BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

TATATATATA! TATATATATA!

Skreeee!

Crack!

Disorienting chaos has filled the landing zone that was held by Grendel Six as a staging area for their expedition to investigate how to defeat Kernuules. Instead, the Devil of the Wood was able to spring up in their midst and destroy their shuttle, stranding the elite goblin troop far away from the Citadel.

Field Marshal Klur, the commanding officer of Grendel Six, has moved Floria to cover behind one of the wrecked pieces of the shuttle. During the surprise attack, Kernuules impaled the combat medic after taking over Feno’xion’s golem body. She’s lifeless at the moment, meaning Klur has to make a decision. He’s not experienced at all in first aid, other than extreme basics like stopping bleeding, and for serious impalement, not to remove it because it blocks some of the bleeding.

Klur sets his void bag on the ground. He hesitates for only a moment as explosions rumble around him. The goblins are throwing grenades, and Kernuules is launching projectiles of wood in return. It hasn’t moved much, but Klur doubts the devil is bound to the spot.

Klur looks at his trusted comrade, unmoving and silent.

Being put into a void bag is a mysterious state to be in, and any number of things can go wrong to where even Alkus Gristak would be preferable to the unknown fate that would come.

But, he doesn’t have the means to save Floria, if she can be saved as it is.

He shakes his head clear and activates the bag, storing the combat medic inside. As long as he survives and can retrieve her, she’ll forgive him. There are rumors that Shek and Skloe were put into void bags by Daniel when they first met, and they are among his beloved consorts now.

With Floria secured in the void bag, Klur can focus on the battle and try to make sure his troops are able to return home.

They need to get to the anti-magic plates. It’s the only thing that will let them stop Kernuules in the short term, and longer term, allow them to flee away from the attack zone.

Klur starts to jog towards the lead crates. Two of the three are crushed underneath the shuttle’s fuselage, meaning there’s almost no chance they’ll be able to retrieve it before everyone is wiped out.

That leaves the last one, which has fallen at an angle that puts the bulk of the weight of the large container on its lid. Lifting the lids alone requires four goblins, typically, and the body of the crate is even heavier.

Two other goblins have reached the crate, and they strain to try to get it cracked open even a little. Just opening the crate should be enough.

Kernuules cracks a long, vine-like whip in a sweeping arc, forcing several goblins to dive to the ground, and two more are hit by the whip, flying through the air as they cry out.

The fiendish monster pivots as it reels in its improvised whip. Even in the afternoon daylight, it looks positively sinister, like it could absorb the light into every crack and pit of its bark. Smoke rolls off of it where burning shrapnel and heated bullets smolder and sear its timber shell.

Klur notices it before the two goblins trying to open the crate. Kernuules turns its gaze to look directly at them. However the archfiend knows about it, it is fully aware of the consequences of the crates being opened.

“Get down!” shouts Klur. “Bantar! Poknud!”

Bantar manages to look at Klur, and then at Kernuules. Thinking quickly, the elder of the two goblins shoves Poknud away as hard as he can, toppling the young goblin to the dirt as a relatively massive figure sails in and slams down on the crate.

Kernuules doesn’t have solid wings the way dragons or wyverns do, but they clearly have enough surface area and strength to propel the ghoul forward with frightening speed.

Immediately upon pouncing down on the lead crate, Kernuules slams its hand down on Bantar, crushing him into the ground with a single cough-like wheeze.

The archfiend keeps its foot on the crate, but tree-root-like appendages grow rapidly out and down towards the ground, anchoring the last hope the goblins have for defeating the beast to the ground.

Kernuules roars, sending another shockwave through the air that flinches the goblins still in the fight.

Damn it! What do we do now!?

Klur glances at Bantar. He’s showing no signs of life, and the archfiend is in no hurry to release him.

While he’s looking, though, the Grey Mantle notices a somewhat unnatural white color peeking out of the bark of Kernuules’s forearm just above where the beast has Bantar pinned down.

The symbol! If I destroy it, it has to die, right?

Klur knows very little about magic. He has many things he will pledge to learn following this battle.

First aid. Magic. Strategy. I swear I will learn all of it. Please, Yaava. Hear this prayer.

Field Marshal Klur exhales to shed all of his emotions and frustrations and fears. He grips the handle of the revolver tightly.

Then, the goblin raises his eyes and locks on to the small sheet of note paper.

Just one shot. One single hit. That’s all I have to do. Even a dumgob could do that much.

Klur sprints forward. His boots crackle leaves and twigs during his full speed charge.

There was a time he fought without boots, feeling every prick and prod of sticks and stones.

A flash explodes against Kernuules, sending shrapnel and splinters shrieking through the air. They claw and bite at the goblin’s ears, but deflect harmlessly off of his helmet.

There was a time he fought without a helmet, coughing on dirt and being blinded by shrapnel from exploding spells.

Klur grits his sharp teeth, biting into his own gums.

Yes, pain. Pain is bad, but it is a sign of life. And, it’s right there. My target is so close now.

The archfiend notices Klur sprinting at it, and it sweeps its hand. The goblin ducks his left shoulder forward, shielding his right arm. He needs his right hand to be safe and protected, so that he can bring the Lifestealer’s might down upon the archfiend.

Shards of timber as large as the goblin’s legs spear into the ground in a massive scatter blast. Klur stumbles as one of the shards deflects off of his left shoulder, and he yelps when pain shoots through his whole back and left arm. Even his neck is sore.

His right foot lands on the ground, and he nearly blacks out, the instant dragging out as his soul wavers. His vision blurs, and he can feel his weight starting to shift, even as slow as everything seems to be moving.

Klur growls as he grits his teeth even tighter, tasting his own blood in his mouth. At the cusp of losing his balance and failing his mission, the surge of self-induced pain and the taste of blood helps him snap out of the instantaneous daze. The warrior of Grendel Six centers his strength, keeping his footing instead of losing everything.

Klur lunges left in a sideways leap, narrowly avoiding a follow-up diagonal clap of the whip as it slashes down across where Klur just was, swinging wide away from him.

So close… So close… So close…

“Scatter apart, fiend!” yells the goblin as he leaps forward, reaching for Kernuules’s arm, which still hasn’t moved from Bantar.

The archfiend doesn’t cooperate, though.

A branch suddenly appears on the archfiend’s forearm, snatching Klur’s left wrist and dangling him in the air. Its grip pierces and crushes in on his wrist, causing the goblin to scream in pain.

The Devil of the Wood dangles the flailing goblin by his arm, holding him up and looking directly in his eyes, as if taunting the Field Marshal to fire straight into the monster’s eerie, bark-shelled face.

Klur almost falls for it.

His brain wants to fight off the ghoul, to flail and kick and fire the revolver until it releases him.

But, I cannot miss my real target!

He tries to search as pain and tears cloud his vision once more, looking for that small white spot.

Unfortunately, he can feel something even more sinister.

It’s not easy for him to describe, since he is so limited in knowledge and vocabulary, but the closest he can get is thousands of tiny insects crawling into the inside of his arm, under his skin. It’s not quite like being burned, as it’s not quite painful on its own. Of course, given the searing pain already in his arm, the goblin might not be able to tell new pain from old.

But, just because he’s a goblin does not mean he’s a fool.

Something is being done to him by the fiend, and the fact that it held Floria and Bantar for so long have to be clues. He can barely ponder anything, since he’s mainly trying to pull his hand free in futility, but a part of his brain knows he’s already bound to the tree devil the way it captured the lead container.

Klur looks up towards the sky, losing his strength and his focus to pain as he wants to rip his arm off if it’ll only dull the pain a little.

His pupils snap focus, and he can see the clouds starting to take on the first touches of sunset in the waning afternoon.

That’s it!

Klur is a goblin. He doesn’t think that far ahead. It’s in his nature to react to what he sees, and claim victory as efficiently as possible.

The goblin summons his strength to heft the revolver up, aiming it precisely. He won’t have time to waste a shot, as he’ll only likely have enough time to fire twice exactly.

He’ll also have to push through the unimaginable pain and stay conscious long enough to succeed.

Or, he’ll just do it and realize how stupid he is if he survives.

The goblin pulls the trigger before Kernuules can figure out what he’s doing. The revolver nearly flies from his hand as unstoppable death explodes forth from its muzzle…

And that otherworldly magic is directed straight into Klur’s left bicep.

Lifestealers are very big guns in their class of ‘pistols’, because Daniel wanted a secondary weapon capable of fending off large animals and virtually any humanoid individuals, while the Dragonslayer was created for its namesake.

Klur has seen what a Lifestealer is capable of, and Floria and Locke described the aftermath of his use of the weapon in the Citadel.

A weapon that can separate a goblin’s torso will have no issues with his arm.

As such, Klur drops unceremoniously to the ground with a ‘thud’ as he lands on his back, coughing up blood. There is a ringing in his ears that drowns out all other sound other than his own heartbeat. He doesn’t have the strength or breath to scream, and he’s a little glad for it.

He is able to feel the revolver’s grip in his hand, even though pain is drowning his mind, and he can tell it’s only fading because he’s dying. His own blood is raining down on him as he looks up at his own arm, far beyond his own arm’s reach as Kernuules cocks its head.

“Soon enough… I’ll wield the Chains… you… bas-...”

He coughs up blood, swinging his right arm up over his torso as he sits up, surging all of his strength with a primal yell. He can feel his last moments sweeping up on him.

Klur’s eyes feel like they’re swimming, but he can see it; the distinct white that stands out in all of the brown, black, green, blue, and red.

BOOM!

The revolver summons the god of thunder once more, sending iron death forward. The bullet pierces through its target, and because of the close range, the embers of the muzzle blast spraying forward ignite the remaining paper.

Kernuules roars in rage as it stumbles back a step. It is still rooted to the lead container, but it is very much upset by the paper being burned.

Movement catches the goblin’s eye to his left while he’s trying to watch to see if the archfiend is actually dying or just in pain.

Horror manages to pull Klur back from the brink just a little longer.

Bantar is sitting up seemingly effortlessly, climbing to his feet.

Blood is still dripping from the goblin’s armor, forced out of his body as it was crushed by the relative giant. Kernuules may not be its full size, but it is still much larger than any of the goblins, or even most of the other tall races.

Bantar shouldn’t be alive, let alone able to sit up if some miracle kept him breathing.

Were Klur not there the day Kernuules first appeared, he might believe in miracles.

Knowing what he knows, on the other hand, it is nothing short of a curse.

Bantar’s movements are unnatural and animalistic as his body flexes and straightens out, as if it’s realigning broken bones to be at least aligned correctly, if it’s not simply healing.

Klur’s instincts crawl, and fear grips him.

If he does nothing, his allies will be in danger.

The armor the goblins are wearing protect them well, but it also hides their faces. He’s not sure what face Bantar is making, or rather, what face is being made by the body that once belonged to Bantar, but he knows it is not one of urgency to save his comrades.

If it was, he might draw his sidearm.

Instead, the mysteriously revived goblin scans the area, not paying Kernuules any mind at all.

When it looks at Klur, it twitches slightly.

It is looking down the barrel of a Lifestealer.

If I don’t do this… Someone will die. Someone else.

“I’m… sorry…” grunts out Klur.

A haunting voice comes out of Bantar’s helmet, but it sounds sincere, even if it’s distorted. “Me… too… Boss…rrraaaaaah! D-Do it Boss! Fire!”

Bantar’s body shakes like a possessed vassal, and it starts to step towards Klur.

BOOM!

The revolver fires, and the cursed goblin screams one last time as his body is rent in two by the point-blank hand cannon shot. This time, the revolver does leave Klur’s hand, and he can only watch as his vision closes in on the horrifying sight of his own comrade that he just executed.

Even if it was no longer his comrade, the body belonged to a member of Grendel Six.

Looks like I’ll be joining you soon, Bantar. Forgive me… I pray… Yaava looks after the others.

***

Hap watches in horror as a Lifestealer wielded by their fearless leader claims the life of one of his own brothers in arms.

Field Marshal Klur just executed Bantar after briefly driving Kernuules off balance.

But, Hap saw it all. Klur has fought as bravely as ever, and Bantar was crushed. Even just being batted across the ground nearly knocked Hap unconscious, even with his armor. His chest is bruised, and he’s pretty sure part of his ear has been torn off during his tumble.

Klur, in his last moments of strength, had to kill the body of one of his comrades because of the archfiend.

The cursed beast that wields unimaginable and evil magic.

Grendel Six already faced off against possessed beasts, but they were all creatures of nature, not people.

That certainly doesn’t mean people, especially goblins, are immune to being corrupted by Koggus Gristak.

The whole thing is sickening, but they’re still in battle.

If Hap can survive the air attack and keep fighting as a member of Grendel Six, he can survive a ground battle. Otherwise, he isn’t worthy of the Feldrok Grin on his helmet.

Hap glances around. Some of the goblins are still fighting, firing weapons at Koggus Gristak. It has recovered its senses, mostly ignoring the submachine gun fire. None of their weapons can really harm it, but it can distract the archfiend briefly.

That’s when Hap spots it. The wreckage of the shuttle is all over the field, and equipment is scattered around. But, perhaps miraculously unharmed in the troop bay is a .50 caliber machine gun.

Sure, the shuttle is upside down, but Hap is a young goblin.

And, he knows exactly what he can do with the heavy armor piercing repeater.

Hap sprints for the shuttle. Too many of his comrades have fallen. If they can be saved, time is of the essence. Mosko has already run to Klur and dragged him back out of sight of the archfiend.

Koggus Gristak realized that there is something in the lead crates and is guarding them ferociously.

What he doesn’t care about are the firearms, and it seems he is engaging in a simple battle of attrition. This time, he sends his roots through the ground, and the goblins still fighting scatter to avoid the subterranean attacks spearing upwards. Someone screams in pain, and Hap clenches his fists as he dashes into the shuttle. The wreckage being in several pieces makes it easy for him to get into the troop bay, but now he has to get up to the machine gun itself, which is now above him.

Thankfully, he’s pretty sure his bones aren’t broken, so the young goblin scrambles up the wall, acrobatically reaching over to the machine gun and shimmying along its length until he can get to its feedway cover. He unlatches it, all the while hanging from the weapon like the branch of a tree. From there, he climbs to the wall again to get the one ammo can still attached to the magnetic locking pad. He can’t bother with trying to move it closer to the gun itself, so he opens the can. He strains to keep the weight of the ammo belt on his shoulder, and he carefully climbs back to the weapon. He flinches when something outside explodes, though it’s likely the last of the grenades the goblins carry. No one has found the rocket launchers yet, assuming they even survived the destruction, so the best thing Hap can do is something he has at least a little faith in.

It takes some careful movements, but the young goblin manages to hang by his legs from the machine gun as he feeds the ammo belt in and closes the cover. He cycles the bolt, and the machine gun is loaded. He doesn’t know if it’ll be able to feed the belt properly with most of the weight tangled around Hap’s shoulders, but he’ll have to try. He carefully climbs to the handles again, tying himself in by hooking the cables on the machine gun to his belt. It’s far from ideal, but he needs to be able to focus.

Now ‘standing’ upside down, Hap uses the machine gun as his leverage point so he can turn it. He has to hook his toes under the struts of the machine gun so he can pull ‘down’ on the gun to lower its barrel and aim at Kernuules, who is slowly growing larger and larger, by the looks of it.

Sweat drips down Hap’s head and onto his eye shields. He needs his vision, so he quickly uses his left hand to unbuckle and shed his helmet, dropping it to the ceiling of the shuttle below him.

The young goblin aims again, taking a deep breath. As soon as Kernuules realizes what is happening, he’ll have seconds at most, which means every shot counts.

The goblin zeroes in on his target. He flips the safety. The young soldier exhales as calmly as he can.

Boom boom boom boom boom!

Fire and smoke explode out of the barrel of the machine gun, and he can feel it pulling the bullets into the feedway, firing continuously when he squeezes the trigger.

Boom boom boom boom boom-ksheew!

Hap flinches when a golden streak rips past him from ricocheting off of the lead crate. Each shot streaks off in random directions after hitting the box, and one reflected past his head. It’s not like he could actually dodge it, but he moved on reflex.

Come on! Keep firing! Even if you’re hit!

Boom boom boom boom boom!

At least one of the bullets obliterates some of the roots Koggus Gristak is using to keep control of the box, and it roars, rearing its arm back to attack.

Hap doesn’t yield. He keeps firing in quick five round bursts to give himself time to try to increase his chances of hitting his mark.

The young Grendel Six rookie can feel fear streak through him like lightning, but he grips the trigger as hard as he can and does his best to keep the machine gun firing as he closes his eyes. He knows he shouldn’t, but he doesn’t want to see the spear-like arm of timber rocketing towards him.

When the machine gun stops firing with a final, resolute ‘clunk!’, Hap still can’t let go of the trigger, bracing for death as he waits with his eyes closed.

There is a faint creaking and cracking like tree branches in the woods shifting with the wind.

When Hap can finally open his eyes, he flinches in fear.

At the end of the machine gun’s barrel is the arm of lumber, but it isn’t moving. The young goblin notices movement, and it’s the few goblins still able to move on their own drawing closer. One of them throws a rock at the archfiend, which feels profoundly stupid to Hap, but he’s also curious.

There is no response.

The Devil of the Wood that was effortlessly defeating the goblins of Grendel Six is now completely idle, like a statue. And, to top it off, the wood that makes up its body seems to be slowly rotting away right before all of their eyes.

Hap releases his uncomfortable posture, hanging from the cables as he sighs.

Unfortunately, they’re not in the clear yet.

“We got wounded!”

“Gather everyone at the center!”

“Anyone skilled at firsaid! We need help!”

Hap snaps out of his relief and quickly detaches from the machine gun. He would drop, but there’s so much debris, he’ll only injure himself and become a casualty.

He climbs down quickly and jogs outside, regrouping with everyone else.

“I’m here! First Aid!” Hap all but dives into the growing crowd to help tourniquet, bandage, and stitch wounds as others bring the wounded to the triage area in the center.

Just about everyone has a wound, bruise, cut, or other injury, but the ones who can are powering through to help their comrades.

“Where’s Floria!?” shouts someone.

“She was at center! Dead!”

“Cheeeaga!” shouts another in frustration.

Mosko perks up. “Store life threatened in void bags! Now!”

“What!?” shouts Poknud in reply.

“You heard me! It’s their only chance! Do it now!”

Hap doesn’t like it. No goblin does. Many believe one’s soul ceases to exist in a void bag.

However, their comrades are on the brink of death already. It can’t get much worse.

Grendel Six works together to store those whose injuries are too grave to be treated on the spot. Mosko already put a tourniquet on Klur, but it’s probable that the Grendel Six Leader is in dire straits as it is.

GRRRROOOOOOOOAAAARRRR-HWOOOOM!

The leading edge of a roar’s sound reaches the goblins before a powerful gust slams past them with a defining whoosh. Even the trees cower before the might of the creature that produced the sound.

Or, rather than a creature, a seemingly unstoppable devil.

Hap’s ears are ringing afterwards, and many of the others are struggling.

“I no do this!” cries out Urm as he scrambles to his feet and flees to the east.

“Urm!” calls out one of the others.

Mosko urges, “Quickly! Gather all the wounded! No time to treat! Must run!”

A few of the wounded goblins who can’t flee on their own panic as the others quickly start stowing them in void bags as well.

Hap feels sick, and his own hands are trembling.

Suddenly, a hand lands on his; it’s Klur, and he chokes out, “Hap, help Klur… to feet…”

“Boss!?” yelps the young goblin.

“I… will buy time…”

Hap doesn’t know what he could possibly mean by that, but he helps Klur to his feet as the thundering booms of a giant crashing through the forest from the distance reaches the goblins. Kernuules is coming, but by the sounds of it, he had to spawn in at a further away location than the ritual site they spent the day digging up. Powerful or not, Koggus Gristak is still weak to the mighty power of Daniel’s anti-magic stones and metals.

“Field Marshal?” “The Field Marshal!” exclaims some of the goblins.

“I order full retreat!” declares the goblin Field Marshal.

“What are you going to do?” asks Hap, sensing something stupid coming from the leader of Grendel Six.

Klur cycles through his own magic bag, finding a small lead canister. It’s a box of three bullets, but only to be carried by high ranking officers and used when needed.

And, they only go in the rifles that Locke and Olk couldn’t retrieve.

Klur flips the case open, revealing the yellow and purple tips of the rifle bullets, which denotes them as anti-magic projectiles. They are meant to pierce barriers and other magical defenses.

The Field Marshal lifts the case to his mouth, pulling all three of the shells into his mouth with his tongue, holding them in his teeth like bones as he tosses the lead canister aside. He hands the void bag to Hap.

With every second that passes, the stomping and crashing of trees grows ever closer.

“Floeeuh in nair. Geh doo sae-ee. {Floria in there. Get to safety.}” grunts the Commanding Officer.

“What are you planning!?” shouts Mosko.

“No ime,” replies Klur. He takes one of the bullets out of his mouth and carries it in his hand like a short knife. “I wih deeyay. Go!” He starts jogging as quickly as his weary body can move towards the approaching behemoth. Most of the soldiers have already retreated with their comrades stored in magic bags, carrying only what they have on them. Some have even shed their armor and helmets to reduce the weight.

Hap, Mosko, Locke, and Olk watch him. None of them are in any better shape than their leader, who is down an arm and fearlessly limp-jogging towards an unbeatable titan. It’s hard to say what the area of effect for the anti-magic plates is with only a hole through the crate allowing the effect out, but it’s the closest thing to ‘safe’ they have.

But, Kernuules can throw entire trees and fire spears of wood at his enemies.

Locke stands up, handing his void bag to Hap as well. “W-Wait! Locke!”

The goblin scenthunter jogs after the Field Marshal, quickly dipping under the commander’s arm to help support his weight. Klur looks at him, but says nothing.

Olk groans, throwing his helmet off of his head as he jogs after them. He tosses his void bag at Hap as well. Once he catches up to the other two, he takes one of the bullets from Klur, ready to join him in his suicide mission.

Hap starts to follow them, but he is halted forcibly by a grip on his collar. A third additional void bag is shoved into his arms as Mosko looks into the young goblin’s eyes.

Mosko speaks in Gruu’yen, which is the easiest way for goblins to be sure they’re understood by other goblins as the mother language of all of the dialects goblins speak. “[A boy should know shine before he himself can shine.]”

Goblins aren’t generally parental or filial. Even in social goblin settlements, children are considered workers as soon as they can dig, forage, and in rare situations, farm. Hap was one such goblin even before the Fievegal, and the phrase Mosko just said is one that he heard many times as a child.

He never knew what it meant until this exact moment. He always thought the adults were just telling him to stay out of the way and not try to take what belongs to them, not least of which was the best food, most comfortable materials, and the women coming of age.

Instead, Mosko is telling him to wait until he has known more of those things before sacrificing himself in a glorious end.

“M-Mosko…”

“Go, boy.” Mosko forcibly turns Hap away from the forest. “When you are stronger and wiser, you may avenge us.”

“Please don’t! W-We should all-...!”

“You’re in the best shape. Take our allies to safety. Don’t waste any more time or our lives will be wasted.” He shoves Hap into a stumble towards the east, and the elder goblin then jogs after the first three. He scoops up a Lifestealer, reloading it as he does his best to catch up to the trio.

Hap’s eyes water as he watches them. Damn it! Why!? Why can’t I…

Knowing he has a responsibility now, the young goblin retreats to the east.

It’s the most difficult thing he has ever had to do.

After so long as nothing more than a ‘mere goblin’, he finally has something goblins rarely ever get to experience.

He has brothers and sisters in arms. They are his family.

Hap is no longer a ‘mere goblin’.

Ever since he volunteered, the young goblin is a member of the elite family known as Grendel Six.

And, in order to save many, he has to turn his back on some of the bravest people he has ever known.

***

A/N: Hey Dear readers! If you've read this chapter at the exact moment it drops, two more bonus chapters are scheduled for 15 minutes after this one, so I hope you'll enjoy!

Thank you all for supporting me this far!