"——Huh?"
Those are the words that leave my mouth as the sun above shines brightly on my form. I don't even wince from the shock of what just happened.
The sounds of birds fill my ears, a peaceful symphony of sounds from all over.
I was in the dark. There was pain—burning, searing pain all over. Then…
"What the hell are you staring at? Hurry up!"
My head slowly trails towards the sound. The carriage stands against the blue sky, framing it. The three girls sit in the front, looking at me with a curious expression, save for Navi, who is glaring at me.
With no choice, I stagger into the carriage, almost falling over.
Did… Did I see the future? Was that some kind of bad future? A bad end?
The carriage rumbles, shaking me back into the moment. I grab the nearest seat and collapse into it, my face locked in shock.
Sweat runs down my face, trailing down the contours.
I feel sick I feel sick
"You seem unwell. Are you alright, Kaito?"
Kors's voice is gentle, but I can't even lift my head at first. My smile is plastered on, but my hands are trembling. Even now, I can feel the phantom weight of the cave pressing in on me. The torchlight dying. The screams. The stench of rot.
I feel sick I feel sick
"Mr. Kaito?"
I run my hand down my back. I can still feel it—the ghost of hot metal skewering me, like burning rods plunged into my ribs.
I never want to experience that again.
I feel sick I feel sick
Still… if that was the future, maybe that means I have an ability. The ability to see ahead.
I look up at Kors, grinning through the shaking. "Ah, sorry, I'm fine. If anything, I'm feeling great!"
I feel sick I feel sick
I stand, wobbling a little. "My dear friend Kors, I think I've awakened my ability!"
"An ability? Please tell."
I dramatically fold my arms and cross my leg. "Yes, a powerful ability unmatched by any other. Dare I say, a godly ability!"
Kors leans forward, skeletal hands twitching in anticipation.
"Yes. You see, Kors, I have the ability… to see the future!"
Silence. Only the creaking of the carriage.
Then a snicker. It's from the front, presumably belonging to none other than Arivia. Look, I get it's hard to believe, but I'm in the same boat as you.
"Oi, Kaito, if you can tell the future," Navi begins.
"Mm?"
"Dodge this."
I blink. A splash of water hits me before I can react. I'm soaked, dripping onto the carriage floor with an equally soaked expression.
"What a convenient joke!! And how'd she get a water bucket?!"
The snickering turns into roaring laughter.
'He looks like a wet kitten!"
Sick
Twisting the water from my sleeve, I sigh.
"I apologize on their behalf," Kors says. "They sometimes let jokes get too far."
"It's fine. You can't tell a cat to bark, can you?" I mutter.
Of course they don't believe me. Not even in a world where people cast fire from their palms and fight giant skeleton lizards. It's only natural, after all.
Look at me, talking about 'natural' in a fantasy world.
If I want to get them to believe me about my precognition powers, I need something that I can tell.
Oh right.
"Fine then!" I shout, ready to prove them wrong. "In Varos, there's a goblin cave, where…"
Suddenly, I stop. My breath catches.
I freeze.
For a second, I'm not in the carriage.
I'm back there—choking on darkness.
I smell that rot again. The floor cold beneath me. I can feel hands brushing against me from a wall of bodies.
My mouth opens. Nothing comes out.
"Goblin cave?" Arivia calls out.
I can't speak. My throat is locked. A spiky, invisible lump jams itself in.
If I say it aloud, it becomes real again.
"If what he says is true, we have another issue," Asakawa says flatly.
"Well, that's double the money then!" Arivia bounces in her seat.
"Hm. While a mass of monsters might be troubling, surely one of us can handle it. They aare just goblins," Asakawa adds.
"Do you guys really believe him?" Navi interrupts. Her tone is laced with annoyance. "He's just trying to garner a reaction out of you."
I shoot her a glare, placing my hands on the small front window.
You bitch! There's really something dangerous in that cave!
"The area around Varos is regulated. Gorthro wouldn't let his cash cows get culled by monsters."
"Hah?! No, I'm telling the truth! Trust me!"
Navi turns back, eyes laced with exhaustion.
"Really! What do I gain from lying to you? Nothing, that's what!"
She closes the window.
Right on my fingers.
...Seriously? What's with the reaction? Why's she so adamant on proving me wrong? Or is she just sick of my antics and really doesn't want to deal with it.
Still, this is bad. Really bad. Boy who cried wolf aside, those kids are in danger.
"Kors, you believe me, right?"
He nods.
Kors is the best, man.
"However… forgive me, Mr. Kaito, but while I do believe in you… Is there any way to…"
"Prove it?" I finish for him.
"I apologize."
"Nope, nope, it's fine. Completely understandable." I place my hand on my chin, thinking. "Okay, when we get there, it'll be sunset, and we'll park in the middle of the town square."
Kors nods. "Very well. I wholeheartedly believe that it will happen."
"Yeah, I can tell. But wait, does such an ability exist?"
"Hm, not that I can think of. However, there do exist Severants which possess the ability to allow the wielder to gaze into the future when the blade is looked at."
How did he say 'hm' with no lips?!
I blink. Once. Twice.
Wait, I've got no clue what he just said.
"Severants?"
"—? Are you not familiar with Severants?"
I scratch my chin.
"No, not particularly."
No, 'particularly' couldn't even be used in this situation, given that I was totally in the dark about this terminology.
"Interesting. Well, the best way to explain is that Severants are specialized weapons that allow the user to 'sever' the thread of life. Each one possesses a latent ability. The amount of power that is released is limited to a numerical 'release'."
"That just sounds like a bankai."
"?"
"Nothing, go on."
Ah, now I feel bad for interrupting him; the excitement in his voice was quite palpable.
"Yes, as I was saying. There are up to 3 releases latent in every Severant, but particularly powerful ones sometimes are limited to only two, or, in the case of mythical weapons of absolute power, one."
"Hm, specialized weapons. Is there any kind of requirement for getting one, or can anyone go along and get—"
"Oi, quit the yapping, we're here!"
"HUH?!"
I'm now standing in a stable.
Not the town square.
The sun is gone. The sky is dark. The world is wrong.
How…? I saw the future. I saw it.
It should be daytime!
But here I am. Night sky. Flickering tavern lights. A couple drunkards on the street. The sounds of nightlife reverberating across the street, laughter accompanying it.
The future can't change. Can it?
I turn. Navi is already standing over Kalcifer, arms crossed. That smug, unbearable grin is back.
"Guess you can't tell the future," she hums, walking past and flicking her hand in mock encouragement. "It's okay to be normal. You don't need a special ability."
Did.. Did she purposely take a different path to Varos to prove a point that I was delusional?
"Hk—!"
"Don't worry, Mr. Slave! I'm sure you've got an ability coming!" Arivia chirps, punching the air.
I groan, not even bothering to make eye contact with her form. If I do, I'm sure I'll end up screaming in absolute anguish.
"Just… just go,"
They walk off, entering the tavern one by one.
Asakawa says nothing.
"It is fine," Kors says. "I am sure you still can tell the future."
Your face is screaming, 'Like hell I believe you, but I still pity you.'
You don't even have a face, too!!
I sigh, turning toward the tavern. Navi's still there, standing right outside. I can't tell the expression on her face due to the darkness, but I'm sure it's the type that would make anyone angry.
"Ah, Mr. Fortune Teller," she says. "We're heading inside for information."
"On Gorthro?"
"How'd you know?"
"Meh. Who doesn't?"
She blinks in surprise. Ah, now you look all shocked. Normally, I'd be the one to rub it in her face, but I'm so sick of being made a laughing stock, I dont even pay it any attention.
"W-well, don't try to head anywhere." She says, flustered.
"I know, I know. Because Kal is trained to eat me. Blah blah." I wave her off.
She hesitates, then walks inside.
Now it's just me, the stone floor, the sounds of weird horse-like animals, and Kalcifer, letting out quiet rumbling noises as I run my hand down his spine. I carefully make sure not to hit any spiky parts. If I'm being honest, is he the only one feeling any kind of pleasure? Because to me, it feels like I'm touching rocks.
"Well, whatever," I mutter, running my hand down the cement. There are small traces of dust left on the floor.
The stable stretches across what I assume to be twelve square feet. Well, to call it a stable would be quite generous. In reality, it's more or less like a station for F1 cars. Lined up in each row, there's space for one to 'park' their mounts and tie them up. In the center, there's a lone station, presumably for the caretaker.
I'm sitting on a small stone floor that's only slightly elevated, and Kalcifer's body is facing my general direction.
The sounds of the night echo faintly, and the black moon shines in the sky.
There are what I assume to be stars, decorating the sky with their entropy.
I must have some kind of ability, right? Or was that some kind of hallucination from the heat? It had to be one or the other.
Wait…
My mind travels to that skull emblem on the log I touched.
When I touched that, did my mind gaze into the future?
I look at my palm.
There's no point in heading back, but was that just a one-time thing? Or do I possess this ability naturally—cursed to gaze into the future every time I touch an object?
No, wait, that's too confusing to even think about.
"Dammit, so many questions!" I groan.
I lean back onto the stone ground, lying on my crossed arms. There's nothing to do, and besides, I don't have a piece of meat to bribe this creature with, so heading away is out of the question.
Wait.
I need to do something about that goblin cave! How could I forget!?
"—Kh, shit!"
Quickly getting up, I'm met with the sounds of someone running toward me.
The form of the same girl from the vision shows up in front of me, her long brown hair trailing down to her shoulders.
"Excuse me, Mr—!"
I stand up straight, my eyes focused on her form, not letting up for a single second.
"How long have your friends been in that cave for?!"
A shocked expression crosses her face—surprised that the strange man laying next to a Kobold knew exactly what kind of predicament she was in. The shock smoothly transitions into confusion, mixed with a teaspoon of relief.
"Eh? For ten minutes…"
Thank god. I thought maybe, given the time we arrived, they would've suffered a worse fate from waiting longer, but it seems time moved forward a bit.
What is going on? Nothing is transpiring as I saw it previously. Do I really have the ability to tell the future, or was that just a one-off thing?
I glance at the forest line in the distance.
I clench my fist.
I can't head in there alone—not if I want a repeat of the earlier events. I need help. No, I'm not going through that ever again. Maybe things will play out differently this time, but that doesn't excuse the absence of someone powerful next to me. I'm not taking any chances.
I grab the girl's hand.
"Follow me."
Breaking into a sprint—but careful enough to allow the girl to keep her footing—I rush into the tavern. The door swings open with a loud creak, revealing the warm, amber-lit interior of the building. The air smells of ale, smoked meats, and faint incense.
There's an upper area led up to by sturdy wooden stairs, partially veiled in shadows. The roof is quite tall, held aloft by heavy beams, accentuating the vertical space and making the room feel grander than it should. To my right is what I assume to be the bartender, a grizzled man polishing a glass with a cloth that might've been white once.
The rest of the room is filled with round tables, most occupied, laughter and clinking mugs echoing between them.
It's loud and pleasant, with people of all shapes and sizes inside.
I see some with horns, long ears, and—
No! I need to focus. Bolting my way around the crowd, I catch sight of a white-haired girl standing next to a large man, a beer mug in her hand. She's laughing like a whale, her eyes closed.
"Navi!" I yell. The tavern's noise almost drowns me out. Still, I can feel the gaze of people on my back, presumably because I brought a kid inside a place meant for drinking, but I don't care.
Navi's head swivels toward me.
"What the hell are you doing bringing a kid inside a tavern?! Are you—"
We're currently standing outside the tavern, in the back. There's an occasional drunkard dancing and singing to himself. Navi leans against the wall, her left hand bracing her weight. The girl, presumably scared of such a scary-looking woman, stands behind me.
"There's no time! I told you about the cave! Her friends got abducted!" I yell, swinging my hand to accentuate my point.
The confusion and surprise on Navi's face harden into something serious. I can feel the change in her demeanor as if it were a physical shift—a switch being flipped.
"Where?" she asks.
Is she not going to apologize for doubting me?
No, no, Kaito, that isn't appropriate right now!
The girl points toward a nearby tree line. The trees, veiled by darkness, feel more intimidating than ever. I gulp. It's as if they grow taller and taller the longer I stare.
My hands are shaking.
I glance at Navi, her expression focused and unreadable.
As much as I'd hate to admit it, seeing her face calms me down. With her by my side, I'm sure we can overcome a few measly goblins. After all, from what I've seen, Navi is strong.
"Well, what are we waiting for? Lead the way."
The darkness of the forest is palpable, so much so that even the girl—despite clearly knowing the area well—has had moments where she lost her bearings, only to miraculously find her way again. The only source of light emits from Navi's hand. Some spell. I'm calling it spell, because that's the only way I can understand what the hell she's doing.
Branches and what feel like bugs smack into my face, but I push through, doing my best to keep up with the other two and not get lost. Our footsteps pound against the forest floor, urgency buzzing in my chest. I can barely move my arms thanks to all the damn foliage, but I manage.
"We need to think of a plan. We can't just.. Rush in there." I see through huffs.
"There's probably around a good amount of goblins, so we can't be separated no matter-"
"There's no time for a plan!" Navi replies.
"-Tch."
Finally, after a few minutes of running, we finally reach a clearing. A feeling of fear creeps down my spine, grabbing me by the throat. Sweat trails down my face and back, coating me in the foul substance. The smell of salt enters my tongue's taste buds.
My stomach feels like a pit.
I'm scared.
No, that was just a vision. It wasn't real.
I didn't really die.
I clench my fist.
"There." The girl says, pointing at the terrible cave entrance. It's like a dreadful maw, it's jaws gaping open for any unfortunate souls to enter, an entrance to death itself.
"Stay outside and head back as fast as you can. Tell any other adults if you can." Navi says.
She walks over to a nearby tree branch and lights it, handing it to the girl.
"Mm! I'm a fast runner!" The girl nods.
With that, she turns and heads down the path we came from. She seems quite confident. Why wasn't she that confident when I told her the same? Is it because I'm the scary-looking guy?
Me and Navi face the cave. The air between us is tense, like we're both holding our breath.
"Wait, what about the others?"
"Pyraethon-12: Bekon."
She quickly bites into her hand, igniting it and sending what seems to be a flare into the sky. It explodes in a brilliant flash of light, illuminating the dark canopy above like a sudden burst of lightning.
"This'll let them know about our whereabouts."
"Well, let's head in." I mutter, stepping inside.
Normally, I'm sure she'd object, but because of the urgency of the situation, she has no other choice but to bring me along. That fact's clear to me simply because she presses into the cave.
"Fine." She says, her finger still glowing with flames.
"Pyraethon- 2: Expand." She utters, the flames growing stronger.
Compared to the flimsy torch I had, this is like a beacon. It lights up the entire portion of the cave we're in. Now that I get a better look however…
This entryway is incredibly tight — so tight I can hardly believe I managed to squeeze through. Even a small child would struggle to make their way in here.
It reminds me a lot of what cave divers go through, though not on the same level. Honestly, the people I both respect the most—and think are the dumbest—have to be cave divers. The caves can barely fit a skull, yet cave divers just rub their hands together and dive right in.
I can't imagine dying in such a tight place…
Well, I guess I can. Although it wasn't really death.
Crouching down, I let Navi take the lead since she's got the light, and also because she's a bit shorter than me. It's such a tight squeeze that I have to crouch even lower just to fit.
Trying to steady myself, I reach out to brace against the wall but end up catching my hand on something I'd rather not mention.
"T-the hell are you doing?!"
"I-It's not my fault! It's tight here!"
"Yeah, yeah, just watch where you put those grimy hands. I want to stay pure."
I snicker.
"Since when are dogs-"
"Guhah—?!"
A kick to the shoulder. That was the response I received.
After several minutes of squeezing through the narrow passage, the ceiling finally widens enough for me to stand upright. It's been about ten minutes since we entered the cave—and so far, nothing has happened.
Navi stands about five meters ahead, her eyes locked onto something unseen. Her expression is sharp, focused, as if she's spotted something important.
"What is it?" I ask, straightening my back from the immense crouching from earlier.
The general area around us is pretty vast, with nothing but our voices echoing and water dripping somewhere in the dark. Sometimes a faint gust of wind brushes through, but other than that, it's dead silent. It's surprisingly cold here, honestly.
I can't see the cave roof at all, so I'm guessing it must be really high up. Tall stalagmites jut from the floor like sharp teeth, and thick, pillar-like formations rise around us, almost like some strange organic architecture holding the whole cave together.
"Over there." She whispers.
I follow her gaze to the spot she's pointing at.
A small creature, no bigger than a child.
It's a goblin, and it looks like it's eating something. Well, that would explain the strange chomping sounds, wouldn't it?
Navi holds up her hand to stop me from rushing in and slowly moves closer to the goblin.
As we near it, the chomping starts to shift... is that sobbing?
It sounds like the creature is crying.
Then, with a swift motion, Navi unsheathes her black sabre and raises it above the goblin's head, her yellow eyes glowing with a malicious gleam.
"P-Please.. End my life."
"—?!"
"—?!"
The goblin…
It's talking.
Navi, obviously due to shock, lowers her weapon, surprised that such a creature possessed the ability to communicate with us. Both of us stare at it in shock for a minute or so, dumbfounded.
"Y-You can talk?!" I sputter.
The goblin, looking utterly dejected, nods, almost dragging its head up and down like some kind of ragdoll on a string. Now that I get a better look, his appearance is almost cleaner than the other goblins I observed earlier. He still has no eyes, but doesn't look as monstrous as the other monsters, if that makes any sense.
"Yes, but it does not matter. Please end my life."
"Woah, woah, slow it down. Why can you talk?" Navi asks, still holding her weapon, unsure whether this depressed monster would lunge at her or not.
"I have possessed this gift since I was born. Although it is more of a curse than a gift."
It looks at its hands.
"I can speak, yet I cannot communicate."
Yeesh, that's deep.
Sensing the opportunity to ask a question regarding the missing children, I propel the goblin. If he can speak, he can most definitely relay critical information.
"Where are the people you kidnapped?" I grill.
The goblin dejectedly responds, "They are located on the eighth layer, held captive by the dreadful Orc."
When the Goblin utters the word 'orc', I can truly feel malice in his tone, a faint hiss, like some kind of serpent. Also, EIGHTH LAYER?!
"Eighth layer?" Navi asks.
"Yes, this cave is located above a large Umbral Valley."
"Umbral valley?" I ask, leaning in.
Navi explains, "It's like its own ecosystem. Huge holes in the ground—sometimes endless abysses—with layers and biomes all their own."
"Haah…" I scratch the back of my neck. "This is a bit grander than I expected."
Navi turns to the goblin. "Why aren't you with the rest of your friends?"
The goblin drops to the ground, looking even more defeated than before. How he manages to look sadder after all that is beyond me. The bone he was chewing is back in his mouth, moving slowly with his heavy, depressed chewing.
Stop it, I'm starting to feel sad now.
"I didn't agree with their methods, so they exiled me from my layer."
Wow, guess goblins aren't totally mindless. They clearly have the capacity to think for themselves. Well, I guess that's already to be expected, given that there's a talking goblin right now.
"It was all because of that orc," the goblin says, clenching his fist. "He ruined everything and stole our way of life."
"Thenn!"
The goblin suddenly sits up, making Navi and me tense.
"Those fools chose to follow him! They didn't resist! Their minds must be under his control!"
"You keep talking about some orc — what's the deal with that?" Navi asks.
The goblin stops his rant and sinks back down, sighing heavily like he's reliving a nightmare.
"My name is... Ah, it's hard to say in Latese… Kyros. And I'll tell you what happened — the events that led to my painful exile from my home."
Woah, sounds like the start of a questline.
Typically, when a goblin is born, it emerges from a large plant known as a Goblos tree. Goblins are, in many ways, more akin to flora than fauna. They primarily reproduce asexually, budding from these strange trees. However, under rare circumstances, goblins may reproduce with other species. Those born of such unions are referred to as Halfs, while those birthed through asexual means are known as Pures.
Such was the origin of the young goblin who would later be named Kyros.
The creature stirred within a bed of green foliage, slowly pushing its way into the worldm, a sea of breath and sound.
Having emerged from the womb of the Goblos, it inhaled its first breath of air and stepped into life.
All around it stood others like itself, newborn goblins loosely assembled in small, uneven lines.
When a pure goblin is born, it is already the equivalent of five human years in mental development. It possesses rudimentary awareness and a sense of self, though it remains ignorant of nearly everything else.
Kyros began to approach the gathering, his movements uncertain. The group chattered amongst themselves in a primitive language composed of grunts and hisses, yet this strange tongue held clear meaning for its speakers.
"Everyone!" came a sharp command from a larger goblin at the head of the group. He held a staff, his bearing suggesting age and authority.
The murmurs died instantly, all eyes turning to the elder.
A dry chuckle escaped him. Whether he was amused by their sudden silence or merely by his own voice was unclear.
"Welcome to the world, my children," he declared. "You may feel fear or confusion, but rest assured: I shall guide you in the way of our kind. There is no need to be afraid."
The silence among the younglings was thick, yet there was no mistaking their curiosity.
"We will begin with introductions. There are twenty-three of you, so let us proceed promptly."
The elder moved down the line, one by one asking for names. Each goblin responded instinctively, as if the names were etched into their being. After each name, the elder assigned a role.
Unlike many creatures whose names are bestowed upon them, goblins are born knowing their designation. In their case, a name is not merely given, it is awakened.
"What is your name, young one?" the elder asked as he came to Kyros.
"K...Kyros," came the timid reply.
The chatter ceased once more. Dozens of gazes turned toward the speaker. Even the elder, despite his lack of eyes, seemed taken aback.
After a pause, he slowly nodded.
"I see. You have been born with the gift, the ability to communicate with the Sapients."
Turning to face the group, the elder let out a laugh.
"This is no time for shock, but for celebration! He can speak with the Sapients!"
Cheers and whispers spread throughout the gathered children. When the excitement finally settled, the elder placed a hand upon Kyros's head and spoke with solemn clarity.
"As for your role... Kyros," he said, "you shall protect. You will safeguard your siblings, placing their well-being above your own. You are kindhearted, and that kindness shall be your strength."
Kyros turned, gazing at the others.
Some clambered atop one another. Some laughed in strange bursts of sound. Others ran in disorganized circles, their bodies filled with youthful energy.
In that moment, he understood.
He was alive.
Life in the eighth layer was quite eventful. Every day, there was always something for the goblins to indulge in. The layer was covered in thick, lush forests, with creatures never seen before lurking around every corner.
"Look! A Flauran Bear!" A voice called out.
At this moment, Kyros, as well as three others, his siblings, were perched atop one of the tallest trees in the area, more than fifteen meters above the forest floor. The canopy around them was a dense sea of green, so thick that an ordinary human would struggle to see even a few feet ahead.
As for the others, the name for the slightly fatter one with a rhombus on his forehead was Flyros. Goblins were typically identified not just by physical distinctions, such as height or build, but primarily by the symbols on their foreheads, which were unique to each individual..
"Yeah, we know you wanna eat it!" Called out one with a star-like formation on his forehead. He was crouched right beside Kyros and carried himself with a brash, fiery energy. His name was Floros—the hotheaded one of the group.
"Guys be quiet, it's going to see us with your yammering!" The smallest one, with a feminine voice, called out. This one had a hexagon on her head, much more complicated in shape than the others. This was Tyros. The leader of this specific hunting party.
Among goblins, leadership was typically assigned to those with the most elaborate insignias, as complexity of the mark was considered a sign of innate capability. These leaders would form hunting packs and guide others through the dangers of the layer. The more experienced a goblin became, the deeper into the layers they would travel.
Kyros, still relatively young, was equivalent to around fifteen in human years. He only bore only a simple circle. For him, leadership was out of the question.
As for the bear that was in discussion, it was large, no larger than an adult human, and walked on its hind legs. It was ripped with muscle, possessing two large yellow eyes that darted from corner to corner. Its claws were powerful enough to tear into bark with relative ease.
The beast sniffed the air, disturbed by the foreign scent intruding upon its territory, the goblins.
Silently, the four stalked it, leaping from tree to tree with practiced grace, careful not to make a sound. Two of them darted ahead, circling to cut off the bear's retreat, while Kyros and Tyros followed from the rear to block any potential escape.
After nearly twelve minutes of silent pursuit, the bear entered a clearing where a small stream trickled through the underbrush. Seemingly exhausted, it paused at the water's edge, lowering its head to drink.
Now was the perfect time for the goblins to strike. The swaying of the leaves from the trees due to the gust of the wind perfectly masked any sounds. The clearing provided a clear view of the creature.
But..
Something felt off.
Noticing his comrades ready to leap into action, Kyros expressed his worries.
"Um, I think something's wrong." He said to Tyros, gesturing towards the bear.
She looked at him, a bit confused as to why he would pass up such a golden opportunity.
"What's wrong? He's in the perfect position."
"Flauran bears hate being exposed out in the open. They always prefer staying hidden from everything." He gazed at the bear. "What if… What if he's aware we are following him?"
A small snicker emanated from the group. They found his worriedness was something that was a part of his character. Given that his sole purpose was to protect everyone.
"Look, Kyros, you're looking way into this. It's an animal, he can't be that smart." Floros stated, his tone full of vigor.
"Besides, there are four of us if anything goes wrong." Flyros stated matter-of-factly.
Tyros only snarled like a rabid animal, not even giving her input on the situation. She simply stared at the bear like a savage, ready to tear into its innards and feast on it's flesh.
"B-But wait, what if we-"
Before he could even say anything further, the three lunged down below, their claws ready to impale inside their furry opponent.
What happened next defied all logic.
With the speed and precision of a seasoned killer, the bear twisted around mid-drink. In one swift motion, it opened its jaws wide, catching Flyros mid-air, then lashed out with its claw, striking both Floros and Tyros with bone-shattering force.
The clearing erupted in chaos. Blood covered the earth like tar rain.
Floros's body had been torn in half, his entrails scattered across the forest floor. The wet sheen of his innards caught the light, blood pooling slowly beneath him.
The upper half of his corpse lay buried in the thick bush, gone from sight.
Tyros had been sliced on a diagonal, her body nearly bisected from the crown of her head down to her arm. She lay crumpled in the grass, her own brain matter slathering her lifeless form.
And then there was Flyros.
The Flauran Bear had clamped its jaws around his neck, thrashing side to side with feral force, spraying blood like a fountain across the clearing. It should have been a moment of agony, screaming, begging, writhing.
But Flyros did none of that.
Instead, he snarled.
With a vicious, animalistic fury, he lashed out at the bear's face, his claws gouging toward its eyes. He fought with a wrath that mirrored the beast's. Neither seemed capable of understanding anything but one command:
Kill.
From above, Kyros watched the carnage unfold. The shock of it all was overwhelming—but more than the blood, what rooted him in place was the unrelenting fire in Flyros's struggle. That he still fought, still resisted, even in such a state…
"You shall protect."
The voice rang in his head.
Snapping out of his daze, Kyros leapt from the tree. He lunged at the bear's face, driving his fingers into its eye. The creature roared in pain, momentarily releasing Flyros in a frenzy of confusion.
It flailed, staggering from the agony.
Kyros tore his hand free and dropped beside his wounded brother.
Flyros, though soaked in blood and limp from injury, still snarled like a rabid beast, clawing at the air with no sense of self.
They had to get out of this situation as soon as possible.
Kyros wrapped his arms around Flyros, trying to drag him to safety while the bear stumbled in pain behind them. But something was wrong.
Flyros wasn't trying to escape.
He thrashed in Kyros's grasp, trying to tear himself free. His focus remained locked on the bear, as if possessed. His arms flailed around with no sense of direction, just to attack.
"Fly! Stop! Please! We need to get out of here!!"
"KhkhkhkHK!!"
Flyros growled in response, more beast than anything. Still, Kyros held on.
"Flyros, please! Listen to me!"
Again and again he pleaded, but Flyros didn't hear him. Then, on the twenty-second plea, Flyros's clawed hand struck upward, piercing into Kyros's jaw. Blood trailed down the attackers claw, dripping down unto the grass.
Pain shot through him, but he refused to let go.
To release him would be to abandon him. To fail the only directive he held dear. To fail as a brother.
"I won't let go. I won't let you die here."
This went beyond simply saving someone. This was his family, his kin, one of those who grew alongside him.
This was the same Flyros who used to share his portion of meals with him whenever the others had already finished theirs.
The same Flyros who had been constantly made fun off for his slightly larger stature than the rest.
The same Flyros who had been kind to those around him, no matter how much they disgraced his honour.
Now, he was no more than a rabid mess, a beastly creature of the night, desperate to kill the opponent in front of him.
It hurt.
It hurt to see him like this.
Kyros gritted his teeth, still grunting in exertion from pulling his brother.
Suddenly, a staff touched his shoulder. It was neither too hard to cause any sort of pain, nor soft enough to be ignored in the chaotic scene.
Kyros looked up.
The elder stood above him, expression unreadable.
"Sir, please! Flyros is—he's—!"
"Leave him."
"...What?"
"I said, leave him."
Kyros froze. The elder was the tribe's voice of reason. Disobedience was unthinkable; he was aware of that much…
Yet…
"Why?! I can't just abandon him! Please, just—"
A sharp crack to the back of his head. Kyros crumpled.
Freed from restraint, Flyros dropped to all fours and charged the bear, ignoring all wounds, his body consumed by fury. The bear, now fully recovered, identified him as the attacker and turned its full rage on him.
It roared, a monstrous sound that shook the clearing.
Flyros returned the roar, leaping at the beast with primal rage. His leap had covered about 3 meters, an astonishing feat his sane self would have ever considered possible.
"Tyros!!" Kyros screamed, voice hoarse.
The elder didn't move. His expression remained vacant. Unmoved.
Kyros tried to run, desperate to save his brother, but the elder's staff stopped him like a wall. Just a stick. But Kyros couldn't move past it. No matter how much he attempted to move around it, something deeper, older, rooted him in place.
"—Tyros!!"
Blood sprayed across the grass.
"——Tyros!!"
"————TYROS!!!"
He couldn't reach him. Couldn't cross the distance. His own instincts had shackled him in place.
For three agonizing minutes, silence returned, broken only by the bear's heavy breathing and the rustling of its retreat.
Then, finally, the elder spoke.
"This is our true nature."
Kyros stared at the bloodstained clearing.
"...What..?"
"No matter how civil we pretend to be, at our core, we are nothing more than beasts. Do you understand, Kyros? This violence… this madness… it is not unnatural. It is who we are. We are goblins."
Kyros couldn't reply. His throat was raw from screaming.
The elder gestured across the clearing with his staff.
"This is the cycle our kind is cursed to repeat. Even the brightest minds I've seen: scholars, thinkers, dreamers, they all fall to it. The moment they feel fear, or hatred, or bloodlust… they become this.
"To kill, rape, and steal. This is our directive in this life."
Kyros watched as the bear dragged Flyros's body away, disappearing into the undergrowth.
Gone.
"I created this tribe in the Umbral Valley to escape the surface goblins and their savagery. But I have failed. I see now—our nature cannot be undone by ideals alone."
He turned to Kyros.
"I need your help. Help me reshape our people into something new. Something better."
Kyros stared blankly, unable to process it all.
"Why…"
"I know you hate me. I let your brother die. But I've tried to save ones like him before."
He lifted his sleeve. The flesh beneath was blackened, shredded beyond recognition. "There is no saving a maddened goblin. Had you gone after him, you would've died too."
Kyros looked down at the grass. He trembled.
Then he clenched his hands.
"Alright," he whispered. "I'll help you. I'll help you."
After all, his directive was to protect. Even if it was from themselves.
In the days that followed the bloodshed, Kyros grew into a fine young goblin—respected by his peers, diligent in his work, and rarely taking a moment for himself. Whenever a new batch of goblin children was born, he took it upon himself to instill calm and restraint in them.
One of his methods was simple, yet effective: he would present a small bird to the younglings, safely enclosed within a handmade cage. Predictably, the children would react with instinctual savagery, lunging toward the creature. But Kyros would step in firm, commanding, and somehow gentle, and calm them.
It was never instantaneous. It took years of repetition, years of exposure, gradually introducing larger and more provocative creatures as the goblins matured.
The goal was always the same: to teach them control.
And for the most part, it worked.
The results spoke for themselves. Kyros had almost singlehandedly shifted the nature of his tribe. Violence still existed, yes,but now, it was tempered.
Thoughtful. Intentional. Not mindless. It was only reserved for hunting, no more.
There was still much to be done, and Kyros was well aware of that. But for now, he allowed himself a rare thought:
Progress.
A knock interrupted his thoughts.
He opened the door to find the elder, now hunched and visibly aged, the passage of time etched deeply into his frame.
"Ah, Elder. Welcome."
"Kyros… come with me." The old goblin's voice carried a rare warmth.
Without further explanation, the elder turned and began walking. Kyros followed, closing the door behind him. As he descended the steps, he looked around and a quiet pride stirred in his chest.
The village had changed.
Homes now stood tall, built into and from the forest's vast trees. A great hall, crowned with a dome of polished bark and lightstone, stood proudly at the center. Goblins roamed its paths, laughing, talking, trading fruits, meat, and crafted tools.
"I see you've begun to reap the fruits of your efforts," the elder said, keeping his hands folded behind his back. His staff supported him, upright and sturdy, even as his body weakened.
The sun filtered gently through the canopy above, painting the village in soft, golden hues. Life pulsed all around them. Laughter echoed from shaded paths. Smoke rose lazily from kitchens and fires.
They rounded a corner.
To their right, a small open-air food stall served hungry goblins. Some rested on stumps and stones, trading gossip and discussing plans for the next hunt. Kyros offered a humble nod.
"Thank you, Elder. Though I believe much work remains. I will age too, one day. I must prepare the next generation to carry the flame forward, so they may teach the next… and so on."
The elder stopped. He gazed upward toward the towering Goblos Tree. The sun shone brightly behind it, illuminating its leaves.
"I still remember when this place was nothing more than a few vine-covered huts in darkness," he murmured. "When we spoke in grunts and screams."
He wiped his face, overcome.
"Now… it's a home. A true one."
His voice wavered slightly.
"After all these years…"
This was a goblin who had witnessed centuries of violence. Who had watched kin slaughter kin, had stood under the shadow of their species' darkest instincts.
And now, he stood in the light.
And he laughed.
Turning to Kyros, he placed a hand on the young goblin's shoulder.
"You've made a man at the end of his life… feel as if it's only just beginning."
A pause.
"Thank you."
Kyros nodded, standing tall. "It is my directive. Protection can come in many ways, you know."
The murmuring of the town hall echoed across its high ceiling. Around the central seat, where the Elder usually presided, the tribe's higher-ups whispered among themselves, discussing a matter of great importance.
Kyros was to be appointed the next chief.
He stood beside the Elder's chair at the center of the room. Surrounding them were the carved seats of the council, positions reserved for those who shaped the fate of the tribe. The atmosphere, normally filled with bickering and drawn-out debates, was strangely quiet.
The Elder slowly rose, gripping his staff with both hands.
"I am nearing the end of my life," he began, voice ringing clear. "I wish to live the rest of my days in solitary peace. As such, I must name a successor. And I believe this goes without saying—"
He turned toward Kyros.
"—the young Kyros is the only one fit for the role."
Silence fell again, not from hesitation, but agreement.
Normally, this council would argue over trivial matters for hours, yet today, there was no dissent. The decision was obvious. Kyros had transformed their tribe. He had taken chaos and shaped it into structure.
Taught generations to control their urges. Built peace where there had only been blood.
It was only natural that he became the next leader.
"Then it is settled," the Elder declared.
With slow reverence, he picked up the staff, the symbol of leadership, and held it out toward Kyros.
Kyros's heart raced. Fear, doubt, and pride all swirled within him. His hand trembled over the staff. He knew this position would come with great responsibility, but also the power to make even greater changes. It was the only path forward.
It was his dream to one day walk beside the sapient races as equals.
He reached out—
"CHIEF!"
A voice burst through the hall. Harsh, ragged, desperate.
Everyone turned.
A medium-sized goblin stood in the doorway, blood pouring from his side. He clutched his arm, breathing in wet gasps.
"Toros?" the Elder asked, now gripping his cane.
"The… front gates… They've been breached… by a—!"
He never finished the sentence.
A blur.
A crunch.
Toros's upper half soared across the room, spinning grotesquely through the air. It slammed against the wall and dropped to the ground like meat.
Gasps. Silence. Horror.
And there, in the doorway, stood the intruder.
Towering. Hulking. His black frame nearly touched the arch of the door. Muscle rippled beneath skin like obsidian. Jagged armor-like bone wrapped his shoulders and neck, giving him the silhouette of a beast carved from stone.
Two curved horns jutted from his skull. A mask-like face bore no emotion. Only two narrow slits marked his eyes—one of them glowing faintly red.
A massive club hung from his hand like a child's toy.
An orc.
The room froze.
Then—
"Can you goblins breed with any race?"
His voice was a low growl that shook the air like thunder. It coiled around Kyros, pressing against his chest like a weight.
No one answered.
Without warning, the orc swung his club, casual, effortless.
The group of goblins standing on the left were instantly pulverized. Bones shattered. Limbs flew. A black mist of blood and gore painted the wall.
Then came the chaos.
Screams.
Scrambling feet.
"Can you goblins breed with any race?" the orc asked again, unshaken.
"Y-Yes…" the Elder stammered.
Kyros's mind reeled. An orc… here? The eighth layer was dangerous, but never had one descended this far. How had he even found the village? The Umbral Valley's top layers alone were deadly. This wasn't supposed to be possible.
The orc strode forward, stopping before Kyros and the Elder. His eyes pierced through them.
"Make me an army."
"…What?" Kyros whispered.
"Goblins breed with other sapient races to create new monsters. Smarter. Stronger. I was born from a goblin and a daemon. My name is Lyrox."
Kyros had heard of such experiments on the surface. Hybrid monsters used as weapons by nations. Disgusting tactics. Goblins were often the ones sacrificed, used like breeding stock. Their offspring usually killed the goblin parent immediately.
They had no choice.
The Elder slowly stood, defiant despite the odds. "No—"
In that instant.
In that instant.
In that instant.
The Elder's headless body collapsed to the ground, blood spilling across the floor like spilled ink.
And the room descended into true madness.
Kyros stared, unable to process. No matter how he searched for an explanation, all paths led back to one conclusion:
The Elder was dead.
The orc grabbed the old goblin's corpse and threw it against the wall with a thud. Then he sat right where the Elder once sat, lounging like a king.
"You," he said to Kyros.
Kyros flinched.
"Get out of my city. I don't want you putting ideas in my people's heads."
Kyros looked around.
The other council members… were nodding.
No cries of resistance. No outrage. Only compliance.
The people he had taught control and kindness were mindlessly nodding like dogs when the man who had taught them about such positive things was banished.
And so Kyros was banished—from the home where he was born, where he had built a future, where he had tried to lead his kind into the light.
Now smothered again… in shadow.
"Damn…" I mutter, clenching my fist.
Kyros sits hunched over, eyes dim. The fire's crackle is the only sound between us for a moment.
"Now, I believe that Tyrox has begun kidnapping humans and other sapient races from the surface," he finally says. "He's using them to breed hybrid monsters..."
I glance at Navi. She's wearing the same expression as me: tense, frustrated, quietly angry.
"Listen," she says, crouching near Kyros, "you don't need to give up just because you lost your tribe. You can always start again."
I push myself up from the rock I'd been sitting on, brushing off my pants.
The goblin looks up at us. It's subtle, but the despair I can feel from him is deep. Not just pain.
Utter defeat.
"Are you really gonna let some orc take over your tribe after everything you built?" I say. "C'mon, orcs are like mid-tier enemies, man."
"You do not understand," Kyros replies quietly. "Tyrox is immensely powerful. I wish I could challenge him. Truly. But I cannot do anything on my own." His gaze sinks toward the earth.
"Who said you're on your own?" Navi steps beside me, arms crossed. "Show us the way."
Kyros looks between the two of us, puzzled.
"I assumed... you only came to rescue members of your own species."
"Meh," I shrug, "what'll go wrong with a little side objective?"
If the goblin had lips, I'd feel like he'd smile. He stands up straighter than he has in what feels like hours.
"Thank you," he says. "But we must hurry. The upper four layers of the Umbral Valley are extremely dangerous."
"We'll be fine," Navi says, stretching her arms as she arches her back.
"Lead the way," I add.
Kyros nods and turns toward a wide hole in the ground, only a few meters away. Without hesitation, he hops in and disappears into the darkness.
I step toward the edge and peer down. My eyes widen.
It's... pitch black. Not even a glint of depth, just void. The wind whistling up from below makes my spine itch.
"Hey, you know," I say, slowly turning to Navi, "you can go first, Ms. Pure. Ladies fir—"
Her foot slams into my back.
"Eh?"
I fall into the hole like a coin.
"YAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!"