Goblin's Desire to Serve
The lord knows best; he saved me from nothingness. He gave his last breath. How can we not do the same for his behest? Yet he still allows choices. So I must do the same and welcome the lost lambs to be free in our lord's embrace. He welcomes all, even the lowest, like me.
—Reflections of desire from the first disciple
The goblin was content. He had found peace with his lord in this cave, feeling things slowly changing around them. When his lord spoke in his mind, many transformations were taking place, both deep in the ground and on the surface.
What would you have me do? he thought back. He sensed his lord wanted time and needed to grow stronger. He understood this—it was why he had secured a guardian.
I touch other souls to bring into the fold—one willing, and a deed will be done. One uncertain, untested.
The area of land was now under his lord's control. The ground had gone from barren to blooming with flowers. Even if it wasn't completely cleansed, the rot seemed to resist, but the lord's control pushed against it. Their lord's influence was spreading, and the light was starting to flee his touch.
The goblin walked near the cave to enjoy the transformation. The flowers were pleasant to smell, and the new trees—oh, how the blooming petals fell like black raindrops upon the land, making him smile. He knew of the forest from his past. Before, the leaves and nature had been interesting enough, but now that he embraced the dark, he could see how they fell short of what their lord could create. Nature's mana was closer to that indifferent light that would hunt him without mercy, like the elves had done before he found his lord.
It was all surface-level for now, but slowly shadows were taking root deep in the earth—permanent, unchanging—and they would grow and expand. The thought made him so happy.
Yet he sensed that others had arrived in the distance.
He refused to trouble his lord with such a minor matter. Both he and his lord already knew they had come, whether by luck or design. Either way, they were riding in this direction.
The goblin trusted the guardian beast to handle any threat, but there were many of them. He wanted insurance to keep his lord safe. His lord wasn't worth risking, regardless of his power, so the goblin reached out to the one who had already touched his lord's essence and whispered a choice:
"Assist my lord, or die with the light."
Tom felt like shit—really sick, the kind of sick that made everything blur together. He didn't know why Jerry kept a crystal of light that he used constantly to purify the area around them, but Jerry refused to let the crystal go.
Jerry said the champion had been stupid—the crystal was meant to cleanse darkness, not just land, and should always be kept close, like Jerry was doing. Tom wasn't sure that made sense, but Jerry was in charge.
They kept going deeper into the canyon when a voice in Tom's head kept suggesting they should rest.
"Jer, can we rest?" he finally asked.
"I already told you not to call me that, little shit. By the light, you look terrible. Probably smell like it too." Tom tried to smile and show he could keep going, but watching Jerry's face shift between anger and what might have been pity was confusing when he felt like throwing up.
"WE CAMP HERE!" Jerry shouted and even handed Tom the crystal. This surprised Tom. Maybe Jerry feared Tom dying out here and knew the crystal could heal him? That was considerate.
That night, as they slept, Tom—still burning with fever—was visited and given a choice.
I do not beg. I ask once, as mercy and gift: do you wish to serve me?
Tom, lost between what was real and what was fever dream, simply said, "Yes."
Words mean nothing to me. The goddess of light offered me words, then death. I want more from you.
Still lost in the haze, Tom nodded as best he could.
Break the rock of light. Even a crack will do. The intent will be enough.
Tom wasn't sure why, but he wanted this burning sickness to stop. If all he had to do was break a rock that did nothing for him anyway, what did he care? People had asked worse of him for less reason.
He crawled to the edge of his tent where the crystal was kept in a side pouch of his day shirt. He was naked now, trying to break the cursed fever that burned in his flesh. The crystal was supposed to stop that kind of sickness, wasn't it? He tried to focus.
Taking the crystal back to his bedroll, he got his knife and hit it with the hilt. It remained intact, just sinking slightly into the earth.
He placed the crystal on his helmet for a harder surface, steadied his trembling hand while aiming with the knife's hilt, and struck again. The crystal cracked—not a clean break—and he smashed his fingers in the process, nearly screaming from the pain. He fell back, gripping his wounded hand, when sudden calmness washed over him.
You have earned your place. Rest and be free. Tomorrow they will ride to their death; you will not.
=====
Jerry was pissed about all the delays, but he felt they were getting closer to something. He'd been following the trail of black splotches, cleansing them as he found them, hoping to locate their source. The trail led to these mountains, and even now, everything looked wrong—like some kind of shadow plain at the edge of a dark forest. Every breath was harder, somewhat choking. He hated it. He assumed this land should only be rot, but maybe a source of water nearby allowed this twisted form to exist among the rot.
Tom appeared before him, looking much better and staring directly at him. Odd—Tom had never looked Jerry in the eye before.
"You good, fuckface? Feeling rested? Your lazy ass has been causing delays."
Tom looked at him with complete indifference, chilling Jerry more than he expected. For the first time, Jerry didn't know what to say. But Tom did.
"I'm going to wait here. You go ahead."
That boldness nearly made Jerry shit himself. Where the hell had Tom gotten those balls? Jerry wanted to smack him, but sweat poured from his head despite the cool air. Something felt wrong. He needed the light's comfort.
"Where's my crystal, Tom?"
Tom tilted his head slightly, then smiled—a cold expression Jerry had never seen on him before. Tom raised his hand quickly as if to strike, and Jerry flinched backward.
Closing his eyes and bracing for the blow, Jerry felt nothing. When he looked up, he saw a fist near his face that slowly opened into a palm. There it was—still shining with light but with a crack of darkness running through its center. The crystal.
Jerry wanted to ask what had happened but just took it instead.
"UH, YEAH. I TOLD YOU TO STAY PUT. WE'RE GOING TO RIDE AHEAD."
Jerry was still a commander and couldn't let the mercenaries think he was weak. He would deal with Tom later.
As they left, scouting around and heading toward the nearest cave while trying to avoid the strange-looking plants, Jerry wondered if it had always been like this. He'd thought rot and decay only left death, not this strangeness.
Not liking how everything felt off—this day was already cursed—he ordered the men to advance while he hung back, worried that something felt very wrong.
As his men got closer to the cave, Jerry almost burst out laughing. No—he did laugh. It was just a little goblin casually facing twelve armed mercenaries who killed for money, and the creature was giving them a speech.
"It's not too late to kneel and offer thanks for his mercy. He shall grant it," the goblin said with a smile, watching them all as if truly offering grace. "He loves all who embrace him."
Everyone froze at the goblin's perfect human speech, then as one, they laughed at his presumption.
"The dumb fuck thinks since he can talk like a person, he's some kind of king now," one mercenary said.
"WEAR YOUR CROWN, O KING OF SHIT!" another joined in.
The goblin had been smiling but now frowned. "I am no king. I serve a lord, and you are now mocking his mercy."
Another man, feeling emboldened, chimed in: "Think their king is fatter than this one?"
"Has to be. Maybe it was less ugly, so they crowned it!" a different mercenary responded.
"If that's all it takes, you'll be their next king!" he shot back as they all laughed.
The goblin looked genuinely sad, as if about to weep. "Lost lambs you may be, but even lambs must be led to slaughter. The only lesson worth learning is what our lord teaches. He has little mercy for those who refuse to listen, so when he offers it?" A slight pause as he watched them.
"You should have listened."
The goblin extended his arms out and up as if offering himself to the sky. They continued laughing at the sight—until a creature walked over the goblin. So tall was the beast that its belly didn't even brush the goblin's head as it passed above him.
The creature had a pure black coat, six legs, many red-glowing eyes, teeth like sword blades, and multiple tails writhing like tentacles at its back, making them impossible to count.
Jerry recognized death when he saw it. He also recognized a desperate situation that only fools would charge into blindly.
"WE'VE GOT ONE CHANCE, YOU FUCKS! RUSH AS ONE AND KILL IT!"
Whether they were brave or simply trusted his command, they all swarmed the beast, swinging blades and trying to hack its legs—two men per leg, thinking themselves clever as they surrounded the creature. The goblin remained underneath, observing the scene with detached interest.
Emboldened by bloodlust, one mercenary swung at the seemingly defenseless goblin, then stared in confusion at where his hand used to be.
He noticed the tentacles were no longer moving randomly but were systematically taking pieces from all the men around the beast.
Jerry never heard anyone scream. It was happening so fast that none could register they were missing parts before being struck again. When they finally noticed and tried to scream, they were already dead—killed with clinical indifference. None understood how they died, each perishing mid-thought between the first strike and the last.
Jerry came closest to understanding it all as he watched, but only in the brief moment before fleeing. He never learned their complete fate, mounting his horse and riding hard before the echo of shouting the attack order truly settled within the land.
When Jerry returned to camp, he gathered the gold—no point leaving it for dead fools—and was tempted to abandon Tom. But he couldn't risk a different story being told if Tom survived, so he rushed to tell him they had to leave immediately.
But something felt wrong about the camp when he finally stopped panicking long enough to think clearly. A voice spoke behind him.
"You were given a choice."
Jerry spun around as a hand grabbed his throat, lifting him into the air. Tom wasn't taller than him—how was he raising Jerry so high? Jerry felt himself lifted three feet, then four, held by an unnaturally extended arm.
Tom watched him with complete indifference before finishing his thought. "Words are wasted on you, but the flame of your soul—that my lord will use well."
As darkness slowly consumed Jerry to nothing, he never got the chance to scream or beg for mercy.
An eerie quiet fell over the abandoned camp. Tom looked back toward the distant city, knowing he needed to spread his lord's will there.
And he set off to do exactly that.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6x64Onm4fQ
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