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Trash Dragon
18: The Gang Chats the Night Away

18: The Gang Chats the Night Away

RUSTY

Rusty, not taking an active part in the conversation, was the first one to notice the change. The air seemed to thicken, and his skin prickled beneath his scales. It was a primordial feeling; the intuitive reaction of a prey animal observed by a predator as an imposing figure emerged out of the surrounding darkness. Grizzletooth was as big as a human, and his collection of scars suggested he did not make many friends. His ax was on his back, but Rusty had no doubt that it could be in his hands in a blink, whistling through the night air to take the head off the nearest member of the gang.

“Uh…” Rusty said, “guys?”

The gang fell silent, suddenly aware of the killer in their midst. He wasn’t threatening them, but his very presence was threatening. He exuded violence like a musk.

“Grizzle…” Chul said weakly, and Jiwoo jumped to his feet, his cane held in one hand like a monk’s staff.

Time seemed to slow, the gang holding its collective breath as Grizzletooth's focus narrowed and settled with an undeniable force upon Seok, who had frozen in the middle of a wild gesture. One arm was raised over his head, the other pointing at nothing.

Grizzletooth raised a hand, knotted and gnarled like the roots of an ancient tree, in a gesture of peace, still glaring at Seok. Seok slowly lowered his arms, trying to regain his composure under the scrutinizing stare.

“You kids are alright,” Grizzletooth said, his voice grating but not entirely without warmth. He nodded in the general direction of Rusty, Chul and Seok, and the trinkets woven into the braids on the side of his head clinked together.

Chul swallowed hard, his throat bobbing visibly. Whatever he had meant to say didn’t come out. Rusty, still on high alert, shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting between his friends and the looming figure before them.

Seok managed to break free from his paralysis, a shy smile lighting up his feature. His reaction eased the tension of the group. Though he had been shocked by the visitation, this was his hero in the flesh. “Thank you, uh sir?” Seok said, still uncertain.

“One day, we may fight together.” Grizzletooth said. “I would not mind.”

Seok rushed forward, forgetting his fear, as if he intended to wrap the old warrior in his arms. Grizzletooth, however, was in no mood for a hug. He held up a finger, and Seok stopped dead in his tracks, remembering who he was dealing with.

“Don't let your guard down, kid. You’ve got a long road ahead.” His gaze took in the entire gang. “And be careful of the company you keep. It could be better.”

He spat at Jiwoo’s feet, then paused for a moment, as if waiting for a response. Jiwoo growled, but remained where he was.

“Thought so,” Grizzletooth said, his voice as deep as if he had a cavern for a chest. With a final, lingering glance, Grizzletooth turned away, his formidable figure disappearing back into the shadows of the Creaking Forest, leaving silence behind.

Seok exhaled slowly.

“That was awesome,” he said.

“Gnarblesnark,” Jiwoo grumbled, dropping into a crouch, his face dark with anger. “Slug brained baboon.”

“He thinks we’re alright,” Seok repeated, ignoring Jiwoo’s mood.

"Seems like it," Jiho said, clapping Seok on the shoulder. "Now we've got one of the most famous goblins of Midden acknowledging us. Not a bad start at all."

"Speak for yourself," Seok replied. "I don’t think he was talking to you."

"He definitely was talking to me," Jiho said, touching up his hair. “Possibly exclusively to me. A discerning eye for talent, that one. He knows I’m level two now. It’s not much, considering what I once was, but it won’t be long before I’m back on top of the heap.”

Jiwoo glanced at his grandson at the announcement, his brows furrowing slightly and his lips pressing into a thing line, but said nothing.

"Really?" Sooji asked, her eyebrows raising in surprise. "That's impressive. I didn’t think you had that many pledges."

“I had enough,” Johi said defensively. “And I’ll have more than anybody after tomorrow.”

“Well, I’m level three,” Seok said, summoning his Status Screen. “So, eat it.”

Rusty raised his head to get a better look. He’d never read one of the goblin’s screens before. Though he could have asked Chul to show him his at any time, he’d felt like it would have been an invasion of privacy to do so. They’d all seen Rusty’s, of course, but that felt different somehow. He was the baby of the group, even though they could all act like children sometimes.

Seok’s screen did indeed mark him as a [Skirmisher], level three. Of greater interest to Rusty, beneath the attribute and skill sections, was a section titled, somewhat ridiculously, “Minion Pledge Registry.” Below that heading was a list of names, all the goblins that had supported Seok’s bid for leadership. There were thirteen of them.

"Thanks to the support of the goblins who have chosen us as leaders," Seok added, beaming at the thought of his newly gained fan club.

"Congratulations, both of you," Sooji said sincerely. "I’m getting jealous. Maybe I should have signed on to compete too."

“Like anyone would follow you,” Johi sneered.

“It won’t matter,” Jiwoo said bitterly. “They’ll leave you by the end. All those pledges will go to whoever becomes the Great Goblin.”

“Exactly,” Johi agreed. “Me.” He glanced at Chul. “What are you so happy about?”

Chul was grinning ear to ear, bouncing up on the balls of his feet.

“I’m level five,” he said.

"Really?" Sooji gasped, her eyes widening in amazement. "That's incredible, Chul! Have you chosen an advanced skill?"

"Nice!" Seok clapped Chul on the back, still glowing from the compliment from Grizzletooth.

"Thanks, guys," Chul said, his cheeks flushed. "I couldn't have done it without Rusty."

Rusty was delighted for his friend. He hadn’t added anything new to his hoard since they left the den, and the second round of gifts hadn’t been quite enough to get him to level three himself, but he knew it wouldn’t be long. He supposed he could have been collecting items from around the Creaking Forest while they were there, but he’d been wary of run-ins with the other goblins, and they’d been so busy with the competition that he’d been able to resist the urge to go nosing through the landscape for the treasures he knew were there.

“Your skills, Chul,” Johi insisted. “What are you going to choose?” He looked more annoyed than pleased to hear that his young cousin had advanced so far beyond him.

“Oh, right?” Chul called up his own screen. “I already added some more to [Nature’s Bond], and then [Terrain Mastery], after yesterday.”

Johi sighed. “You and Rusty are already close enough. You need something that will help us in the melee. Take [Marksmanship]. [Marsh Wardens] can be deadly if they specialize the right way.”

“You could use my bow,” Sooji offered. “At least for now.”

“Nah,” Chul said, “I’ve got a spoon.”

“Doesn’t matter what he picks,” Jiwoo said, staring into the fire. “He’s going to lose it all.”

“What about the attribute boost?” Sooji spoke over her grandfather, “that’s permanent. You haven’t picked that yet, have you, Chul?”

“Oh yeah,” Chul stared hard at his screen, humming unconsciously to himself. “There it is, got it?”

Sooji pressed closer. “What did you pick?”

“[Spirit],” Chul said, and Johi groaned.

“Idiot, you’re not a sorcerer, Chul. You need more [Agility], or [Might], or [Vigor], even [Wits]. Anything but [Spirit].”

“Nope,” Chul said, focusing on his screen again. “It’s for my advanced skill.”

“Don’t select it yet!” Johi screamed, leaping over the fire to tackle his young cousin. The two of them rolled on the ground, the screen moving with them, jerking around like an agitated phantom.

“Too late,” Chul giggled, ending his resistance. “I got [Spiritual Link].”

Johi rose over him, threw his arms up toward the sky, and screamed one word.

“Idiots!”

Sooji burst out laughing, and Seok looked confused. Rusty was distracted from the quarrel when the world seemed to fall out from under his feet. He felt like he was spinning, his mind caught like a tether ball that had just been punched around its pole. The disorientation lasted only a few moments, and when it was over, he felt like there was extra space in his brain, only that space wasn’t empty. There was a person there. It was Chul.

He could feel his friend’s happiness, his triumph, like they were his own emotions. Only they weren’t his own, and he hadn’t asked for them to be there. He liked his friend, maybe even loved him, but casually making a choice that would mess with someone else’s brain was a step too far. Jiho had said something about him and Chul being “already close enough,” when Chul said he put more points into [Nature’s Bond]. What had that meant? Was how Rusty felt about Chul, their bond, only the result of one of his class skills? Was there anything real between them at all?

“Chul,” Rusty said. “What did you just do?”

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Chul hopped to his feet, his arms raised in triumph. “I got [Spiritual Link]! It lets us feel each other’s feels, and always know where we are, and later, I can see through your eyes, and stuff.”

“See through my eyes?” Rusty blinked. “What if I don’t want you to see through my eyes? Did you use magic to make us friends? Is that what’s going on? When I first came out of my shell, I felt something. I felt like we were family ever since the beginning. Did you do something to make that happen? Like Froglick and his companion? His rat is just a rat, right? Did he tame that rat with a [Marsh Warden] skill? Did you use [Nature’s Bond] on me to make me be your friend?”

“Um,” Chul licked his lips and pulled his hat down tighter over his head. “Yes?”

The gang froze. He could see it on their faces. They couldn’t have been surprised; they were just afraid of the consequences of him finding out, and now they didn’t know what to say. He had asked for Jiho’s potions, but he had only trusted Jiho because of Chul, and he hadn’t asked for this. Jiho might have given him a drug, but it wasn’t like he could actively influence his mind with a skill.

Rusty ran. He didn’t know where he was going, only that it was away from the gang, away from Chul. He galloped through the Creaking Forest, disturbing other goblin groups, overturning a pot, and slipping on loose shells. The gang called out after him, and so did other goblins, but he ignored them, sprinting for all he was worth. He realized his feet were taking him back to the den. It was his lair now. The only home he knew.

He felt Chul’s distress in the back of his head, almost like his material sense. He had a fuzzy idea of where his companion was, the same way he felt the presence of nearby treasures in the heaps. Even if he ran out of Midden, all the way out, he wouldn’t be able to get away from Chul, because he was a part of him now. Chul had made himself a part of him, and he’d done it without asking.

The den was a long way away from the Creaking Forest, but he kept running until he got there, his D rank vigor making him tireless. If they were chasing him, there was no way they would be able to keep up, because even if they were faster, and he kept stumbling, he could keep going long after they collapsed from exhaustion.

Before he knew it, he was in the den, staring at his hoard, the gifts from his goblin family. He was angry at them, furious, but he still wanted all this stuff. Chuffing and hissing, he started shifting all the knickknacks and trinkets out of the gang’s respective corners and kicking them into his or carrying them with his mouth. Seok’s toys, Sooji’s pretties, and Jiwoo’s collection of animal bones. Wasn’t this his lair? Shouldn’t he have already gotten experience for everything inside of it? They had to give it to him first, but they wouldn’t because they were greedy. Greedy goblins. They didn’t care about him, they just cared about using him to make themselves more popular. But he could take what hadn’t been given.

This was all his stuff now, the den and everything inside of it. It wasn’t the gang’s anymore; it was just his, and if they tried to take it back, he would hurt them. They could make a new home for themselves with the Midden Tribe, but he didn’t need a gang or a tribe. He just needed his stuff. His stuff made him feel safe and warm and comfortable, and it never lied to him or asked him to do things he didn’t want to.

He piled and pushed everything they had into a mound within the den before curling up on top of it, his eyes on the entryway. In twenty-five hours or fewer, all this precious garbage would be a part of his hoard, and he would be higher level and any of them.

He sat there for an hour, brooding over his anger, stoking it like fire, all the while feeling Chul’s distress in the back of his mind. It was good that he was upset. He deserved to be, because of what he had done. As angry as Rusty was, he was more sad than angry. There was an emptiness in his belly that threatened to swallow him whole, the same kind of feeling he got from his dreams. He expected Chul to come running into the den at any moment, apologizing, or pretending he didn’t know why what he had done was wrong. Maybe he really didn’t understand. Chul wasn’t the sharpest shell in the heap. Rusty tried to think of what to say to him, other than to tell him to go away and never come back. But when a goblin appeared in the entryway, it wasn’t Chul, it was Jiho.

“We need to talk,” he said.

Rusty hissed at him, and Jiho stayed where he was. Instead of stepping into the den, he sat down at the entrance and began humming to himself. It sounded like a lullaby, and Rusty found himself relaxing.

“How did you know I would be here?” Rusty asked.

“Where else would you be?” Johi shrugged. “Plus, as I’m sure you're aware, Chul can feel where you are, at least the general direction.”

Rusty focused on the feeling of the other person inside his head, and it told him that Chul was still a good distance away, though closer than he had been before, still toward the Creaking Forest.

“Where is he, then?” Rusty asked. “Why isn’t he with you?”

“I told him to stay back.” Jiho ran a hand through his greased black hair, slicking it against his skull. “Because we need to talk.”

“About what?” Rusty hissed again. “What could you possibly have to say? You knew what he was doing with me, you had to know. You’re too smart not to.”

“Yeah,” Jiho said, “I knew what he was doing, probably better than he knew it. Chul doesn’t understand his skills all that well, and you don’t either. You’re thinking he tamed you like a rat, and he thinks that too, but [Nature’s Bond] doesn’t work that way. Chul’s not like me and Jiwoo. He’s never been higher level, and he doesn’t ask the [System] lots of questions or think about it much.”

Rusty raised his head on his long neck, looking down at Jiho from atop his hoard. “What do you mean? It doesn’t work that way?”

Jiho waved his hands. “[Nature’s Bond] doesn’t work on intelligent creatures. It allows a [Marsh Warden] to summon a companion appropriate to his terrain, or tame one that he finds. But Chul didn’t summon you, and he didn’t tame you either. There’s a process involved with that, and it takes time. Chul is a sap, always been a sap, always will be a sap. He saw you hatch, and he fell in love with you. Like a puppy. And then you imprinted on him. It wasn’t magic, or a class skill, just nature at work, yours and his.”

“Imprinted?” Rusty said caustically, “am I supposed to be a duckling now?”

“No,” Jiho sighed, “you’re not a duckling, you’re a dragon. But the principle is the same.”

“No, it’s not,” Rusty snapped. “Dragons aren’t raised by their mothers. They get left alone, or with other hatchlings, and then they fight for fresh territory or get pushed out. There’s no reason for them to bond with a parent like that.”

Jiho gave him an appraising look. “Did Chat tell you that?”

The elf girl had told him, or at least made him suspect, and then he had confirmed as much with the System’s Chat function. But Rusty wasn’t going to explain that to Jiho, so he remained silent.

“Dragons do leave eggs in territories that aren’t claimed by other dragons,” Jiho said. “But they still have an instinct to imprint on their mothers. That way, if they decide to keep them in the nest, their young are less likely to attack their mother when they get big enough to want her hoard for themselves. As for the ones that get abandoned, like you, they imprint on whoever or whatever finds them to take care of them. There are stories about dragon eggs getting left with less intelligent monsters, like lindwurms. For whatever reason, the lindwurm will accept the hatchling as one of their own, and then the hatchling will end up adopting the lindwurm and its offspring when it gets bigger. It’s a win for both, because lindwurm are similar to dragons, but they don’t care about hoards. So, the hatchling gets a big lizard to look after it when it’s young, and the big lizard gets a protector when that hatchling grows up. Other races can bond with dragon young too, but dragons don’t die of old age, so they usually end up outliving their companions. Chul didn’t tame you into being his companion. It was the other way around.”

Rusty narrowed his eyes. “You said you didn’t know much about dragons.”

Jiho looked away, out into the night. “I say a lot of things.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“Ask Chat about it. This is basic dragon lore, and technically pertains to your class, so the information shouldn’t be locked.”

Rusty did as he suggested, summoning his status screen, and telling it he had a question. CWChat pulled up, and he had a brief conversation to confirm what Johi had told him. The System still insisted that [Trash Dragon] was not a valid class, though it seemed less sure about it now than the last time he had asked. When he got around to asking it a broader question, it readily responded.

Yes, dragon hatchlings have a tendency to imprint on their mothers, or the first being they see upon hatching, forming a deep bond. A remarkable deviation from this norm occurred in the tale of Skyrion, the legendary [Shadow Dragon], who imprinted on the human leader, Wulfric [Denier], instead of its dragon parent. Skyrion and Wulfric fought together, leading an epoch-defining invasion of Baetlroc, and ultimately resulting in the founding of the human enclave there, where Skyrion remained until she was slain by Guildmaster Thorne Blackhand.

“Let’s say I believe you,” Rusty allowed, dismissing the screen. “What about the [Spiritual Link]? Chul is in my head now. He put himself there.”

Jiho smirked. “And did that make you like him more?”

“It made me like him less.”

“There you have it. Chul is not influencing your opinion of him using class skills. There is now a literal, [System] based bond between you, but your feelings are your own.”

Rusty grudgingly accepted the point, but it didn’t make him feel any better. “Why did the link work on me, if I’m not his [Nature’s Bond] animal?”

Jiho waved his hand again, as if the question didn’t matter. “Can’t say. Maybe because he didn’t have another companion, maybe because you were already bonded by the imprint mechanic. I think it was a terrible choice on his part. There are more useful skills, but he’s obsessed with you, and here we are. The point is, he’s not charming you into being his friend. Not magically, anyway.”

“Can I ask you about something else?”

“You might as well.”

“Souls that come from other worlds. I’m one of them, right?”

Jiho’s smirk fell away. “You remember that, do you?”

Rusty dropped his head into his claws. “I try not to think about it, and most of the time, I can push it out of my mind. My body feels like my body now. This world feels like my world, whatever that means. The potions you were giving me helped, but when I stopped taking them, the dreams came back. It’s confusing, and whenever I have them, I feel terrible. Hurt. There’s this void there, and I don’t know whether I want to crawl into it or run away from it. I don’t know who I was, who Russel Garfield was, but I know he was somebody else from who I am now, and I don’t think he was very happy.”

Jiho rapped his knuckles against a piece of wood on the side of the entrance. “May I come in?”

Rusty flicked his tail, disturbing some of the glass baubles piled up beneath him.

“Fine.”

Jiho stepped into the den and climbed up to sit beside Rusty on his hoard.

“Jiwoo and I used to steal things from Harborfell. He would mostly take food and valuables, or just break things. He enjoyed killing humans, and we did some of that too. But what I was interested in were the books. Goblins don’t write a lot down, but humans do. There’s knowledge in their cities, more than Chat will ever tell us, if it even knows. The books are all gone now. I lost them when we lost everything else, but I learned a lot of interesting things. You used the word isekai before. That’s a word that someone like you brought with them. It just means ‘other world.’”

“I know what it means,” Rusty said.

“I suppose you do,” Jiho said, growing quiet. “So, what do you want to know?”

“How did this happen? Why did it happen?” Rusty searched through the emptiness inside of him and recoiled from what he found. “Who was I?”

“Don’t know,” Jiho said. “My understanding is that there are gods out there, bigger than the Great Mother, who work in mysterious ways. Sometimes, when people die, their souls get picked up and shuffled into other worlds. There’s a theory that all souls are immortal and get reincarnated over and over forever, not remembering who they were, and that the ones like you, for whatever reason, don’t transition as smoothly, so parts of the last life remain in the new one.”

“Do you believe that?”

“I don’t. If all souls get used repeatedly, what’s the point of dropping them into other worlds? It would be simpler to keep them in the same world where they died, and less problematic for the ones that could remember past lives. From what I read; the accounts of other transmigrators aren’t pretty. Some of them are crazy, or they kill themselves to try to go back wherever they came from. Some of them say they talked to gods and were given special missions. They think they’re supposed to save the All from some apocalypse; the islands falling into the Barathrum, or the sun blowing up, or whatever. It never happens. All is forever. The islands are forever. We don’t need transmigrators to save us.”

“What if they did stop the sun from blowing up?”

“Pfft,” Jiho pursed his lips. “I doubt it. Did you talk to any gods?”

“I don’t think so.”

“There you have it.” Jiho patted Rusty awkwardly on the back. “No worries. Best not to think about it.”

Rusty wasn’t so sure. “Why did you want me to forget?”

“Makes things easier,” Jiho shrugged. “Keeps it simpler, for all of us.”

Simpler to control, Rusty thought. Jiho was acting nice now, but that was because he’d decided acting nice was the best way to get Rusty back on the team, not because he actually was nice.

“Do you still think I shouldn’t talk about this to the others?”

“There’s no point,” Jiho said. “They know less than I do, and it would just confuse them.”

It still seemed like Jiho was just trying to manage the situation rather than genuinely help Rusty, but that was his nature. It didn’t mean he was hiding anything else from him. Rusty wanted to live in this world, to have a family here, and forget about his old one. Whoever Russel Garfield had been, there was only pain there now.

“We can go back,” he said finally. “I’m ready.”

“Good,” Jiho patted him again. “It’s a big day tomorrow, and I need my beauty sleep.”