Wut?

Golbin felt lost.

The caverns, usually alive with a warmth he couldn't quite name, felt hollow, as if the very walls had begun whispering against his presence, willing his end. It was wrong, all wrong. As long as he could remember, the stone had been a comfort, a silent companion in the dark. Now, the silence was no longer gentle; it was frigid, like a hand turned cold.

He ducked beneath the swipe of one of the red-skinned creatures—the ones the Man called "Imps." His steel blade found purchase in its skull, and the creature's screech died, a brief flash of light vanishing from its eyes. Another Imp lunged, claws raised, and Golbin danced back, evading, his heart thrumming a wild rhythm that drowned out his confusion.

Battle was simple. Battle, at least, made sense. It was the one thing he understood—the quick beat of his chest, the burn of his muscles, the way the steel felt right in his hand, heavy yet alive. In that rush, the strange unease faded, replaced by the satisfaction of knowing that, in this moment, he was still alive.

A scream, high and unnatural, echoed from above. Golbin glanced back, seeing the hulking form of one of the Big Fat Greens, its massive club slamming into the ground, the impact making the earth shiver beneath his feet. Shadows flitted overhead, wings beating like thunder as the flying things circled. He did not turn to face them. The Man's orders were clear—Imps were his only concern. Everything else was for the Man to handle.

Golbin feared the Big Fat Greens, feared the shadows above, with claws and teeth that could shred flesh from bone. But he feared the Man more. 

Even now, Golbin remembered. He remembered the maw of nothingness, the light of death...and how he was pulled out if it by the Man before he dissipated. 

It was different, this time. Not the clean, quick end he had known in countless short lives as a mindless green one. No, this had been deeper, colder. It had etched itself into him, a scar he couldn't scratch, and even now, his hand twitched, longing to dig into the scar on his chest where the weird symbols were.

But he kept his grip on the steel. He'd learned well enough that distractions meant death. He still recalled how losing focus had once cost him his hand, and then his life.

So he slashed, and the steel carved paths through red flesh, the Imps falling one by one, their screams swallowed by the dark. They moved in packs, their eyes glinting with malice, their claws sharp. But their blood ran all the same, warm against his skin. One, two, twenty—he lost count. They came at him like a tide, drawn to him by some unseen pull, but he cut them down until there was nothing left but silence and the scent of iron hanging heavy in the air.

When it was over, he turned to see the Man, knee-deep in the dead, digging through the bodies. Golbin heard the crunch of stones, the way the Man fed, consuming what lay within.

 His own stomach ached, a reminder of the hunger that gnawed at him as well. He watched for a moment, then turned to his own task, finding stones among the corpses and bringing them to his mouth. The taste of earth and magic filled him, the stones crumbling under his teeth.

"Sit."

The Man's voice was a command that brooked no argument, and Golbin obeyed, folding himself onto the cold ground. The chill seeped through him, but there was no choice. There has never been a choice. 

His eyes wandered to the Man's armor, wondering if it was steel. His gaze drifted higher, to the face obscured by the dark mask. That wasn't steel.

"I will share with you the most important knowledge you will ever hear," the Man said. "So pay attention."

Golbin's mind, usually shrouded in a fog he couldn't shake, cleared. The Man's words were like claws scratching away the haze. He remembered the story the Man had told him before—of an endless mountain, of paths winding up to places he couldn't imagine. The words had stuck in his mind, deep and unyielding, even if their meaning remained a mystery.

"It's not a complicated concept," the Man continued. "Everyone wants something."

Golbin remained silent. The words felt too simple, their weight too light to carry any meaning. But he did not speak. He'd knew that much—when the Man spoke, one listened.

"Some want strength, so they pursue it. Some want companions, and they chase them. Some want food, others treasure. Some want to seem important, and some want to be free. Others simply want to sleep all day. And then there are those who want to destroy everything they see."

Golbin tried to understand, tried to grasp the meaning behind the Man's words. It felt close, almost within reach, but still distant, like a memory fading before he could clutch it.

"What do you think was the desire of the adventurers who killed you?"

A question. Golbin's mind stalled. The Man had never asked him a question before, and he felt the weight of it press against him. He wanted to answer, to do well, but his voice came out shaky.

"To kill me?"

The Man's voice did not waver. "In part, but no. Those adventurers desired shiny things—the stones within each monster."

Golbin's eyes brightened. The shiny stones, yes, those he understood. The answer felt right, and he liked the feeling of understanding.

"Every being has different desires, and each moves in accordance with them. Say I desire strength, and someone else desires to stop me from achieving that strength. What happens next?"

Golbin thought, the answer surfacing in his mind. "Kill?"

"Indeed. We will try to kill, beat, or intimidate each other—all to eliminate the threat to our desires. Now, say I want to protect a shiny rock, and someone else wants to destroy it…"

"KILL!" Golbin's voice rose, triumphant. He felt a swell of pride, having answered before the Man could even finish.

"Good, you catch on fast. But how about this: I want to grow strong, and someone else wants the same. What happens?"

Golbin hesitated. "Kill?" The word felt uncertain now, hanging between them.

The Man shook his head. "Not all desires oppose each other. Some align. You grew strong in the past days, and I did the same. We did not have to fight."

Golbin's head tilted, confusion knitting his brow. The concept felt slippery, like water running through his fingers.

"Is this why… you took me with you?" he asked, the question tumbling out before he could stop it.

The Man laughed—a sound that usually signaled bloodshed. But this laugh was different, softer. Golbin felt the tension in his shoulders ease.

"Indeed. You have been and will be useful to me, but this isn't the lesson I want you to remember."

Golbin straightened, feeling the weight of the Man's gaze settle on him.

"Find out what you desire, and chase it. Learn to recognize when the desires of others stand in your way."

The words sank into Golbin's mind, deep and heavy. He nodded, even as his thoughts spun.

"Now that we've covered the basics, let me tell you about the Gods and the world above the ground…"