The wind howled over the open plains, brushing through the tall grass like waves on a green sea.
The ground trembled—softly at first, then violently—as hundreds of goblins shrieked from beyond the hill. Their laughter echoed, high-pitched and maddening, a twisted symphony of chaos that crawled under David's skin.
David's instinct kicked in. He spun on his heel and bolted.
"NOPE. Nope, nope, nope! Screw this!" he yelled, waving his arms like a madman. "I'm not dying for a farm! I don't even like vegetables!"
But before he could take three steps, a firm hand clamped around his arm.
"Let go, Daryl!" David barked, yanking and twisting—but Daryl's grip didn't budge. His cold blue eyes stared straight ahead, reflecting the swarm of monsters charging toward them.
"We're about to fight," Daryl said, his tone calm—too calm.
David froze, blinking at him as if he'd just heard the dumbest thing in history. "...Fight? You mean them?" He jabbed a finger toward the army of goblins. "That's not a fight, Daryl! That's a damn suicide mission!"
Daryl didn't flinch. "We either fight and try to win… or we run away like cowards. I'd rather die a fighter."
David's jaw dropped. "Good for you, knight boy! I'll just die of old age, thanks!" He pointed down the hill. "There are a hundred of them, Daryl! One. Hundred. That's like—ninety-eight too many for my liking!"
But Daryl cut him off, stepping forward like a wall of iron. "We promised to help her."
David stared, slack-jawed. "Oh my god, you're really doing this heroic bullshit right now?"
Daryl turned, eyes sharp as his saber. "We either die like heroes or die like cowards. Which one are you, Mr. Hawk?"
David threw his hands up. "Oh, for crying out loud, I told you to fight those first twelve goblins! That was manageable! Reasonable! But this—THIS is the entire damn goblin population!"
Daryl said nothing—his silence said everything. His eyes, focused and unshaken, reflected something that made David's chest tighten for just a moment.
"Tch…" David clicked his tongue. "You're serious, aren't you?"
"Yes."
The air grew heavy.
The rhythmic pounding of goblin feet grew louder, closer—like drums of war.
David sighed, rubbing his face. "You're out of your damn mind…"
He looked up—and froze.
The goblin army crested over the hill, sunlight glinting off the rusted blades and jagged clubs they carried. The earth shook.
Daryl's voice came, low and certain. "You don't have much of a choice."
David turned slowly, eyes wide. "Oh yeah? And why the hell not?"
"Because…" Daryl's hand went to his saber, the steel whispering as it left its sheath. "They're already here."
David's heart dropped.
He followed Daryl's gaze—and saw the horde, eyes glowing red like hundreds of tiny lanterns in a field of death.
"Oh… shiiiiiit."
The first arrow whistled past his cheek.
Then came the roar of a hundred goblins screaming in unison—
—and all hell broke loose.
The wind howled like a beast on the plains. The smell of dirt, iron, and fear hung heavy in the air.
All around them, the goblins' laughter rattled like broken wind chimes—high, mocking, endless.
David's knees trembled. His grip on Sticky slick with sweat. His heart hammered so fast it felt like it would burst through his ribs.
And yet, beside him, Daryl stood tall. Unshaken.
That same calm, unyielding presence — the man's every breath screamed discipline.
"Mr. Hawk!" Daryl barked, voice slicing through the chaos. "You said you beat a slime with your stick, didn't you?!"
David blinked, startled. "Wha—? Uh, yeah, I did, but—"
"And you said you changed," Daryl pressed on, eyes burning now. "You said you fought that slime as part of your training. You said it was for discipline. Right!?"
David's throat went dry. The words echoed in his skull, the same ones he'd said before — back when it was just him and a jelly blob.
Fighting monsters. Training. Discipline.
He had said it. He meant it… didn't he?
"Y-yeah," he muttered weakly.
Daryl took a step closer, the earth crunching beneath his boots. His voice rose, sharp as his saber.
"Then do you—" he slammed a hand against his chest— "or do you NOT want to fight monsters? Do you NOT want to train?! To LEARN discipline?!"
David flinched, backing up slightly. His lip quivered. The fear in
in his gut tangled with guilt.
"Uhh…" he stammered, eyes darting to the endless tide of goblins charging across the field.
"C-Can I think about it—?"
"ANSWER ME!" Daryl roared.
The sound was thunder itself.
David's face twisted, his eyes stung, and he shouted back, voice cracking under pressure—
"YEAH! OKAY! I DO!"
Daryl's jaw tightened. For the first time, he smiled — not mockery, but pride.
"Then for once in your pathetic life…" he said, raising his saber, its steel glinting in the sun.
"HELP ME. Just this once, Mr. Hawk."
The world seemed to still.
The goblins roared in the distance, but to David, the noise faded into a hum.
It was just him and Daryl.
David looked down, gripping Sticky tighter. The trembling stopped. He drew a shaky breath, then another. His heartbeat slowed, focusing, syncing with Daryl's stance beside him.
"...Okay," he whispered. Then louder. "Fine. I'll do it."
He glanced sideways at Daryl, forcing a crooked grin. "But you have to promise… promise you'll keep me safe, yeah?"
Daryl's eyes softened, just for a moment. He lowered his saber and nodded once, solemnly.
"On my bloodline," he said quietly. "I'll protect you."
David exhaled. It was enough.
He raised Sticky to his shoulder, standing beside Daryl. Two men against an army.
The wind kicked up again — fierce, carrying the scent of iron and dust.
They exchanged one final nod. No more words. No hesitation.
And then—
Both of them broke into a sprint, charging down the hill toward the roaring sea of green monsters.
The clash was inevitable.
The scream of courage and madness joined as one.
"LET'S GO, DARYL!"
"STAY CLOSE, MR. HAWK!"
Blades met clubs. Wood met flesh.
The battle for survival began.