Fool's Danger

'Shit. This is not good.'

Azrael fought with all his might, attempting to wriggle out of the tight hold the goblins had on him.

"Release me!" he pleaded, putting up a fierce struggle. "Erik, make a break for it while you still can. Once we step into that boss room, there's no getting out unless we manage to take him down."

"What? I thought you had a plan!?" Erik shouted back, wrestling with the small goblins. However, his frail old body left him at a disadvantage against their strength.

"Damn it! Damn it!" Azrael cursed. "I did have a plan, but I didn't think it through."

'How could I be so careless? Now it's too late. I have to confront the monster inside.'

The brawl raged on until they found themselves right by the towering double doors. Then, with a sly grin, the Hobgoblin casually nudged a small cutout at the bottom of the left door. With a creak that sounded like it hadn't seen oil in ages, the door swung open, unveiling a damp, musty room that looked like it hadn't seen daylight in centuries.

The stench hit them first, a putrid assault on their senses. But what they saw was more nightmarish than anything. Decayed bodies were strewn across the room, and from the depths, the unsettling sounds of gnawing and grunting echoed. The floor was a gruesome canvas, adorned with piles of organic waste—innards, feces, and who knew what else. The sight was enough to make Azrael's stomach churn, teetering on the brink of vomiting.

Yet, it wasn't just bodily remains and waste that littered the floor. Amid the gruesome scene, steel protruded from the piles—chainmails, ringmails, swords, daggers, shields, helmets, armors, and more, creating a chaotic and macabre collage of discarded weaponry and armor.

Azrael couldn't shake the feeling that even if he managed to huddle in the darkest corner of the room, he'd contract a whole new disease just from breathing the air in this place.

Deep within, a colossal figure loomed, engrossed in a gruesome feast. The darkness shrouded the creature, revealing only its piercing golden eyes. The monster's skin bore a sickly shade of red, marred by warts and boils.

The Goblin Chief's elongated ears hung low, and in the dim light, Azrael caught a glimpse of a sharp tooth glinting menacingly. The abyssal aura emanating from the creature sent shivers down Azrael's spine, making the oppressive atmosphere almost palpable.

Seated upon a towering throne, the Goblin Chief commanded the room with an air of malevolent authority. Azrael's eyes widened in horrified recognition as he beheld the throne, constructed entirely from the bones and skulls of countless creatures.

From lowly goblins to noble elves, from savage orcs to fearsome hobgoblins, the remains of humanoid beings and even animals were grotesquely fused into the macabre structure.

Azrael felt a lump form in his throat at the sight, his breath hitching in disbelief and revulsion. His instincts screamed at him to flee, to turn his back on this nightmarish scene.

This was a battle he couldn't win, a confrontation he wanted no part of. The overwhelming sense of dread weighed heavily upon him, urging him to retreat before it was too late.

The thought hit him like a brick – if his friends were in this awful place, they were probably already gone. All he could think about now was surviving. 

His body reacted instinctively, propelled by a rush of adrenaline that surged through his veins. Despite the toll of relentless, nonstop work over the past few days, exhaustion nipping at his heels, he pushed himself forward.

Laughter echoed from the goblins as they observed his struggle.

"Get me out of here! Get me out!" Azrael yelled, glancing at Erik, who remained eerily silent. His eyes widened at the sight of the elderly man, sprawled unconscious, mouth hanging open, a puddle of liquid forming beneath him.

"INSIDE!" bellowed the Hobgoblin, and the goblins lifted Azrael high off the ground.

In a final, desperate attempt to break free, Azrael thrashed and struggled against their grip. The goblins, however, held on firmly, finding amusement in his futile resistance.

"LET ME GO!" Azrael's scream echoed, his voice strained and hoarse with raw emotion.

Ignoring his pleas, the goblins swiftly tossed Azrael inside, and Erik followed with a heavy thud. The ground beneath them was wet and slimy, adding an extra layer of discomfort. To Azrael's misfortune, he found himself in nothing but his underpants, making the experience more mentally distressing than physical.

Scrambling to his feet, he desperately tried to reach the door, but his efforts proved too slow. The goblins, moving with surprising speed, slammed the door shut before Azrael could escape, leaving him trapped in the grim and unfamiliar surroundings.

"NO!" Azrael shouted, his fists pounding against the unyielding door. "Let me out! Let me out!"

The cold, unfeeling stone met his fists as he desperately tried to break free.

'Fuck!'

In his older body, he could have dismantled this beast effortlessly, like a hot knife through butter. However, this 16-year-old body was neither strong enough nor resilient enough to face the impending threat.

Turning around, Azrael confronted the Goblin Chief, who hadn't budged an inch from his imposing throne. The Goblin Chief's large, paunchy belly hung over a torn loincloth, and his lengthy arms dangled casually at his sides.

Backing up against the closed door, Azrael could feel his heart pounding in his chest, a surge of fear gripping him as he faced the ominous figure seated on the grotesque throne.

'Think, Azrael, think. What's your move now?'

The daunting size of the Goblin Chief didn't deter him. There had to be a way to defeat this creature, no matter how daunting. Azrael wasn't one to shy away from challenges, but in the face of a monstrous adversary like this, what could a human like him hope to achieve?

'A hero. I used to be a hero. If I can't take down this monstrosity, what right do I have to seek revenge?'