Chapter 414 Cold Logic in a Cold Storm

“Oh no, no, no!” Hermit cried, “What happened to you little guys?!” 

He reached into the box with trembling hands, carefully picking up the injured hatchlings one by one. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, as he cradled them against his chest.

Kaka, still lying on the hay bed, let out a weak, raspy groan.

 “Hermit... The little ones... are they...?”

Hermit turned to look at his father, his eyes filled with tears. 

“They’re hurt, Kaka. I... I have to help them.”

Kaka nodded weakly, his milky eyes filled with a mixture of pain and understanding.

 “Go... help them. I’ll... be fine.”

 He cleaned their wounds and checked for broken bones.

“Do what you want with them. Just keep them quiet. I’m going back to my steak.”

As she walked away, Hermit called after her, his voice tinged with frustration. 

“I do my best, but they... these little ones... they are hungry.”

 She sat down and picked up her steak, her gaze flicked back to the box for just a moment. The hatchlings’ cries had softened, their tiny bodies now safe in Hermit’s care. 

“You fed them just an hour ago. Stuffed them like turkeys, if I recall correctly. And now you’re telling me they’re dying from hunger again? Are you serious?”

Hermit looked up at her, his hands still cradling one of the hatchlings. 

“They’re growing, Master! They need more food than we do! And they’re hurt—they need energy to heal!”

“Oh, please. They’re not growing that fast. And if they’re so fragile that they can’t survive a few hours without stuffing their faces, then maybe they’re not cut out for this world. Survival of the fittest, Hermit. Ever heard of it?”

“And let’s not forget, because of YOU rushing us out of the town without any preparations, we’re dangerously low on food. My item storage isn’t bottomless, you know. We’re stuck in the middle of a blizzard—or snowstorm, or whatever this frozen nightmare is—and we have no idea how long it’s going to last. Do you know what that means? It means we need to ration our food. Carefully. Or we’re all going to starve.”

She took a step closer, and leaned down, her golden eyes narrowing as she stared Hermit down. 

“And yet, here you are, ready to hand over our supplies to these little gluttons. Do you even hear yourself? They’re not the only ones who need to eat, you know. Or have you forgotten about him?” She jerked her head toward Kaka, who lay motionless on the hay bed.

Hermit’s gaze flicked to his father. He opened his mouth to speak, but Suzuka wasn’t done.

 “I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not freeze to death in this miserable shed because you decided to play hero for a bunch of hatchlings who can’t seem to stop eating long enough to appreciate it.”

Hermit’s shoulders slumped, and he looked down at the hatchling in his hands. It was trembling, its tiny eyes wide and pleading, and Hermit’s heart ached at the sight. But Suzuka’s words had struck a nerve, and he knew she was right—at least partially. They were running low on food, and the storm outside showed no signs of letting up. If they didn’t ration carefully, they’d all be in trouble.

“I... I know. But I can’t just let them starve, Master. They’re just babies. They don’t understand what’s happening.”

“They’re goblins, Hermit. They’re tougher than they look. A little hunger won’t kill them. But if you keep feeding them every time they squeak, it will kill the rest of us. And then who’s going to take care of them? Hmm? Or are you planning to sacrifice yourself so they can live another day? Figure it out, Hermit. But remember—if you keep this up, we’re all going to pay the price. And I, for one, have no intention of dying in this frozen hellhole because of your bleeding heart.”

With that, she walked back to her corner of the shed, where her half-finished steak sat waiting. She picked it up and took a bite, her sharp teeth tearing through the meat. But even as she ate, her gaze flicked back to Hermit and the hatchlings.

Kaka, lying on the hay bed, let out a weak, raspy groan.

 “Hermit... Do not... bother your master. Have you forgotten... the goblin ways? How we survived... in the breeding farms?”

Hermit froze, his heart sank as he turned to look at his father, his eyes wide with a mixture of shock and dread. He knew where this was going, and the memories it brought back were like a knife twisting in his chest.

“Have you forgotten... how I fed you? How I taught you... and my other hatchlings... to feed? I know it is... a horrible thing. But you must do it... for them. Give them... your natural goblin nutrition. It is the way... of our kind. The way... we survive.”

Hermit’s stomach churned, and he felt a wave of nausea wash over him. He knew exactly what Kaka was referring to—the grim, desperate practice that had kept them alive in the breeding farms, where food was scarce, and survival was a daily struggle. It was a memory he had tried to bury, a part of his past he had hoped to leave behind.

In the breeding farms, goblin slaves had no luxury of food. The hatchlings were often left to starve, their tiny bodies too weak to compete for the meager scraps thrown their way. And so, the adult goblins had resorted to the only option they had—feeding their young with their own feces. It was a natural, if revolting, adaptation, a way to ensure their offspring received some form of nutrition when there was nothing else to give.

Kaka had done it for Hermit when he was little, and for countless other hatchlings in the farms. It was a sacrifice, a act of love born out of desperation. And now, he was asking Hermit to do the same for the hatchlings in their care.

Hermit’s face contorted with anguish, his hands clutching at his chest as if trying to physically hold back the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. 

“Kaka, I can’t... It’s... it’s too much. I can’t go back to that. I can’t...”

Kaka’s eyes softened, filled with a deep, aching sadness. 

“I know... it is hard. But you must... for them. They are... your hatchlings now. You must do... what I did for you. What I did... for so many others.”

Hermit let out a low, guttural whine, the sound filled with pain and despair. He sank to his knees, his head bowed as tears streamed down his face. The weight of Kaka’s words pressed down on him, a crushing reminder of the harsh realities of their existence. He wanted to argue, to find another way, but deep down, he knew Kaka was right. There was no other option—not in this blizzard, with their food supplies dwindling and no end in sight.

Finally, Hermit nodded, “I... I’ll do it. For them.”

Kaka let out a weak, raspy sigh, his body relaxing slightly as if a great burden had been lifted.

 “You are... a good son. And you will be... a good caretaker to them.”

 The hatchlings in the box let out soft, pitiful squeaks, unaware of the sacrifice being made for them. Kaka closed his eyes, his breathing growing slower and more labored, as if the effort of speaking had drained the last of his strength.

Suzuka leaned against the wall of the shed, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her sharp eyes narrowed as she watched Hermit and Kaka engage in what could only be described as a melodramatic exchange. Their voices were low, their words flowing in the guttural, clicking tones of the goblin language—a language Suzuka, as a human, couldn’t understand. But even without knowing what they were saying, she could tell it was some kind of emotional show. Hermit’s face was twisted in anguish, tears streaming down his cheeks, while Kaka lay there, looking like a frail, limbless martyr delivering his final words of wisdom.

“What in the hell’s name are these two drama kings up to now?” Suzuka thought, "What’s with the tear show? My god, I swear, if they pull any nonsense again, I’ll snap both their necks. I’ve had it with these stupid goblins in this stupid shed.”

Hermit knelt beside them, his hands trembling, his heart heavy with the weight of what he was about to do. Kaka’s words echoed in his mind. He didn’t want to do this—he hated doing this—but he knew he had no choice. For the hatchlings, for Kaka, for all of them, he had to endure.

Suzuka, still sitting in her corner, watched with narrowed eyes as Hermit moved toward the hatchlings. She didn’t understand what was happening. Hermit’s face was a mask of anguish, his movements slow as if every step caused him physical pain.

“What in the hell is he doing now?” she thought, “Why does he look like he’s about to perform some kind of ritual? Ugh, goblins. Always so dramatic.”

But as she watched, her curiosity began to outweigh her annoyance. Hermit’s actions were strange, even for him. He crouched down beside the box, his back to her, and began to murmur softly in the guttural tones of the goblin language. The hatchlings, sensing his presence, let out soft, pitiful squeaks, their tiny bodies trembling with hunger and fear.