RUSTY

The gang watched in trepidation as the human heroes advanced. As the goblin tribe rushed into battle, they huddled together in their hiding place, hoping that fortune would favor them in the chaos that was about to unfold.

Tucked under the dilapidated wagon, Rusty and the gang lay captivated by the spectacle unfolding before them. From their perspective, the sun seemed to highlight the heroes as they entered the encampment, like stage lighting telling the audience who the main characters were.

They watched the [Monk] crunch through the first line of goblins as the [Ranger] and the [Wizard] began their deadly assault. While the [Ranger] seemed focused on keeping the [Skirmisher]s at bay, the spellcaster was targeting the tribe’s slingers; the women casting stones.

"They're monsters," Chul whispered, his voice trembling.

“[Identify],” Jiho muttered, and a small screen appeared beside his face. He dismissed it with thought, before summoning two more, his eyes flickering over the information they contained, before dismissing them just as quickly. “They aren’t that strong,” he said. “Around fifth level, nobody over ten.”

“I could take them,” Seok said, and Sooji slapped his arm.

“Don’t even try,” she hissed. “You’ll get yourself killed.”

The Great Goblin bellowed a rallying cry, and Chul whooped as he saw him enter the fray.

“They’re in for it now,” he grinned.

“No,” Jiho said flatly, “they’re not.”

"You dare to challenge the Midden tribe, human?" the Great Goblin growled, gripping his staff. “Is this your father’s head I carry? Do you come seeking revenge?”

“Nice dialogue,” Jiwoo admitted, “he’s really getting into it.”

"Keep your heads down," Sooji warned, gripping Seok’s arm tightly as he squirmed forward to get a better view.

They watched as the Great Goblin engaged the apparent leader of the hero party, bringing him down off his horse. They gasped as he dispatched the monk, displaying the kind of skill and power that they were extremely glad he hadn’t had a chance to unleash on Jiwoo. Rusty swiveled his head on his long neck, focused less on the dramatic duel between opposing leaders than on the massacre going on around them. The majority of the Midden Tribe was in full flight, and some of them, even women and children, were going down when arrows or sparks of purple magic struck them in the back.

This was the way of humans, he realized. Indiscriminate slaughter. Maybe if they had been higher level, the adventurers wouldn’t have bothered killing the women and children, but at this stage in their development, any target would do. He was afraid, but he was also angry. He understood why the gang was hiding. Survival was their first instinct, but something inside of him rebelled. It was wrong to hide when they could have helped. A dragon should not cower in the face of a threat, not even a hatchling. He had crawled forward unconsciously, nearly coming out from under the wagon, but Chul wrapped his arms around him, gripping him tightly to arrest his movement.

“Bad,” Chul whispered, “bad, bad bad. Don’t go. Stay safe with Chul.”

Rusty relented. As much as he wanted to help the goblin tribe, the people that were really important to him, his found family, were here. It was them he needed to protect. On the edge of his vision, he caught sight of another human, moving with startling quickness. This one was smaller than the others, his form concealed by black cloth, appearing and disappearing at will. The figure cut down a goblin warrior with casual ease before heading toward the Great Goblin’s tent, following the fleeing masses. He was out of his sight a moment later, hidden by the mounds. The fluid way he had moved, barely seeming to touch the ground as he advanced, terrified Rusty. Were these humans really considered low level? He hadn’t even seen that one enter the compound. They could be anywhere, everywhere. He was suddenly glad that Chul had stopped him from entering the fray.

The Great Goblin was winning. With the [Monk] down, he seemed more than a match for the [Paladin]. Even when his staff was broken, he fought on with increasing vigor, tireless and strong.

“Can they win?” Rusty asked, daring to hope.

“No,” Jiho answered him, “they can’t.”

Not long after, the Great Goblin rushed by them in a retreat of his own.

“We need to get out of here.” Jiho said. “Now.”

“Gettins good,” Jiwoo agreed, “let’s get gettin.”

The gang cautiously crept out from under the broken wagon, careful not to draw attention to themselves. Rusty glanced back to where the cloak Chul had made for him lay trampled and forgotten amid the now blood-soaked field. It pained him to leave it. He didn’t like the idea of losing anything he had been given, and he could feel the value the item would add to his hoard, but there was no going back.

The journey to their den was slow and silent. Jiho led the way, scanning the refuse ahead, while Seok kept up the rear, watching for anyone who might follow them. Jiwoo was lighter on his feet than Rusty had ever seen him, barely using his cane. The whole affair appeared to have energized him somehow, or at least made him angry enough to ignore the aches and pains of his old body.

The mood was tense, even as the cries of battle faded behind them. When they finally reached the den, nestled deep within the labyrinthine junkyard, they at last felt safe.

“What’s going to happen?” Chul asked as they filed into the den.

“Same thing that always happens,” Jiwoo grumbled, “goblins die, humans advance. More goblins grow up, get born, then they die too. Humans advance.”

“They never kill everyone,” Jiho said. “They have rules.”

“Rules?” Rusty raised his voice. “What do you mean, they have rules? They were killing women and children. They were killing everyone. How do goblins live like this?”

Jiho patted his head. “Like I said, they never kill everyone.”

“Hey,” Seok said, moving to shift the door in front of their den to block the entrance. “At least they didn’t notice us.”

A shadow fell over the entrance, and Seok yelped, hopping backward into the shelter.

The [Ranger] stood before them, his scimitar glinting in the afternoon light. His frame filled the opening, effectively trapping them inside. While his earth-toned leathers, splotched here and there with greens, may have allowed him to blend seamlessly into a different environment, they seemed out of place in the junkyard. Rusty’s gaze fell to the string hanging from his belt. Trophies, goblin ears, some of them wet. He had a rough, broad, bearded face, and his eyes held no sympathy.

"Tell me," the man asked calmly, "what kind of creature do you have with you? I thought it was a lindwurm, but those wings. It can’t be a lindwurm, can it?"

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

The gang froze like a family of cornered rabbits. Rusty's heart pounded in his chest. Fresh blood marked the edge of the [Ranger]’s scimitar, and there was nowhere to run.

"He’s a scaly dog," Chul blurted out, his voice cracking under the pressure of the [Ranger]'s unwavering gaze. He wrapped an arm protectively around Rusty, who had involuntarily taken a step back from the man.

"A dog? Even a goblin can’t possibly be that stupid," the ranger replied, his voice cold. "It looks like a little dragon. I never thought I’d find myself a suitable companion in a place like this, but I’ve been wrong before. Let me make you an offer, give him to me and I will spare your lives. I’ve already hit my quota for the day anyway.”

The gang exchanged uneasy glances, and Jiho ran a hand through his oily hair, wiping off a visible line of sweat from his brow. Chul’s breath came in quick gasps beside him, and Rusty honestly considered the offer. It would save his friend’s life, even if it meant being separated. He would never be this [Ranger]’s companion, but he could play along, if that is what it took to keep Chul from harm. His jaws opened, forming a reply, but before anyone could respond, Jiwoo stepped forward, his dark green skin shimmering with something other than sweat. His eyes were glowing.

"Human germ!" Jiwoo roared, charging towards the ranger with agility that belied his age. The ranger deftly sidestepped the charge, and Jiwoo ended up skidding to a halt outside of the den.

"Very well," the ranger said, his voice tinged with amusement. "You choose to die."

Jiwoo attacked again, and the [Ranger] forced him to stop short with an easy swing of his scimitar. Sooji loaded a rock into her sling and let it fly. It struck the ranger on the side of the head with a satisfying thunk, and he grimaced, grinding his teeth. Jiho waved his scissors in the air, backing further into the den rather than supporting his friends.

"Bookeybammon!" Seok bellowed a nonsense battle-cry. Though his arm still looked broken, he seemed to forget his injury, snatching a thick rod from his collection and swinging it in both hands. Looking annoyed, the [Ranger] parried the blow with his sword, biting a chunk out of the wood.

Chul, quick as a skittering rat, attempted to slip past the ranger's defenses with his sharpened spoon. But the ranger kept Chul at bay with a swift flick of his blade. He seemed to be toying with the goblins, testing their skills, confident in his ability to take them all on at once.

Seeing his companion in danger, Rusty lunged forward, sinking his teeth into the ranger's ankle. The ranger's face twisted in pain, but instead of jabbing down into Rusty’s exposed back and neck, he kicked him off. With gritted teeth, the ranger retreated a few steps into the open, giving himself space to maneuver.

Jiwoo was waiting for him. Despite his heavy belly and flabby arms, he moved like a warrior, specifically, he moved like the [Monk] they had seen fighting in the encampment not long before. His skin shimmered, and his eyes glowed, and he assaulted the [Ranger] with a flurry of blows that put the human man on the back foot.

Rusty couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The gang was fighting like a team of adventurers, playing off each other’s strengths. They surrounded their opponent, Jiwoo taking most of his attention while Chul darted in and out with his spoon, and Seok continued to strike with reckless abandon. Sooji loosed slingstone after slingstone, her face grim, forcing the [Ranger] to further divide his attention. Her tosses came at just the right moments, preventing the [Ranger] from taking advantage of Seok’s inexperience. His scimitar angled for the goblin’s throat when Seok overextended on a swing, pulling back at the last second to avoid being struck by a stone.

Their opponent slipped out from within the goblin triangle, waving his scimitar in a practiced defensive display. “What is this?” He demanded. “Who are you?”

Jiwoo paused, taking a deep breath, and the energy glimmering across his skin rippled like the water in a lake. “You came to the wrong hole, human. I am Jiwoo, [Manslayer], and we are the Gang of Fools.”

“You have titles?” The [Ranger] gaped. “But you’re a goblin. I left your chief behind me. How is this possible?”

“Long story,” Jiwoo said. “I’ll tell it to your corpse.”

He charged again, and this time, the [Ranger] chose not to dodge. Instead, he brought his scimitar down in an attack that would have sliced Jiwoo open from shoulder to hip. Rather than finishing the charge, Jiwoo slapped his palms on both sides of the blade, catching it in midair. They strained against each other, shock at the sheer unlikelihood of the maneuver coloring the human’s face. Seok was already moving around the man, and he slammed his club into his back. The blow shook him, but he remained standing, trying and failing to rip his blade out of Jiwoo’s grip.

Rusty scurried in low, sinking his fangs into the man’s unprotected crotch.

The [Ranger] screamed. As Seok pounded him again, he released his scimitar, and stumbled away with Rusty still hanging between his legs. He drew a knife from his hip and leaned his head aside to avoid another slingstone from Sooji. Chul clambered up the [Ranger]’s back like a furious green monkey, jabbing his spoon into the side of his neck. He leapt off before the man could cut him, leaving the spoon in place, blood welling from around the metal.

The [Ranger] poked Rusty’s jaws with the knife, forcing him to let go of his crotch. Thus occupied, he didn’t see Jiwoo flip the scimitar into his own hands. The elder goblin stepped forward, burying the blade in the human’s stomach, piercing leather and flesh alike. Seok clocked him in the temple with his club, and a moment later, the [Ranger] was down.

“Get him inside,” Jiwoo commanded, the light leaving his skin. He was suddenly unsteady on his feet, and he dropped onto his haunches in exhaustion. Sooji tried to help him back up, but he waved her off.

“I’m fine. Do what I say.”

"Ha! I knew we could do it," Jiho proclaimed, appearing beside them. "I must admit, you all did better than I thought you would.”

"Shut up, coward," Jiwoo snapped, his eyes dark once more, and murderous. He wavered in his crouch, coughed loudly, and slipped down onto the ground. “Get back inside. Get everyone inside.”

He could no longer resist being carried, so the others brought him along with the human’s body back into the den.

"Wubba lubba dub dub!" Chul cried out, dancing around the den and singing his triumph. His laughter echoed throughout the small space, but the others did not share in his exuberance. Seok was cradling his arm again, trying to hide the tears in his eyes. Jiwoo’s hands were bleeding freely, and Sooji was hurrying to bind them with the least filthy rags she could find.

"Is he going to be okay?" Rusty asked, his eyes on Jiwoo as Sooji wrapped the elder goblin's wounds.

"He'll be fine," Sooji reassured him. "He's just tuckered out from using his skills."

“How could he do all that?” Rusty asked. Jiwoo had become a completely different person during the fight. Now he was back to being a sickly elder, and Rusty had no idea which version was the real Jiwoo.

“It’s complicated,” Sooji said. “The important thing is that we survived.”

The gang settled down, though Jiho paced nervously in his corner of the den. Jiwoo lay on a makeshift bed of torn cloth and straw, smelling strongly of urine, his shallow breaths barely stirring the surrounding air. Sooji knelt by his side, her small hands gently wiping at the remaining blood. Rusty watched the scene with concern, unable to shake the image of Jiwoo's hidden strength.

"Jiwoo," Rusty hesitated, "how did you fight like that?"

Jiwoo managed a weak smile, his voice barely more than a whisper. "I told you already, Rusty. I was a leader once." He paused, gathering strength before continuing. "I used to be one of the most powerful goblins in Midden, but now that my tribe is down to the gang, I've lost almost everything of what I was."

"Rusty," Sooji interjected softly, sensing the young dragon’s confusion, "we all have classes and skills of our own. We're just not very high level."

“I know that," Rusty said, “but you’ve never talked about it with me.”

Sooji nodded. "Well, I suppose now’s the time. I'm a [Shaman], what humans would call a cleric. Jiho is a [Songstealer], Seok is a [Skirmisher], you saw him use a class skill in the fight. [Second Wind] lets him ignore injuries,” she glanced at her cousin, who was softly groaning in his bedding, “but it doesn’t really heal him.”

“I’m a [Marsh Warden],” Chul added helpfully, coming to sit beside Rusty. “It’s the best class there is, because it helps me make friends.”

“What’s Jiwoo?” Rusty asked, leaning into his companion.

“He’s a [Quickfoot],” Sooji said. “The humans call them monks.”

Rusty's mind raced with images of the gang fighting, Jiwoo's graceful movements, and Seok’s raw strength. When they’d hunted the dump beetle, they hadn’t acted like experienced adventurers, but he’d known they all had a past, and he supposed the threat the [Ranger] posed had brought it out of them.

"What's going to happen now?" He asked.

"Maybe nothing," Sooji said, her gaze focused on Jiwoo. "Heroes die in Midden sometimes. Humans don’t care about life or death; they just care about killing."

Kneeling beside the human’s body, Jiho had rifled through the Ranger’s belongings, his nimble fingers sorting the items into small piles. Rusty noted the array of weapons and equipment, the scimitar and skinning knife, both stained with the blood of goblins. The man had also brought a bow and a quiver of arrows fletched with black feathers, a money pouch bulging with coins, and an assortment of survival tools; flint and steel, a small whetstone, and a compact roll of rope.

Oddly, his material sense didn’t sense value in any of these things. He didn’t want them. He wanted nothing to do with this murderous human.

“This is a good haul,” Jiho said amiably. “What a day.”