Chapter 411 Dying Flame

The gashes were deep, some of them torn wide open from the rat’s savage attacks, but Kaka had fought through it all, even with his limbs mangled, and for that, Hermit couldn’t help but feel a surge of admiration. It was hard to believe that such broken goblin could endure so much. Kaka had no arms, no legs, but he had something that Hermit could only dream of - courage.

As Hermit continued to work, his mind churned with thoughts of failure and inadequacy. His bandages were too loose in places, too tight in others. He knew he wasn’t doing it right, but he had to try. Kaka needed him, needed him to do better than this. As he tied off the last of the bandages, he couldn’t help but feel sick with himself, with how clumsy he was, but at least Kaka wasn’t bleeding now.

Suzuka watched him work silently for a moment before speaking. 

“So, yeah. I was thinking and decided we’re staying here for the night. With the snowstorm getting worse and goblins hurt, we should take a day to let them rest. We can settle here, this shed is barely standing but It’s better than stumbling around in the cold when the snow is neck deep. We’d freeze before we got anywhere, it's getting chilly even for my liking.”

“You should lie down too,” Suzuka continued, “I’ll keep watch. Make sure no one sneaks up on us—monsters, animals, anything. Get Kaka and the hatchlings comfortable. Let them rest. If they’re going to survive this, they need to rest, and you’ve got a job to do. Don’t waste this chance.”

Hermit nodded again, swallowing the lump in his throat. He glanced over at the box where the hatchlings lay—still alive, still vulnerable. The small, weak bodies huddled together for warmth. Despite everything that had happened, they were still alive. 

He shuffled over to the crate where the hatchlings were resting, pulling the blankets from the corner of the shed and covering them as best as he could. The tiny creatures shivered beneath his touch, their fragile bodies barely able to keep the cold at bay. He could still hear their soft, pitiful whimpers from earlier, the hunger and exhaustion clawing at their little bodies.

The fire crackled weakly, its feeble flames licking at the damp, rotting planks Hermit had thrown in. The wood sizzled as moisture burned away, filling the cramped shed with a faint, musty scent. The embers glowed a dull orange, barely keeping the darkness at bay. Outside, the wind howled like a starving beast, rattling the walls and sending fine dustings of snow seeping through the cracks.

The cold was worsening. It crept in through the wooden slats, coiling around them like an unwelcome specter. Even Suzuka, usually unbothered by the cold, kept her armor on, her arms crossed as she leaned against the opposite wall, her sharp eyes flicking toward the entrance now and then. She had already resolved to keep watch, her sword resting within easy reach.

Hermit shivered as another gust of wind whistled through the gaps in the walls. His breath came out in soft, wispy clouds, vanishing in the frigid air. He clenched his fists, trying to will the shaking from his body, but it was no use. The chill had sunk deep into his bones, and the warmth from the pathetic fire barely reached them.

His eyes drifted to Kaka. The broken goblin lay limp, his bandaged body motionless except for the faint, shallow rise and fall of his breathing. His dull, cracked lips parted slightly as he let out weak, unconscious exhales. His skin, a sickly shade of green, was clammy to the touch.

Hermit swallowed the tight knot in his throat.

He couldn’t let Kaka freeze.

With slow, careful movements, he adjusted his coat. It was the only truly warm thing he owned, and he didn’t hesitate for a second before peeling it from his own shoulders. He pulled Kaka in close, wrapping the coat around them both, his arms looping tightly around the limbless goblin’s frail body.

Kaka barely stirred, his head lolling against Hermit’s chest. He was frighteningly light, as if he were nothing more than a bundle of bones and bandages.

Hermit hugged him tighter, pulling the edges of the pelt close, cocooning them in what little warmth he could offer. He tucked his chin against Kaka’s head, whispering something soft and incoherent—words of comfort, or maybe apologies, though he wasn’t sure which.

The heat of their bodies was weak, but it was something.

From the crate, the hatchlings let out soft, exhausted chirps. They were huddled together under the cloths Hermit had laid over them, but he could still hear their tiny bodies shivering. A pang of guilt twisted his gut—he should be holding them too, keeping them close, keeping them warm. But he only had two arms, and right now, Kaka needed him the most.

He turned his head slightly and saw Suzuka watching him from across the room. She said nothing, but her eyes could burn a hole in steel.

Hermit didn’t ask.

He just tightened his grip on Kaka, rested his head against the cold wooden wall, and listened to the storm raging outside. Sleep dragged at him, heavy and inescapable. His exhausted body surrendered in mere minutes, his head tilting until his forehead rested against Kaka’s. His breathing slowed, his grip on the limbless goblin loosening just enough to be comfortable. Soft, uneven snores escaped him as he drifted into unconsciousness, completely lost to the weight of his fatigue.

Suzuka watched them for a moment. They looked pathetic. Huddled together like a bundle of discarded rags, curled up against the biting cold, barely clinging to warmth. A single thought crossed her mind—if she left them there, if the fire went out, they'd probably freeze to death before morning.

With a long, drawn-out sigh, she pushed herself up and stretched, rolling her shoulders. 

"Tch. What am I even doing here?"

Then, without another word, she stepped outside.

The wind slapped against her the moment she opened the rickety door, stinging her face like a dozen tiny knives. The snowstorm was still raging, thick waves of white pouring from the sky, burying the landscape in an endless sea of frost. The cold bit at the exposed skin, but she didn’t so much as flinch.

She trudged toward the nearest pile of wreckage, her gloved fingers brushing over the debris. Splintered planks, broken barrels, shattered crates—garbage left to rot in the cold. But right now, garbage was better than nothing.

With a grunt, she lifted a chunk of wood, collecting anything that would burn. 

At one point, her boot crunched against something solid. She looked down.

A skeletal hand, half-buried in the snow.

Suzuka exhaled through her nose, stepped over it, and kept working.

Back inside the shed, the goblins remained curled up where she left them. Hermit and Kaka were bundled together, the smaller goblin’s arms wrapped tightly around the limbless one, their shared warmth the only thing keeping them from freezing. The hatchlings were buried in their nest, chirping weakly in their sleep.

Suzuka’s golden eyes swept over the wreckage, searching through the skeletal remains of wooden pens and collapsed breeding pits. It was all garbage now—splintered beams, half-rotten planks, shattered barrels—but even trash could burn, and right now, that was all that mattered.

Her hands wrapped around a broken crate. She yanked it free from the snow, the damp wood creaking as she lifted it. She tossed it onto a growing pile of salvageable scraps, then moved on.

A rusted iron torch stand jutted out from the frozen ground nearby, barely holding itself together. Once, it might have been used to light the pens where goblins were kept—kept like livestock, like vermin. She snorted, kicking at it, watching as the brittle metal collapsed under the force of her boot.

By the time she returned to the shed, her arms were loaded with whatever scraps she could scavenge. She dumped them by the fire, shaking off the snow that clung to her sleeves.

The fire had dwindled in her absence, its glow weak and struggling against the cold.

She grabbed a few dry planks, snapped them over her knee, and tossed them into the flames. The fire roared back to life, its warmth licking against her face, driving back the creeping chill that had started to seep into the shed. She jabbed at the embers with the rusted tip of a broken spear, coaxing the flames to spread, to consume, to grow.

Behind her, Hermit stirred slightly, shifting in his sleep as he clung tighter to Kaka, his face buried in the folds of his pelt coat. The hatchlings let out soft, pitiful noises from their crate, their tiny bodies huddled together for warmth.

As the wind howled outside, rattling the shed like an angry beast, Suzuka decided it was time to treat herself to a hot meal. The day had been exhausting, the cold unforgiving, and though she was no stranger to hardship, she had no intention of spending the night on an empty stomach.

She reached into her item storage, and one by one, her supplies appeared before her—each item neatly placed on the frozen ground with a quiet thud. A small foldable table unfolded with a satisfying click as she set it up by the fire. Plates, utensils, a kitchen knife sharp enough to split hairs, and a well-seasoned cooking pan joined the array.