He regarded the goblins calmly. "Alright, I'm about to leave, but I want to go through everything you need to do before I go." Before and after he softly spoke, he listened through the door for the sound of any orks passing by. During his earlier whispered conversation with the surviving goblins, they had so far avoided discovery. Staying sneaky was good.

"Please don't go, young master," said one of the goblins, a male.

A young female goblin, half of her face bruised and swollen, nodded in agreement. "What if they find us?"

"That's why you need to do what I say." Kevin closed his eyes for a second and took a calming breath. He knew that snap judgments were terrible and unfair in this situation, but the surviving goblins he'd rescued didn't seem very smart. He refused to believe that this was an aspect of the entire race since he shared it. They're just scared, he reminded himself. Terrified. Who knows what all they’ve seen or been put through?

"After I leave, one of you is going to very, very quietly whimper. Another of you is going to do the same thing, but less often. If it gets too quiet in here, the orks might know something happened. The smell and lights will stay the same, so that will help." The goblins' complexion seemed to get a bit greener when Kevin said that, and they very obviously avoided looking at the other side of the dungeon.

Kevin couldn't imagine what it had been like for all of them in this hell.

They’d told him that it was hard for them to tell the time outside, but based on their guesses about the ork work rotations and what the jailer had let slip, they'd been down here for about two weeks. The only thing any of them got to eat the entire time was old stale bread, the ends of carrots, and other pieces of refuse from whatever the orks cooked. The orks hadn't done a whole lot of cooking, though, apparently, since most of them had been ritualistically feasting on their captives and drinking their blood.

I freaking hate cultists, Kevin thought. He'd had his fill of religious fanatics in his past life when he'd been a knight.

"Can you do it?" he asked the terrified goblins. “Can you act so none of them know anything has changed in here?” They all nodded slowly, and then Kevin looked behind them at the two humans. "Just leave the humans alone," he instructed again. "And I know you're hungry, but don't eat anything, especially not any of the bodies, and double especially not the humans."

The goblins all frowned like they had the first time he said it, but this time the older goblin growled, "What do you take us for, young master? We may not be like you, whoever you are. We can't do what you do. And we're simple folk, but we aren't beasts. What do you think other goblin folk get up to around these parts?"

"Well, I don't exactly know," admitted Kevin. "And that's why I said it, just to make sure everyone understands each other, so I don't have to come back and start killing any of you."

The answer took the goblins aback, and they slowly nodded in understanding. They weren't happy with his matter-of-fact threat, but these were obviously hard people who appreciated a heads-up. In fact, now that Kevin thought about it, the sheer fact they were still alive after all this time proved how tough they really were. According to the goblins, there had originally been more humans than goblin prisoners. Now the humans were down to one that could die any minute, and another that might never wake up.

"You're going to keep the door closed. And if any of the orks try to open the door, all of you are going to make sure that it stays closed, right?"

"We understand, master," the goblins all nodded.

"Okay, now I'm going to go see what these orks are up to and hopefully start picking them off."

"Please don't die," said the old goblin. He dry-washed his hands. "Can't you just bring us out of here and help us escape to the surface? Why must you go deeper? Why must you fight?"

Kevin figured it was a pretty good question, and he answered honestly. "There are some things in this world that I just can't tolerate seeing. This is one of them. What is being done here is not a difference of opinion. This is not something people can talk out. No, this is evil. And what's worse, it's evil in the name of religion. These people are serving a god, or something that's pretending to be a god. What is being done here has to be destroyed, cut out like a cancer, otherwise it could spread."

Both from his past life and what he'd read in his parents' cave in this world, Kevin knew what he’d said to be an absolute certainty. On Earth, evil people just got a sick thrill out of whatever they got up to in the dark, or maybe gloried in the light, reveling in the harm they caused using law or civilization like weapons. But in worlds like this one, evil could manifest physically. Evil like what was happening here could be rewarded, making the ringleaders of a cult like this more powerful over time and attracting more to their cause.

Right now, this cult, whatever it was, seemed fairly small. That meant it was the opportune time to deal with it. In another decade, it might be an army of enemies versus a small group.

"This bullshit is entirely too close to my backyard, too. Or at least my parents'," Kevin said out loud.

"Your backyard?" asked one of the youngest goblins, a boy. The young goblin was painfully thin, and if his stinky, rag-like shirt were removed, Kevin was sure that all his ribs would be showing. If the goblins hadn't found a dripping water source on the wall, and a bit of lichen, more of them might already be dead by now.

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Kevin answered, "I've lived around this area, and my parents moved out here a long time ago. I know if they found out about this, they wouldn't be happy, so I'm doing them a favor." He hadn't actually lied, but it was a creative truth.

"Your parents live out here, and you have such fine weapons and fine clothing? You must be a noble, or at least an honored magister," said the old goblin. Then he quickly corrected himself. "Pardon, sir Druid."

Kevin grimaced. He’d thought fast before trying to find a plausible way to explain his shape-shifting powers. Calling himself a druid had been pretty much the only lie that he could get away with. Scuttle goblins, or common goblins like the prisoners, wouldn't know that turning into such a small creature like a chipmunk was not possible for any but the absolute strongest druids in history. Within the mechanics of any sort of shape change, adding mass was usually easier than reducing it, at least up to a point. Polymorphing was different, though. When other magic users changed shape, they would actually convert their body to ether and inhabit a construct they made out of an arcane substance like ectoplasm. The exceptions were people that naturally shape-shifted, like therianthropes, or racial shape-shifters.

The polymorph ability of the dragons was totally different, though. During the polymorph process, a dragon actually became an icon of whatever creature they were turning into. This was why deep understanding of the intended form was necessary. Of course, for Kevin, being able to change into the physical forms from his past lives had been fairly easy since he had a lifetime of experience already living in them. His other forms had been exponentially more challenging, in spite of the fact that he was supposedly extremely talented at it–at least his parents had said so.

"Don't worry about it," Kevin said abruptly. "Just wait here." The goblins nervously nodded. He could tell they wanted to say more, but they had to know he'd made up his mind. With one last listen at the door, Kevin made sure the door was shut, quickly polymorphed into a chipmunk, and scampered through the gap in the bottom while the goblins watched him go.

Now that he was back in the tunnel and had a bit more information, he could more clearly sense the evil that permeated the air. It had been over twenty years since he'd felt anything like this before, Bad memories of his life as a knight were rushing back.

Down the hallway a ways and to the left, he discovered another side room that turned out to be a kitchen. Luckily, he was spared any gruesomely horrific scenes like human bodies strung up ready to be consumed. According to the goblins, the orks were only eating the prisoners as some sort of worship, not for sustenance. So, no bodies in the kitchen.

In fact, other than the fact the kitchen was ancient and the rusty stove looked freshly cleaned after sitting around for several decades, the kitchen seemed fairly unremarkable for this world.

Two orks were inside, dressed differently than the miners that Kevin had seen before. These ones wore brown hooded cloaks and both had a large dagger in their boots. Kevin stealthily climbed to a better vantage point above one of the cabinets to survey the entire room. Now that he had a better view, he could see where the orks had stored their weapons. Dual short swords were among them—a nasty combination.

Kevin was tempted to attack the same way he had the jailer, go for a venomous bite and then finish them off with his sword, but this room was closer to the dig site that many of the mining orks must be at, and there were two enemies here, not one. Kevin was pretty sure that he could repeat his attack from before and easily kill one of them before that ork could scream or make too much noise, but the presence of the second ork made it risky..

In the end, unsure of what to do, he made his way down to the kitchen floor and sneaked over to the area where the orks’ weapons were leaned against the wall in the corner. The short swords were on the nearby counter. Both orks were still intent on their prep work in the kitchen. After watching them all the while, Kevin decided to polymorph into a human form behind them.

Kevin was going to polymorph into his knightly human form but then thought better of it. Although the kitchen was fairly average-sized, his blond form was pretty large, and his new plan revolved around speed and agility. Instead of transforming into his knightly form, he polymorphed into the body he’d had on Earth—a mixed-race man, average height, with lean muscle and great reflexes. In his goblin form, his reflexes were actually better. But his mixed-race human form still had a bit more reach and strength.

Kevin slowly and silently drew his longsword from the sheath on his back, now more like the size of a bastard sword to his human frame. He also carefully withdrew one of the short swords from its sheath on the counter. With two weapons in hand, he advanced quietly until he was right behind the orks. This would definitely not be the most heroic way to kill his enemies, but Kevin was far past caring about things like that anymore.

He silently cast [weapon sharpening]. He didn’t dare cast any other buffs. The more cleric spells he cast in succession, the higher chance it’d make a noise, or the supernatural “pressure,” could attract attention. Not only that, he was channeling divine power now, and in the middle of this miasma of evil, he wasn’t sure how more than a trickle would react to it.

With a heart cold as ice, he drew both blades back to strike and was actually somewhat surprised when neither ork sensed their impending doom. Instead, both remained oblivious as the two blades came flashing down at an angle on the exposed sides of their necks.

This was not Kevin's first rodeo, so the moment the blades bit deep and true, he also kicked the back of orks’ knees, one after the other, forcing them to fall backward. This prevented them from accidentally or intentionally knocking plates and pans all over the kitchen or otherwise cause a racket. There was only a dull thud as the two orks hit the ground, clutching their ruined throats, looking up in surprise, horror, and anger at Kevin as he reversed his grip on the two blades and brought them down into their chests. He figured even if the neck wounds weren't deep enoug to kill them quickly, now they were done. Either way, they wouldn’t be making any extra noise.

He was only half right–they didn’t make any more noise. But the two orks were still orks, after all—one of the hardiest races of sentient species on this planet. One of them actually began trying to get up. Kevin drew his sword back and chopped into the ork's head. Even though the other one hadn't moved further, to be thorough, he did the same to the one on the floor. After that, other than death throes, the orks were completely down for the count.

Grim. He spit.

Kevin briefly considered keeping the short sword since it was a bit handier in cramped quarters like this, but decided against it. He wouldn’t be able to polymorph it with the rest of his gear.

The way polymorphing worked, if he picked up or wore a new object, he needed to either think of it as truly his, or it needed to fit inside one of his pockets, or a container or clothing that he considered to belong to him—something he was completely familiar with. Kevin still didn't completely understand the magical science behind it, but there was also a tiered hierarchy of physical objects and how difficult they were to attune to one's soul for a polymorph. Of course, dragons almost never had this problem because they didn't really carry very much. And because of that, there was a marked lack of research on the subject in his parents' library. A lot of the things Kevin now knew about Polymorph, he'd learned himself.

One thing dragons could do that was really weird was put object in their mouths as a dragon, polymorph, and whatever they’d put away this way would disappear until they turned back into dragons. In the old days, this was one way dragons had managed to steal from each other.

The kitchen was eerily quiet now. Kevin had to think fast.

Staying in human form would be more dangerous than it was worth, so he regretfully fetched the other sword on the counter, put one of them in each of the fallen orks' hands, and then dragged them to opposite sides of the kitchen, hopefully making it look like they fought each other to the death. Then he polymorphed into a chipmunk again and left the kitchen behind.

He'd gotten lucky this time. No orks had gone past yet on patrols or work, but he figured it was only a matter of time before the bodies were discovered. He crept down the tunnels, keeping an eye out for little pockets and holes that he could hide in if any more orks approached. A few minutes later, a couple more orks with a cart actually began approaching from behind. Kevin hid and watched them go past, pleased that neither one of them had discovered the dead orks in the kitchen. But he'd be a fool to count on that happening again, just like he'd be a fool to try dealing with the remaining orks the same way as he’d done in the kitchen.

Dealing with the remaining orks was going to be tricky. Luckily, he had a new plan.