled to the ground, unable to stand back up. She knew it was far too soon for her to be on her feet, let alone get into combat, but she didn’t have the luxury to sit this one out. Looking deep within herself, she felt just how meagre her reserves of essence were, but it would have to do. Salvaging what essence she could, she started the tedious process of getting her legs back in working order.
He better not get himself killed out there, she thought, as the heavenly aura of the church finally activated, and Hera came running out to assist the knight.
---
Aksel descended the hill in pursuit of the fleeing goblin, witnessing the village below illuminated by the ominous orange glow of the burning buildings. The cacophony of clashing metal, splintering wood and blood-curdling screams filled the air, leaving the once peaceful village a grim picture of chaos and destruction.
Damn it! What’s going on?! Was the bear not enough?!” he thought, finally catching up to the monster before it could escape. Panicking, its eyes turned in time to see Aksel taking a swing at it. With all the finesse of a rock falling off a cliff, the goblin dove to the ground, avoiding the strike. Now sprawled out on the floor, it turned to face the human standing over it, completely at his mercy.
Aksel had it now. The creature was now prone, weak, with no hope of escape. He thrust his sword up to the creature’s neck, cutting into its green flesh enough to draw blood… But then he stopped, the weight of his blade feeling a hundred times heavier than before as he held such personal control over life and death.
J-just kill it. It’s a goblin, you know what they do, he thought to himself, his arm trembling. He knew all the stories, aware of the atrocities they commited against people, likely unfolding in the village at that very moment. Peering into its face, it was more than clear this goblin belonged to the more feral, unreasonable variety among their people.
Just push the blade into its… into its… is, is the goblin crying?
Indeed, as it lay on the ground with hands pathetically held out in front of itself, the goblin seemed to have been brought to tears. Despite its warty, disgusting features, the monster displayed a genuine look of fear on its face, its eyes pleading for mercy. It made noises like a hurt puppy, albeit with a throat full of phlegm. It was such a pitiable sight, seeing the beaten, dirty, disarmed goblin with his sword at its throat. The goblin’s entire body trembled, as Aksel stood at a crossroads. He’d never killed anything so intelligent before, something capable of displaying this level of emotion and remorse. Despite knowing the goblins brutal reputation, he couldn’t help but feel he was holding a sword up to a child’s throat. Glancing once more towards the village, the echoes of death still reaching him from below, he gritted his teeth, and applied more pressure to the monster’s neck, its wincing spiking in volume.
“Surren—" Aksel found himself speaking to the creature. “Surrender, right now! Show me you understand! Say you surrender!” He semi-screamed his demand, eyes transfixed on the goblin has he anxiously watched for any sign it understood him.
“Zu-zuanda.” Its broken speech managed to communicate, accompanied by a hesitant nod. Aksel couldn’t be certain the monster understood the true meaning of those words, or if it was merely imitating what it heard in a desperate bid to save its life. Whatever the truth was, that singular broken word was enough for Aksel’s conscience to prompt him to retract his sword, letting it hang limply by his side.
I couldn’t do it, he thought, relieved, yet disappointed at himself in equal measure. Meanwhile the orange glow from the fires below seemed to have expanded, as the sounds of untold death echoed throughout Carnifex. Turning his gaze back up the hill, he expected to see Miya making her way down. To his surprise, however, she was nowhere to be seen.
I could have sworn she was right behind me, he thought, realizing he now had a new problem to contend with—how to deal with his new goblin prisoner. It turned out that accepting surrender was much easier in his daydreams when he could just pass it off to someone else to deal with after the day was saved. Here though, there was only him.
Do I, like, tie it up? He wondered, obviously not carrying anything to bind his new prisoner with. Well, maybe Hera can throw him in the basement, or a room, or even a chest somewhere until we get this figured out. Aksel scratched his head, glancing back and forth between the goblin and the church up the hill, hoping a solution would present itself soon. The nearest prison, to his knowledge, was over in Treda-Lake, but even then, he wasn’t sure goblins had the right to go to prison.
In my daydreams, when it was something like this, they always used to… just promise to never do anything wrong again and leave. Or they fled so fast I didn’t catch them. Does… does that apply here? He pondered, genuinely trying to come up with some way to solve his prisoner dilemma. Would the goblin even understand the concept? Bloodfalls, would it even keep its word if it did?
Pinching the bridge of his nose at the mess he’d made for himself, he began his proposal. “Look,” he turned to the goblin, “just start running in a direction, any you like, and don’t ever think of attacking another human settlement—”
The rock smashing into his forehead put an end to his dilemma. “—AHHH! FUCK!” he cried as flecks of blood covered his eyes, blinding him. He dropped his sword, moving backward while rubbing his eyes clean when he slipped and fell.
FUCK! he cursed in his mind, grunting in pain as he fell. He opened his eyes, regardless of what was in them, his mind desperate for visual input. The rock-throwing goblin stood over him with its dagger back in hand, pointed and ready to run through his heart. He was defenceless, lying on his back with no sign of help arriving. Aksel felt what the goblin must have experienced only moments ago, although unlike him, this monster wasn’t hesitating, and no amount of tears was going to change its mind.
There was no time to think. As the dagger came down, Aksel shoved his hands forward to block the attack. The short blade punctured straight through the flesh on his left hand, exiting the other side by a few inches. The oversized hilt of the weapon punched into his palm, stopping it from progressing any further.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!” Aksel’s agonizing scream echoed through the air, the worst pain he’d ever experience searing into his hand. The goblin, instead of withdrawing his weapon, started applying more pressure, pushing the blade through his perforated hand down towards his chest. Quickly, Aksel used his other hand to support the makeshift flesh shield, trying to prevent it from sinking into something more vital. He could feel the skin being sliced open, the uncomfortable sensation of his bone grinding against metal. But, to survive, he had no choice but to endure the ordeal, pushing through the excruciating pain.
Shoving his mangled appendage against the dagger’s hilt, he managed to stop the blade just short of piercing his ribs. While Aksel fought to keep the blade from dropping any further, the goblin switched his grip, sacrificing precision for power as it used both hands to push down fiercely on the human, attempting to overpower him.
In terms of physical strength, humans outclassed goblins almost every time, and while Aksel wasn’t the strongest among his kind, he should have possessed more than enough power to repel the goblin. Unfortunately, with his arms wedged between the ground behind him and the dagger in front, he simply wasn’t able to muster the strength to push the creature away, especially with his hand being sliced open.
The goblin’s dagger slowly descended towards Aksel’s heart once more, his mind scrambling for a way out. He couldn’t kick it off, fearing he might inadvertently push the creature closer. Miya or anyone else who could help was nowhere to be seen either, but he held his tongue, refusing to call out, expecting only other goblins to respond to such a call at this point.
The only thing I can do is steer the thing, he thought, his hand shifting to the right and left while the goblin was occupied with pushing down.
With little other option, he used the strength he could spare to shift the blade’s tip away from his heart, pointing it towards his lower left shoulder instead. As expected, the goblin didn’t try too hard to adjust, simply attempting to stab the human with all its might. With little time left, Aksel readied himself for the pain and allowed the dagger to fall.
His body reeled in agony from his wound, as his hand was pinned against his shoulder like a poster on a notice board. Pushing it aside for future nightmares, he used his remaining free hand to counterattack the grinning goblin, who seemed so proud of his handy work.
With a grip strength that could crush an apple, Aksel’s right hand seized the monster by the throat, and, shifting his body weight, slammed it to the floor with such force that he likely left a dent in the ground. The goblin’s eyes widened with the realisation of its mistake, and began clawing at Aksel’s arm, tearing at the skin repeatedly. Determined to hold it down regardless of the consequences, he positioned himself on top of the monster. Slowly, he extracted his pinned hand out of its incredibly painful and uncomfortable position in his shoulder, leaving a nasty, bloody hole. The dagger remained buried up to the hilt in his hand, dripping with his own blood, but that was fine—it was all he would need.
Now he had a weapon. All he had to do was use it.
Aksel turned his hand around and bit into the hilt of the blade. He ignored the taste as the expected waves of agony hit him while he wrenched his left hand free, leaving the gaping hole in his palm that made him want to throw up. Trembling, his left hand took hold of the blade the proper way this time and aimed it at the goblin beneath him. The monster’s hands flew out in a panic, trying to stop what was to come, but it was too late. In a single, mighty swing, the dagger came down right onto the goblin’s eye.
Even after the goblin had stopped screaming, even after it had stopped twitching, Aksel kept the blade in there, not relenting for a second. He refused to let his guard down, haunted by the fear this creature might return like the Megabear. His eyes were wild and desperate, unwilling to look away, his jaw clenched so tight that his teeth felt like they would crack under the pressure. He stopped breathing, his entire being solely focused on ensuring this monster’s demise. The seconds he spent like that felt like hours, his hand losing all feeling as he tightened his grip more and more.
“—sel! Aksel! AKSEL!” A familiar voice was beside him, calling his name, but even then, he wouldn’t look away. The voice was a distraction, and he wouldn’t be caught off-guard again. He had always been too careless and it almost cost him his life this time.
Not this time, not this time!
“Aksel! It’s dead! You need to get off it!” the voice said again, pulling at his arms. He resisted, however, shoving the dagger in even harder than before, pushing against the goblins skull as though hoping to crack it open.
You’re not going to trick me this time!
“Bloodfalls, Aksel! Enough! It’s over!” Two hands grabbed his head and forced him to turn away from the goblin despite his vehement resistance. When his line of sight broke away from the creature, he found himself face to face with Miya, her face marred with concern.
“It’s dead, Aksel, it’s dead, you can stop.” She spoke, her voice far calmer and more collected now. Aksel started to breathe once again, his mind slowly rebooting, allowing for more complex thoughts than simply KILL. He found himself releasing the grip on the hilt and glancing over to see his bloody hand, now raw from how tightly he was holding the blade. Before he knew it, he began trembling uncontrollably.
“H-He tried- I- I almost- I-I-I just- I didn’t want- didn’t want to-“ he could feel himself on the verge of breaking down. Miya once again forced him to look at her.
“Aksel, just look at me, okay? You did it. It’s over now, you’re going to be alright.” Miya tried her best to calm him down. That was the first time Aksel had ever killed something so intelligent before, and he never wanted to go through it again.