[ 00:03:21 until the next wave ]

Defensive barricades blocked the road to the Gaia Core. In French, they called it cheval de frise, sharp sticks attached in an x-shape, but Tanuki simply referred to them as…

“The fucky things,” he leaned against the Gaia Core, crossing his arms as he explained to Woodrow, “The goblins will have to zigzag around unless they want to get impaled. This means we can predict their course and shoot ‘em down without trouble.”

The rest of the plantfolks scrambled to get into position. Though the bow did not fit them well, they spent the last day training in-between building the fucky things and by now, they could land every third shot.

Only one was missing, but that was due to Tanuki’s orders. The young plantfolk’s arms were too weak for the bow, thus he was made to play the NPC slot machine while the rest fought.

Edgar walked down the dirt road after promising to do one last check-up. He locked his hands behind his back and anxiously fidgeted his fingers. After a while, he realised he could not feel the pain of digging his fingernails into his skin and put both hands into his pocket before he could harm himself.

Six walked by him. Edgar turned his way, but the warrior was too deep in thought to notice.

It had been some time since he fought. Back in Yoshimura, he only ever faced familiar foes, the kind he knew how to fight against. Goblins were a new kind of beast, and the sense of unfamiliarity they brought with them worried him.

Six knew his person reached way above the individual; he carried the weight of an entire culture and its morale. No matter how much he desired to fulfil his destiny, below the mythic status plantfolks crowned him with, he was a simple man and one whose hands clenched the handle of his sword tighter than usual.

“All clear,” Edgar spoke once he approached Tanuki. The boy simply nodded, which prompted him to question, “My Liege, are you not afraid?”

“Me? I’m not fighting,” he motioned to his arm, “It’s broken.”

“No, it’s not,” Woodrow added.

“Whatever it is, I cannot move it.”

The Gaia Core’s internal clock ticked down. The less time they had, the louder it grew.

Edgar waited a little before rephrasing his question. “I’m talking about this wave. Are you not afraid of losing?”

“I won with worse odds before,” he laughed, “This will be a walk in the park. What is it, five goblins? What can they do, throw stones and dried poop at us? Hell, I bet I could beat them to death with just one arm!”

Woodrow nodded with admiration, but Edgar’s face showed less satisfaction. For that reason, Tanuki leaned close to him and whispered so only he would hear.

“I got no clue what to expect, but a leader must look confident in front of his people.”

As if he had just told a joke, he leaned back against the crystal with a grin to avoid raising suspicions. Edgar thought about it for a second and, giving him one last glance, retreated behind the Gaia Core.

The evening sun met with the horizon. The sky grew warm with orange and red. Had it been as powerful as the sun Tanuki knew, it would have greatly affected the archer’s ability to aim. Fortunately, he did not need to think of that.

When only a minute remained, Tanuki took a deep breath and got to his feet. He passed by the eager line of plantfolks, wishing them good luck as he got around the barricade.

The plantfolks turned to each other with confusion. When Tanuki said he would command them, everyone expected he would stay behind and use them as the last line of defence.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“What are you doing?” Woodrow lowered the bow and called out to him.

“Being a leader, or something like that.”

There were eight rows of barricades, each with six different parts placed so it would be impossible for the goblins to charge through. A few meters after they set up a wall of sharp sticks, only so tall that Six could reach above with his sword and stab opponents before they could break through.

Six had already unsheathed his wooden sword and played out the scenario in his mind. He was so lost in thought that the approaching footsteps only reached him once they were right behind his back.

Tanuki was the last person he would have expected on the frontline, especially given his broken arm. What surprised him the most was the boy’s unusually confident smile.

Tanuki adjusted his glasses with his healthy arm, then scratched the back of his head.

“I must confess, I had something cool prepared for this moment, but it doesn’t matter anymore. You’re a knight, man, there are only few things cooler than that. I’ll let you have this one,” he winked, “But don’t get too used to it.”

“Why you here?” asked Six. His words came out slow, something Tanuki thought to be weird when they first met, but since had come to view as nothing unusual.

Six’s eyes searched for Tanuki’s weapon, but he had none. Instead, a healing potion hung from his side.

Though he was not the smartest of his kind, he heard Woodrow’s conversations about their Liege before. There were two potions originally, but Tanuki used to summon a soulless husk, though he had yet to see it.

The last potion he kept not for himself but for any of his underlings, should they come close to death. At least that was what he said, but he heard Woodrow’s passing conversations before and the truth of it.

Tanuki kept it specifically for him.

Six wanted to find some respite in his worries. To think that there was something that could cure any mortal wound and that they would save one specifically for him should have put his mind at ease, yet somehow it left him feeling worse than before.

“Stupid Liege.”

He turned away in shame, but that could not show on his pale mask. Tanuki did not know of his underlying feeling of guilt, rather he took the warrior’s words as resignation.

“At least I look good,” he smiled and walked next to him.

Not all of Tanuki’s confidence was an act. He felt much better facing the wave with others than solo. He went through many kinds of hell before and the first of three waves dwarfed in comparison.

Still, there sat that little worm in his ear, whispering dark thoughts to his brain. For that reason, he kept more than one card up his sleeve. One of them was an apple in his pocket, which he grabbed and took a bite out of.

As the timer reached ten seconds, the ticking grew loud enough that it echoed throughout the island. The plantfolks looked up in terror, searching for the source of the noise in the sky. Their fears grew as the ticking stopped as it reached zero and the sound of bells grew around them.

It continued for a few seconds, then disappeared all at once. At the same time, a portal opened on the other end of the road.

A short green figure stepped out of it, boasting the proud headwear of a skinned blue minotaur. Warpaint of the same colour decorated her skin, which from afar they could not decide whether it bore clothes or only paint.

It was Soup, the Daughter of the Blue Minotaur.

A wide grin sat on her face. She smelled the air and exhaled with satisfaction.

“This land smells perfect for a raid,” Soup noted.

She looked behind, observing her men through the portal. They awaited Soup’s orders with excitement for blood. Two lines there were, one with two scouts and another with three regular goblins behind.

She took a second to observe Tanuki’s barricade but understood little of it, so she waved them away with a snicker. Sticks, she called them, snickering at her opponents’ futile desperate effort.

She saw Six next to the boy and immediately remembered him. She thought his long cape and crown of flowers was nice, and felt it was a shame she would need to ruin him. Well, his clothes, as she considered the plantfolks weakling and Six was not an exception. She thought about keeping some alive as livestock but ultimately gave up on the idea. After all, they were plants, and she only ever ate meat.

“Are you scared?” she called out to Tanuki, “Are you not afraid of dying? We live on meat, you know. My tribe is especially notorious for banishing plant eaters. Greenmouths, we call them. We do not take kindly to them, and you might say it’s a necessary evil not to leave any meat uneaten, but we take joy in slicing, hammering, and burning the meat while the attached is still alive. Our kind or not, we do not care. There is a certain taste to a good struggle. For this reason, I invite you to honour my tribe and put up a good fight till the very end. In return, I assure you, no part of your remains will be wasted.”

Her words were not just to satisfy her sadism. It was a tradition for tribe chiefs to give a good speech before a fight. Her ancestors used it to deliver something memorable, something that would ensure the survivors would think highly of them, and should they fall, the remaining warriors would pass on their legend to generations to come. In a sense, it would ensure they achieve immortality, if only a different kind.

Soup cared not for such tradition. She knew words hold power, and that power can be used to intimidate her foes, lowering their battle morale.

That was all that mattered to her. Not prestige. Not appearances. Not immortality. No tool was too sacred nor shunned to meet her use. If it meant disgracing her elders, so be it.

She was here to win.