"FALL BACK! FALL BACK TO THE INNER CHAMBERS!"
The roar came from deeper in the cave. Satou's head whipped toward the sound. Through the dust and confusion, he saw them—adult goblins, dozens of them, fleeing through the tunnels. Some carried weapons. Others dragged wounded comrades. All of them looked terrified.
Behind them came the sounds of pursuit. The heavy clank of boots on stone. Shouted orders in the common tongue.
"Don't let any escape! Kill every last one!"
"Check the side tunnels! They're like rats—they'll hide anywhere!"
"Mage squad, prepare another volley!"
Satou's mind raced. The humans—because that's what they had to be—were already inside the cave. The defenses had fallen. The guards were dead. And from the sound of it, the goblins were being slaughtered.
We're trapped.
Another group of adult goblins rushed past, this time carrying something—no, someone. The old shaman. His white beard was matted with blood, his body limp in the arms of his carriers. His eyes were closed, his breathing shallow.
"The shaman!" one goblin screamed. "We need to get him to safety! He's the only one who can—"
CRACK!
A spear of ice materialized out of thin air and punched through the speaker's chest. The goblin's words cut off into a wet gurgle as he crumpled. The shaman's body tumbled from dying arms, hitting the ground with a sickening thud.
The remaining carriers scattered, abandoning the old goblin to his fate.
Satou's breath caught. The shaman—the one who'd spoken about the prophecy, about the "goblin god"—lay there in the dirt, bleeding, alone.
For a split second, their eyes met.
The old goblin's lips moved, forming words Satou couldn't hear over the chaos. But he could read them.
"Run... child..."
Then a shadow fell over the shaman. A human soldier—tall, armored in steel plate that gleamed even through the smoke—stepped into view. He raised his sword.
"Found some goblins over here."
Another voice, cold and commanding, echoed from deeper in the tunnel. "Kill them all. We can't let any escape."
The sword fell.
Satou turned away, his jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached. He couldn't watch. He couldn't afford to waste any more time—not when he could already feel death creeping closer. His body hadn't fully recovered yet, and the humans attacking were far stronger than anything he'd faced before.
Think. Think!
Satou's mind raced, frantically running through every possible escape route. Every scenario ended the same way—with him, Jessica, and Kelvin dead in the dirt.
His chest tightened. His breathing grew shallow.
Is this it? Is this where I die—again?
He was about to surrender to despair when something caught his eye.
Behind him, huddled near the cave wall, was a group of goblins—maybe twenty in total. Most were wounded, clutching bleeding arms or limping on broken legs. Among them lay the elder goblin, still breathing but barely conscious, his chest rising and falling in weak, ragged gasps.
Satou stared at them.
Then, like a spark in the darkness, an idea flickered to life.
With them... my chances of surviving jump to 30 percent. Not great, but it's something.
His lips curled into a grim smile.
"Better than zero."
Satou took a deep breath and started walking toward the group of wounded goblins. Each step felt heavier than the last. Jessica grabbed his arm, her voice trembling.
"Big brother, where are you going?"
"Stay here," Satou said firmly, gently pulling his arm free. "Keep Kelvin close. I'll be right back."
"But—"jessica wanted to say but was cut short by satou
"Stay. Here." said satou
Jessica flinched at his tone but nodded, tears welling in her eyes. Kelvin pulled her back, wrapping his small arms around her.
Satou approached the huddled goblins. Their eyes—yellow, bloodshot, filled with pain and terror—tracked his every movement. Some clutched makeshift weapons. Others pressed their hands against bleeding wounds. The air around them reeked of sweat, blood, and fear.
The elder goblin lay propped against the cave wall, his chest rising and falling in shallow, labored breaths. Two adult goblins knelt beside him, one pressing a torn cloth against a gaping wound on his side.
Satou stopped a few feet away and raised his voice, projecting as much confidence as he could muster.
"Listen to me! I know a way out of here—a way we can all survive!"
Silence.
Then, one of the adult goblins—a scarred brute with a chipped tusk—let out a harsh bark of laughter.
"You?" The goblin sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "A newborn? You think you can save us?"
Another goblin, smaller but no less hostile, spat on the ground. "We're being slaughtered by trained human soldiers and mages, and this runt thinks he has answers?"
"Go back to your mother's teat, whelp!" a third shouted, and several others joined in the laughter.
"Yeah! What does a newborn know about war?"
"Probably can't even hold a sword properly!"
"We're doomed, and this little shit wants to play hero!"
The mockery grew louder, echoing off the cave walls. Satou's jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides. His pride screamed at him to lash out, to prove them wrong with his fists. But he forced himself to stay calm.
They're scared. Terrified. Lashing out because they feel powerless.
Before Satou could respond, a weak but sharp cough cut through the noise.
"Silence."
The voice was faint, barely above a whisper, but it carried weight. Authority.
The laughter died instantly.
The elder goblin's eyes cracked open, his gaze sharp despite the pain etched across his wrinkled face. He raised one trembling hand.
"Enough... you fools..."
The goblins fell silent, their heads bowing slightly in deference. The elder's word was absolute—even now, on the brink of death.
The elder's gaze shifted to Satou, and his cracked lips curled into the faintest hint of a smile.
"You..." he rasped. "Come... closer, child."
Satou hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward. The adult goblins parted reluctantly, their eyes burning with resentment as he approached.