The trio had been walking for what felt like forever. The wind brushed across the open plains, bending the tall grass back and forth in slow waves. The sun hung lazily above them, burning down on David's neck.
David was panting, dragging his feet like a dying zombie. "M–Mistay, for the love of God, how far are these monsters?"
Mistay turned, walking backward with her hands on her hips and a cheerful grin. "Oh, just a little further! We're almost there!"
Daryl muttered, "That's what you said five hills ago."
Mistay pointed forward. "No really! Just up this small hill!"
They climbed the rise, the wind blowing hard enough to push David's hood back. His cloak whipped behind him like a cape that had given up on life. As they reached the top, a gust of air blasted through the grass—and when they looked down the other side, the sight made David's jaw drop.
Goblins.
Dozens of them.
Ugly, green, snickering creatures tearing through a small wooden farm like wild dogs. They were smashing barrels, breaking fences, and even riding on cows like it was a rodeo.
Mistay's eyes welled up with tears. "See!? These mean goblins are trashing my farm!"
Daryl crossed his arms. "But why? You didn't happen to piss off the goblins, did you?"
Mistay gasped dramatically. "What!? No, of course not! I'm as innocent as a butterfly, I swears it!" She raised one hand like she was in court.
David squinted. "Yeah… that's a guilty face if I've ever seen one."
Mistay puffed her cheeks. "It's not!"
David waved dismissively. "Who cares, anyway. We—as in you, Mr. Daryl—are going to fight those goblins."
Daryl's head snapped toward him. "And what about you, coward?"
Mistay added, "Yeah, why aren't you helping too?"
David gave a fake cough and looked away. "Uhh… because I'd rather live, not die. Well, at least not today."
Daryl sighed, rolling his eyes. "Fine, fine. I'll fight these disgusting green pigs."
"Thank you, Daryl! You're the best!" David called out with an exaggerated thumbs-up.
Daryl didn't even turn around—he just raised his middle finger high as he walked down the hill.
Mistay blinked. "Um… was that a good sign or a bad one?"
David shrugged. "Knowing Daryl? Both."
Down the hill, Daryl walked calmly into the open field, his coat brushing his legs as the goblins finally noticed him. They stopped smashing things and turned to face him—thirty pairs of tiny red eyes narrowing.
One of the goblins screeched, waving its club. "Kreeeek! Fresh meat!"
Daryl sighed, clearly disgusted. "You revolting little worms… you smell like burnt cabbage."
They started charging—knives flashing, arrows ready.
Daryl raised his hand and shouted, "Halt!"
The goblins actually slowed, confused by his commanding tone. For a brief, absurd moment, they thought he might be one of their leaders. Daryl cracked his neck, and raised his right arm. "Tetsu Arts: Rope Summon."
A faint purple glow shimmered around his wrist, followed by a ripple of energy running down his arm. From the glow, a chain of light materialized, uncoiling like a snake until it solidified into a smooth, dark rope that pulsed faintly with symbols.
Mistay's jaw dropped. "He—He actually summoned a rope out of thin air! Oh my cow, he's so cool!"
David frowned. "Yeah, until he hangs me with it—wait, why's he looking at me like that?"
And right then, Daryl's rope shot out—whipping through the air like lightning.
It missed every goblin.
Instead, it wrapped perfectly around David's leg.
David blinked. "W–What the hell—"
Before he could finish, Daryl yanked hard.
"Wha—NO, NO, NO!" David screamed as he was dragged down the hill like a human ragdoll, bouncing and tumbling through the dirt. Mistay gasped, clutching her cheeks.
"Wow! He even caught his partner! Such teamwork!"
David yelled back, his voice cracking. "MISTAY, THIS IS NOT TEAMWORK!"
Daryl's eyes glinted as he spun the rope around in a full circle, swinging David through the air. The wind roared past David's ears as his body started spinning faster and faster.
"D–DARYL STOP!" he screamed.
Daryl, a manic grin forming, shouted over the wind, "I CALL THIS MOVE—THE HAWK ATTACK!"
"WAIT—WHAT—NO—!"
Daryl began rotating faster, the rope whistling, the ground blurring beneath them. Even the goblins stopped running, staring in awe and fear.
Mistay clasped her hands, sparkling-eyed. "He's so cool! He's spinning his friend like a weapon!"
David screamed, "HE'S NOT COOL, HE'S CRAZY!"
And then—
Daryl released.
"GOOOO!"
David shot through the air like a cannonball, spinning wildly, Sticky in his hands, his face frozen in terror.
"DARYYYYYL YOU PSYCHOPATHHHHHHHHHH—!"
He crashed into the center of the goblin horde like a meteor, a massive BOOM shaking the entire field. Dirt exploded upward, grass flew, and a shockwave of dust rolled over the hills.
Mistay's hair blew back from the blast, her mouth hanging open. "Oh… my… cow."
Daryl crossed his arms, smirking proudly. "Perfect landing."
As the smoke cleared, the air settled heavy over the farm. The smell of scorched dirt and burnt hay lingered. Dust floated lazily in the breeze.
David's entire body was half-buried in the dirt, only his head poking out like a turnip. Sticky was still clutched in his hand, trembling.
The once-rowdy goblins were scattered across the field—unconscious, twitching, or face-down in piles of hay.
Mistay's horns perked up, her tail swishing wildly. "You did it! Daryl, you did it! You saved my farm!"
Daryl stood tall amid the carnage, cloak fluttering from the wind, a faint smirk forming. "Indeed I did," he said coolly, brushing a bit of slime from his sleeve. "Though I must give some credit to our cowardly hero."
David's muffled voice came from the dirt. "Mmmmmm."
Daryl tilted his head down toward him. "See? Even when you're useless, you still manage to be useful."
Mistay clapped her hands together. "Still! You two make a great team! You really showed those green freaks who's boss!"
But just as the air started to calm—
a faint giggle echoed.
It came from behind the barn.
Daryl froze mid-step, his saber half-drawn. He turned slowly, the edge of his blade glinting in the sunlight. "...What was that?"
A single goblin peeked out from behind a haystack, its red eyes gleaming with mischief. It grinned, sharp teeth flashing, and snickered again.
Daryl exhaled sharply. "Great. One more. Fine. I'll clean up this last one."
He stepped forward, sword poised. The goblin ducked behind the barn, still giggling.
"Come out," Daryl muttered under his breath, voice low and calm. "Let's get this over with—"
Then another giggle.
Then two more.
Then ten.
Dozens of little heads popped out from the shadows, the fields, and even the broken barn windows—each with those glowing red eyes and crooked grins.
The laughter grew into a chorus of screeching giggles.
Daryl's eyes widened slightly. "...Oh, for heaven's sake."
He took a step back, grip tightening on his saber. "Mistay," he said slowly, not taking his eyes off the growing horde. "You wouldn't happen to have mentioned you were housing a small army, would you?"
Mistay's voice shook. "I–I didn't know there were this many! I swear there were only a few!"
David finally pulled himself halfway out of the dirt, blinking in confusion. "What's going on now—?"
Daryl glanced at him, dead serious. "Master Hawk… I will need assistance."
David brushed the dirt off his face, groggy. "Assistance? For wha—"
Then he turned.
And froze.
His pupils shrank. The hill was moving.
No—those weren't hills. That was a massive swarm of goblins crawling over each other, hundreds of them, all laughing and screeching as they pointed down toward him.
David's face went pale. "HOLY—SHIT."
He scrambled to his feet, clutching Sticky like a sword. "DARYL, WHAT KIND OF FARM IS THIS?!"
Daryl sighed, raising his saber into stance, the wind tugging at his coat. "The kind that's about to become a battlefield."
Mistay, trembling, squeaked, "O-Oh no… my crops…"
David yelled, "WHO CARES ABOUT YOUR CROPS—THEY'RE GONNA TURN US INTO CROPS!"
Daryl cracked his neck and muttered under his breath, "And here I thought this would be a quiet day…"
The goblins screamed in unison—
and charged.