Chapter 24: Epiphany

I jerked awake from the light doze I had fallen into. I hadn’t meant to sleep, but the long minutes of stillness had lulled me into slumber. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed since I had dozed off, but I knew something had disturbed me.

I dropped my hands to my sheathed swords, poised to act. My eyes flew to the campfire and my tension eased as I saw that the two goblins hadn’t moved from their previous positions.

Then I frowned. The two goblins were still there, but something had changed.

A hoarse laugh floated through the air, and I realized the pair were conversing. Rising to my haunches, I crept closer.

“… why be us!”

I froze as the words reached my ears. The accent was guttural, and the words were clipped and barked. Still, they were decipherable.

I was more than a little surprised that the goblins could actually speak, and even more amazed that I understood them. For some reason, I had assumed them to be primitive savages.

Shaking my head in bemusement, I crept up the edge of the campfire and listened attentively.

“You smart, you shut up. Or Knorl smash you,” the older goblin said.

“Bah! Me no fear Knorl,” the tattooed goblin replied.

“Then you be stupid,” his companion spat. “Knorl speaks for Master. He be chief one day,” the goblin predicted.

My curiosity was piqued at the reference to the Master. They couldn’t be referring to the same Master, could they?

“But why us be here?!” the young goblin whined. “Me no mewling woman!” He thumped his chest. “Me warrior!”

The older goblin snorted. “We soldiers. Not warriors. We listen chief. If chief say watch tunnel, we watch.” He paused. “Chief says if all players die, Master gives tribe reward.” His eyes gleamed. “Beeg reward. Do as chief says. Chief smart. Let dungeon kill lotta players. Then we kill rest.”

“But me wants to kill players now!” the other goblin protested. He bared his teeth in a ghastly smile. “Especially elves.”

His companion chuckled. “We serve Master. Master always fighting.” The older goblin’s humor faded and he stared into the fire. “There be always more elves to kill,” he finished, almost wearily.

“But me want—” the younger archer began.

“Shuddup!” the older goblin barked, seeming to lose patience. “Enough talking or players hear us!”

The younger goblin muttered something under his breath, but he didn’t gainsay his older companion. Presently, both goblins fell silent and I crept away.

The pair had given me much to think on.

~~~

I pressed my back against the tunnel and leaned my head against the cold wall while I pondered what I had learnt. From the overheard conversation it was clear that the Master had not only put the goblins in the dungeon—which I had known already—he had also offered them incentives to kill the candidates.

I don’t know why, but that just rubbed me as wrong. The Master had been clear from the get-go about the purpose the trials served, and I couldn’t fault him on that front, but what I disliked was how much of a game he was turning this into.

I suspected the Master had set the goblins to hunting us for no other reason than to provide him with entertainment. The more I learnt of our mysterious ‘benefactor,’ the less I liked.

Do I even want to pass this trial? I wondered. I wasn’t so sure anymore. Yet what would be the consequences of failure? My eyes shifted to the still and unmoving undead bat on my shoulder. Would the Master kill me? I wouldn’t put it pass him. But the Master’s motives aside, had anything changed? My eyes drifted to the goblins.

No.

I still have to get stronger.

I still have to escape the dungeon.

I still have to kill the goblins.

Closing my eyes, I schooled myself to patience. Soon, the goblins would sleep. Then I would act.

~~~

For the next few hours, I kept a lonely vigil while I watched the goblins. I was determined not to lose focus again, or succumb to sleep. I had no idea on what day-night cycle the goblins were following, but I knew sooner or later, the pair had to sleep.

Four hours later, my patience was rewarded and I heard the first snores coming from the campfire. At last.

Creeping towards the sleeping goblins, I paused at the edge of the circle of light and verified that my targets were indeed passed out before inching forward again.

Both goblins lay on their sides. A dirty sack, serving as a makeshift pillow, was tucked under the head of each. I drew my swords and edged closer to the older goblin. He was the more dangerous of the pair and had to be eliminated first. Slowly, I went down on one knee beside the goblin, my movements slow and controlled.

The goblin did not stir.

I raised my swords, and held them poised above my target while I decided where to strike. Hide armor protected the goblin’s torso, legs, and arms, leaving only a small part of his neck and head exposed.

The neck, I decided. That’s where I must strike.

I narrowed my eyes and tensed my arms, readying myself to bring my blades crashing down. A long second passed. Then another. But still my swords did not whip down. I was hesitating.

Why was I hesitating?

I’ve never murdered anyone before.

The thought rippled through my mind with sudden and shocking clarity. It was true. I knew with certainty that I had never killed anyone, much less committed murder. Despite whatever the Master said, right then I knew I was not evil.

I am no murderer.

I glanced down at my intended victim. If I went through my plan, I would become a killer. Could I become one? Did I want to be one? I had not been afflicted by such doubts when fighting the slimes. But then again, the creatures had clearly not been sentient.

The goblin, for all that he was a primitive savage, was still a person. A living, breathing person with thoughts and desires of his own. But the archer was more than that. He was my foe too. The goblin’s own words bore testimony to his intent: he and the rest of his tribe had pledged themselves to kill me and every other candidate in the trials.

Asleep, the goblin didn’t appear threatening, but I was not fooled. Given a half a chance, I didn’t doubt he would slay me without remorse. My hands tightened around the hilts of my swords.

It is him or me.

I may not have been a killer in my other life, but I had no illusions: if I wanted to survive in this world, I would have to kill—and repeatedly.

But, I swore, I will do it by my own code.

I will not prey on the weak, or the helpless.

I will kill only those that deserve it, or seek to harm me.

I will serve justice. And the Master and his cause be damned.

At ease with my actions, I brought my swords flashing down.