Running around

The goblin was afraid.

Fear was the constant drumbeat of his existence in this dark, dangerous place. He feared the tall humans, wrapped in shiny metal skins that clanged and clinked as they moved. They carried sharp pointy things—swords, though the goblin did not know the word—and spoke in gibberish sounds he couldn't understand. Their eyes were cold, and calculating, and every so often, they would lash out with their shiny sticks, leaving death and blood in their wake.

He was also afraid of the green ones, those like him but not like him. They looked similar—short, hunched, with long, clawed fingers and skin like the moss on the dungeon walls—but they were driven by something mindless, a deep-rooted instinct to kill. The goblin knew them well; they were like animals, no thoughts in their heads except for tearing throats and snapping bones. 

But most of all, he feared the furry ones. The furry ones with sharp claws and teeth that could smell his scent from two caves away. They hunted him, their growls echoing through the stone corridors, their steps quick and silent.

Three times he had been chased by a pack of them on the third floor, and three times he had barely escaped with his life. Each time, he had only survived because the furry ones had caught a whiff of human scent and had scampered off, distracted by fresher prey.

The goblin could try to flee to another floor, but that too was fraught with danger. The first two floors were always teeming with humans, their numbers so great it was easy to become trapped, boxed in between their ranks with no way out.

The fourth floor was no better; it was home to the one-eyed ones with pointy tongues. He had seen what they could do, the way their tongues shot out like spears, piercing flesh with terrifying ease. He didn't know if he could survive a fight with them.

Yes, the goblin was afraid. But he was also… excited. Thrilled, even. Yesterday, he had managed to steal a short pointy metal—a dagger, but he didn't know that either—from a human who had carelessly dropped it. It was a good tool, sturdy and sharp, and he could feel its weight in his hands, heavy and solid.

He gripped the metal thing tighter as he spotted a pair of furry ones prowling nearby. His heart raced, his blood pounded in his ears, but he didn't flinch. He didn't run. He waited, watching as they drew closer, their sharp teeth bared in a snarl. When they lunged, he was ready.

He sidestepped the first, its claws swiping through the air where his head had been a moment before. The second furry one was right behind it, lunging for his back, but he twisted away, letting them collide with a satisfying thud.

Before they could recover, he darted in, jabbing his pointy metal into the exposed neck of the first furry one. It let out a strangled yelp, its body convulsing as blood spurted from the wound. The second tried to claw at him, but he ducked low, driving the metal into its side. The fight was over in seconds, the furry ones collapsing in a heap, their lifeblood pooling around them in dark, glistening rivulets.

Seeing his enemies—those who would have torn him to shreds without hesitation—lying crumpled and dying at his feet did wonders to diminish his fear.

He felt… powerful. Strong.

With swift, practiced motions, he cut into the corpses of the furry ones, prying them open to find the shiny stones inside. He crunched them between his teeth, savoring the bitter taste as he swallowed. Almost immediately, he felt a surge of energy, a rush of warmth spreading through his limbs. His wounds closed up, his strength returned, and he felt… more.

More than he was before.

This was how he lived in this hostile place. Eating the stones of the fallen gave him power, gave him the strength he needed to keep moving, to keep fighting.

He couldn't help but curl his lips upwards in a grim smile, imitating the expression he had seen the Monster make when it fought a horde of dozens. Things were looking up.

"How's it going, Golbin?"

The sound of speech, clear and unmistakable, came from right behind him. The goblin froze, his blood turning to ice in his veins. He spun around, instincts taking over, his arm lashing out with the pointy metal thing, aiming for the source of the voice.

But his eyes widened in disbelief as the blade, which had shattered the teeth of the furry ones, snapped in two against the hide of the Monster standing before him. The blade didn't even leave a scratch. The goblin looked up, his gaze trailing over the terribly scarred body.

He recognized the Monster who had spared his life. The one who moved like smoke, who fought like a beast, the one who devoured. The fear that gripped the goblin now was unlike any he had ever felt. It was deeper, colder, a terror that wrapped around his heart and squeezed.

As he stared into the Monster's eyes, Golbin understood, that some fears were far greater than others.

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"So, I will lay down over there, and I will not move for some time. Kill weaklings. Make noise if danger and run away," I explained patiently to the little guy. The dumbass kept on shivering like a leaf in a storm. It was almost pitiful. Almost.

This was a good test, I thought. If he couldn't follow such simple instructions, then he didn't deserve to live. It was that simple. I was still curious if a Xenos would be counted as a different species by my Hunger.

I tossed him a small dagger that the dwarf had used for carving out magic stones. It wasn't much, but it was better than the rusty piece of scrap he'd been using. At least this one wouldn't break the first time he tried to stab something with it.

The fact that he couldn't really pierce my skin with his strength made him useful, like a living alarm clock.

I found a nice flat spot on the stone floor and lay down, closing my eyes. The cold rock pressed against my back, but I didn't mind, it was more silent than Babel's bottom floor.

I kept my senses sharp, listening for any sounds of struggle or danger, but all I heard was the soft shuffling of Golbin's feet as he moved around, as was to be expected from the third floor. A side effect of not exiting would be that I would lose track of time, but I could deal. The little guy seemed to be doing his job well enough though, at least for now.

I stayed awake a while longer, watching him out of the corner of my eye. He was clumsy, no doubt about it, but there was a certain determination in his movements. Golbin ganked a kobold that wandered too close, and it went down with a pitiful whimper. Not bad. Not good, but not bad either.

Once I was satisfied that he could handle himself, at least against the weaker monsters, I allowed myself to drift off. Sleep came easily, like a warm, suffocating blanket.

If a human came around, chances were Golbin would be noisy enough to wake me up.

And if he wasn't? Well, I'd deal with that if it came to it.

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-Soul Meditation (3/20)

-Combat (4/20) 

-Stealth (1/20)