The clanking of chains. The sinister laugh as I was tortured. My blood splashing around. The feeling of dread when the Queen first used magic in front of me.

I wake up breathing sharply.

“I almost long for the days when my dreams were visions of Sylvar’s past.” I mutter.

I realize that, lately, I am talking to myself. Probably some way to deal with what is happening. No matter how welcoming some goblins are, most of them want to hang my guts over their watchtowers, out of fear if anything else.

I walk with haste but precision. After asking around for a while, a goblin guides me to Snaray and the blacksmith of this section of the caves.

“Is it ready?” I ask.

The goblins around me change their demeanor, reflecting the severity of today’s fight. They understand this is not just some risky event.

“Yes.” The blacksmith goblin says.

An obvious thing suggesting its blacksmith job is the myriad of burns that cover its arms. Different spots, various sizes.

I cannot remember Blago’s hands. It has barely been a month. What would happen in a year? I do not have that long to find out, anyway.

“Can you help me put it on?” I remove my torn shirt.

“Of course.” Snaray’s daughter says, instead of the blacksmith.

“Oh. Sorry, did not see you there.” I respond.

Snaray and his daughter help me out with my new armor. It provides platings that protect my right arm, improving the stability of the sling as well. It also has various holsters that are made specifically for throwing knives. While putting them in place takes time, the drawing of the knives is quick and efficiently allows me to throw them with my left arm from any position.

Shoulder plates are not too heavy. They are mostly there to deflect a weak spear thrust or misguided missile. The left chest area is covered in metal, while the right is not, mostly because of my arm. There were mobility issues to consider with my injured state. Cured leather is used for the right side’s protection of my upper torso. While it is relatively thick, it does not seem to make my turns slower.

“This is good quality.” I nod at the blacksmith.

“I have the rest.” The blacksmith responds.

“I will put them on my own. I am not undressing in front of everyone.” I chuckle.

“Let us go to my tent. Private.” Snaray says.

“I guess you can help me. Please?” I beg, knowing that at least Snaray has seen my private parts before, all those months ago in the woods. Terrible memory.

“Sure.” Snaray responds.

Away from other eyes, Snaray helps me put on the rest of my armor.

The pants are reinforced with cured leather in all the parts that need to move. The goblin blacksmith did not know what greaves were, so I had to explain my recollection of Blago’s armor. I had forgotten to put them on when Daldrag captured me, thinking I was only meeting up with friendly gray goblins.

Another mistake to pile on top of the rest.

Goblins do not wear shoes so there were none for me. It was a perfect chance for these past few weeks to make my feet stronger. They no longer bleed just by walking on these harder cave surfaces.

However, I was able to convince the blacksmith to make me hardened boots, reinforced with sheets of metal between the layers of soles at my feet.

“Careful.” I say.

“Trying. Stop moving so much.” Snaray nags.

“Your clothes are so itchy.” I respond.

“Makes for tougher skin.”

“I do not think that is how it works.” I chuckle.

Thin metal plates on the outside of my thighs increase my armor but I feel like they will not stop a good slash. The holsters for two axes are also easy to use with my left hand, so I can always just throw them in a critical situation.

Those goblins will aim for my legs and my right side. They will not play fair and my armor is not completely covering my weak points. Still, better than nothing.

“You better not die.” Snaray says, tightening my belt.

“Worried they will kill you?” I ask.

“Me? After seeing me run up the troll with chains? I am a hero around here. But I do not want to lose someone who was kind enough to give me a name.”

There are so many things I want to say. Despite recent events, I still consider him a friend. I still want him to live and be the one to help me bring these caves and my Village together. So many things.

“I am sure Daldrag could kill you. Especially if he is angry enough.” I chuckle.

Coward. Of course I avoid asking the things that truly matter.

“True. Weapons and armor ready. You sure you want a helmet? The visibility will be worse.” Snaray asks.

“Certain. You said those four goblins are all good fighters, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then I need all the protection I can get. They will want to pierce my arm and my guts, but I should not give them extra weak points. Also, we rip that visor off.” I sigh.

“Right.” Snaray says, picking up a hammer.

After a few dents and wrestling with the metal, the visor that drops in front of the helmet is removed. I just have to be careful with letting them get a free attack on my face.

“Off we go.” I say, wearing the helmet.

“Do not forget the gloves.” Snaray reminds me.

“Right.”

What awaits us outside can only be described as a sea of goblins. All shouting and waving at me or spitting in my direction.

“Remember their abilities.” Snaray says.

“I know.” I respond.

Snaray spent a good amount of time talking to me about the four goblins’ capabilities.

“Kill them.” Snaray’s daughter says, jumping on my shoulder.

Apparently, they are good warriors and that is the reason why they have a lot of followers. All four of them achieved something important and since they have the same opinions about me, they can coordinate against Snaray and me.

Snaray and his daughter guide me to a makeshift arena, as they call it. If they call it an arena, why are the events called pit fights, though? I do not care enough to ask.

There are hobgoblins here watching.

The Queen’s Guard?

I do not see any equipment but that is a requirement, according to Snaray. There is a level of trust in these pit fights. Or a lack of it in the sight of weapons. There are some cages around this arena. Snakes, wolves and plenty of human sized bugs. Wonder what for.

“Looked at the Sun for the last time?” Daldrag growls.

He was waiting for me. Makes sense.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

“No worries. I will see it in a bit.” I grin.

Daldrag simply grunts and moves away.

The pit is more elaborate than I thought. Were they working on it the whole night? Large wooden fence in a circular pattern, spikes put around the outer edges so it is harder to run away. They may also be there so they can be used against someone.

I have two axes on my left leg holsters, four knives on my chest, one knife on my left ankle in case of an emergency, three more knives on my belt. Plenty of weapons to use. I should make sure they are not wasted.

The crowd is overwhelming. I am not used to so many people together. Goblins from all tribes are here, even hanging from the walls of the cave for a better view of the upcoming fight. Wooden platforms that were there for spying on me are now used as an opportunity to see death from above. The shouting, riling, running around. It is enough to give me a headache.

“I hope you last a bit, human.” An ogre says, its voice shaking my lungs.

What are ogres doing here? How rare of a sight is this?

“How rare of a sight is this, Snaray?” I ask.

“We often hold pit fights against captive humans. It keeps the goblins entertained and stops the infighting thing that happens usually.” He responds.

What? How cruel can they be? Capturing and toying with their enemies?

“Lots of goblins suffer the same fate on the other side. Forced to hunt across plains for a scrap of food, return with a prize. More common than you think.” He continues.

I start panting, unable to process this new information. What is going on over there? How many fights are ahead of me? Do I even want to know?

“Hey, think about the fight. Nothing else. Come on.” Snaray slaps my leg.

“Right.” I respond. “Where are they?”

“You will meet them inside.” Snaray’s daughter says.

I walk towards what seems like the entrance to the pit. After a signal from a red goblin that sits on top of the fence, I stop.

A shout seems to silence every eager person in the cave, as Zamayular walks inside the pit. He starts talking in goblin language, making it impossible for me to understand what he is saying. I can still guess, though. Stupid human, fighting strong goblins, have fun and watch him die. Stuff like that.

“He says-”

“No need.” I interrupt Snaray’s daughter.

I need to focus on the fight ahead, not whatever this is.

What is more important is that Zamayular is here. Which means I cannot use my magic first. He could easily suppress it and tell the crowd that I am cheating. I need to wait until one of the goblins use magic, if they even have it.

Daldrag did say something about any and all blades. Maybe that is a rule that means weapons only. Four goblins, all of them experienced warriors and probably effective at working as a group. If I spend too much time on any one of them, the others will stab me to death. On the other hand, I cannot afford to waste time and wait for their move.

Zamayular ends his speech with a flourish of arms and a surge of magical flares, exciting the crowd further. He moves closer to me, talking as he walks by.

“Show them all you got. No more chances.”

He is weird.

It is not as if he likes me. The hobgoblin acts more like a kid excited to see a colony of ants. The kid wants to play with the ants, throwing water inside their anthill. Does not really care about the ants, it merely want to be entertained by them.

I walk inside the pit, as the four goblins I am to fight gather opposite me. The Forager is wielding a spear, the Warrior is holding a knife and an axe, the Jeweler is holding a javelin with more kept inside a pouch and the Scar is holding a short sword and has two knives on his belt.

Shit. This is going to be harder than I thought.

“When do we start?” I shout across the pit.

The crowd stops the noise as soon as they understand that the two sides are trying to communicate. This fight is truly exciting to them.

The Jeweler snarls at some goblins, followed by the throwing of a helmet. The Jeweler kicks it over to me.

“Throw this.” The Warrior says. “When it hits the ground, we fight.”

Making the guy with the one useful arm throw stuff? Look at them, trying to get ahead.

“Fine.” I say.

I take an axe out, readying myself for whatever it is that has my heart beating as if ready to explode. Like I do not know what. It is the knowledge that I will either kill all of them quickly or they will kill me slowly.

I use my leg to kick the helmet high, surprising the goblins.

The moment it lands, I dash ahead. Shouts erupt as the fight starts.

The Forager moves to my right, obviously wanting to target my weak side with the spear’s range. The Warrior moves straight at me, while the Scar attacks from the left. The Jeweler throws a javelin, covering the others’ advance.

I manage to deflect the javelin using the axe and twisting my body out of its path. We converge in the middle, where I use a kick to send the helmet flying at the Warrior. It finds purchase in the shoulder but does not cause any significant damage.

It does give me enough time to target the Scar. I slash diagonally, which the Scar avoids, quickly lunging at me with the short sword. Knowing that the lunge would be the choice, I drop the axe as soon as my attack motion ends, knocking the blade away.

These gloves are really strong. Cured leather, reinforced with beads of metal, able to withstand attacks from people weaker than me. Like goblin blades without the proper momentum.

The moment the blade is out of my way, I use a knee attack to send the Scar a few steps back. I instinctively jump away, knowing the Forager wants to skewer me with that spear. I am right. The attack is slower, though. The Forager is scared of me, did not expect this sudden flurry of blows.

They were not expecting me to be this fast or this strong.

I throw a dagger at the Jeweler, at the same time a javelin finds me in the left leg. I shout, pulling the javelin out. Normally, breaking it would be better but I need both hands to do it quickly enough. No time. The Jeweler is unharmed.

The Warrior attacks me and I use the javelin to deflect the strikes. This goblin is quick and efficient. Aiming for my vital parts. Mostly sticking to attacks on my right side. I focus on defending against the axe, merely dodging the knife attacks due to the limited range.

I use one strong thrust to send the Warrior back, which it dodges then quickly throw the javelin at the Jeweler. I do not miss this time. Straight in the chest. The Jeweler drops to the ground, thrashing around as the blood floods the stone quickly, killing one enemy.

The mistake was worrying about the distance between us and not staying mobile. All in an effort to avoid hitting any of the goblins with the javelins. That just gives me an easy mark to hit.

I grab one of the knives and throw it at the Forager, who decides to dodge the knife and then pierce me with the spear. I turn to face the elongated weapon but quickly realize something is wrong. There is a delay in the attack itself.

A feint. I look at the other two goblins and move away from them at the same time. The Warrior throws an axe at me, which finds its way inside my left forearm. I keep moving away, dodging the Scar’s attacks.

The spear is too much of a threat, occupying too many of my thoughts.

Focus.

I pull out a knife and use it to lock the Scar’s blade with mine. The scar pulls out a knife as well and stabs me. One good stab but unfortunately aimed at my right side. Sparks fly out as the knife finds only thick metal protecting my arm.

I do not give enough time for a second stab as I headbutt the goblin so hard, it lands on the ground. I kick it once in the head but find myself against the spear again.

Too many things happening at once.

I am not dying here.

I do not manage to block the spear, as it penetrates my chest armor just above my right arm, pushing me back. The Scar takes a slash at my injured leg, causing me to fall down. I use the momentum to pull the spear with me, dropping my knife and throwing the Forager towards the quickly rushing Warrior.

While on the ground, I throw a knife at the Scar, hitting the head. The eyes tense and the whole body goes limp.

How many knives do I have?

Five, ready to throw. No axes. Except the one that is currently lodged in my arm.

I quickly grab another knife, using it to push myself off the ground and roll away from the Warrior, who is trying to slash me with Scar’s short sword. I dodge one strike, then throw the knife at the Warrior, hitting the guts, blood dripping down the stone. The Warrior is shocked, dropping on its knees, unable to do anything else. Just looking at the outcome it did not expect.

I get back up, only to be lunged at by the Forager, who grabs the axe on my arm. Shit, I cannot pull away and I cannot exactly go for another weapon while this close to the threat.

“I will not die.” I shout, kicking the goblin away and moving my left arm with such force that both the axe and the Forager go flying behind me.

I rush the Warrior, picking the short sword up and decapitating the goblin.

I only now realize that the shouts are not as loud as before. This feeling. I miss this feeling. The shedding of any second guessing, the burning sensation of purpose. The ease of small choices, one after the next.

One goblin left. One short sword and four knives. Not that I need all of these options.

The Forager now looks truly scared, knowing the fight is already over. I slowly lean down, removing the helmet and grabbing the Warrior’s head from a clump of hair, showing it to the one remaining enemy. I want everyone around here to know who I am.

I walk over, waiting for any movement.

The Forager makes a horizontal slash, easily avoidable. I simply take a step back, as another strike aims for my left shoulder, this time a downward strike. I step inside the attack, using an elbow to break the wooden shaft of the axe and a knee to strike the goblin’s lungs.

As the Forager is gasping for breath, I raise the decapitated head and swing it down like a weapon. Sick thuds, one after another. Bones breaking, blood flying all around me. The damage makes it difficult to hold the head properly, so I put my fingers inside the eye sockets and use it like a heavy stone, repeatedly bashing the Forager.

“Am… I… Strong… Enough… Now?” I say, rage filling my entire body.

My voice echoes through the cave, filling the dreadful silence.

After dozens of strikes, I finally take a step back and drop the disfigured head.

I walk off the pit, as the crowd slowly gets back to its normal behavior, shouting and talking in the language I do not understand, pretending like I did not just dominate this fight. I can guess they want more of those fights, though.

As the doctor rushes me, I raise my hand in an effort to make him stop. I only want one thing now.

I start walking, ignoring every reason to delay my deepest desire in this moment. I get all the way to the outside of the mines, finally looking up.

The rain caresses my face, reminding me the pleasures of nature I have not experienced lately. I will again. Soon.

“No Sun today.” Snaray says, having followed me around.

“This is better.” I say. “I have to earn the Sun.”

The clouds give a graying view of the surrounding parts, contradicting the vibrant greenery of trees and grass. My blood is being mixed with water. I run my hand all over my head and face, clearing away the mud and dirt that has become part of my skin these days.

Soon, I will bathe in my Village’s river.

But not yet.

“What does she want me to do?” I ask.

I find myself grinning uncontrollably. The truth is that I could go for a few more fights today. Finding strength is a mysterious thing. It makes me enjoy things that would otherwise seem stressful. What almost brought me to my knees before the slaughter is something I am looking forward to now.

“You noticed me?” Zamayular chuckles. “Get your fill. Then we can talk while they tend to your wounds.”

I fought four goblins with nothing but disadvantages. One arm. And I won. I did not have to think about any moves. Not Blago’s, Meuko’s, Sylvar’s. I forgot about them during this fight. There was no worry about their techniques, only the use of mine. Is it the strength or the isolation that leads to such a different outlook on training and brutality?

Who is next?