Chapter 431 A Grotesque Mockery of What it Had Once Been

One by one, he worked his way through them. The ones with broken limbs, he splinted with scraps of wood and strips of cloth. The ones too weak to swallow, he anointed with crushed paste, smearing it along their gums like a mother bird feeding her chicks. The ones who whimpered, he tucked closer to the fire. The ones who didn’t, he held for just a moment longer, just to feel the faint rise and fall of their chests.

And then there was Kaka.

Hermit hesitated when he reached him. His oldest friend, his caretaker, his father—what was left of him—lay where Suzuka had tossed him, his body a grotesque mockery of what it had once been. His arms and legs were gone, his torso bloated, the skin stretched tight over the eggs they’d forced inside him. The stench was unbearable. The sight was worse.

But Hermit didn’t look away.

He rolled Kaka onto his side, careful not to disturb the ruined flesh, and propped him against the cave wall so he wouldn’t choke if he woke. He draped a pelt over the worst of the wounds, not for dignity—goblins like them had never been allowed that—but to keep the flies away. And then, because there was no one left to see, no one left to punish him for the weakness of sentiment, he pressed his forehead to Kaka’s and held it there, just for a moment.

No words passed between them. None were needed.

When he finally pulled back, Hermit didn’t rest. Not yet.

He cradled Pepper’s broken body in his trembling hands. The hatchling was so small, so light—like holding a bundle of twigs wrapped in torn cloth. Its breathing came in wet gasps, each one punctuated by that same mindless, feverish chant.

"Pepe… pepe… pepe... pe…"

It's one remaining eye rolled wildly, unfocused, seeing nightmare only it could witness. Its claws spasmed, digging into Hermit’s palm, as if it were still trying to crawl toward safety, even now. Even like this.

Hermit’s throat tightened. He turned, his gaze finding Suzuka where she lounged near the fire. He extended Pepper toward her, the hatchling’s mangled body barely recognizable as something that had once been alive.

"Master Helen… This hatchling… all he could say was ‘pepe, pepe’ in his little voice… so that became his name. Pepper. He… he didn’t do anything bad. He just hatched. Just learned to walk.

He’s… he’s hurt so bad. See? His little head… it’s all wrong. I can’t… my potions can’t fix this. I’m not good enough. But you… the strong potion. The one that glows. The one that brought me back when my bones were crushed… the one you gave me when monsters tore my side open. That magic… that strong, kind magic… it could save him. Please.

Please, Master Helen. Look at his eyes. He’s so scared. He doesn’t understand why it hurts. He just knows I’m here and it still hurts. He won’t… little Pepper won’t make the night without it. He’ll just… stop. And he never got to see the sun on the grass. He never got a full belly. He just got hurt. Please. Don’t let his whole life be the hurt. You have the power. Please… use it for him. Just this once. For Pepper."

Suzuka didn’t move. Didn’t even look at him. She just stared into the fire, her fingers steepled beneath her chin.

"No."

"B-But-But Master… please. Please, Master Helen. Look at his little claws. They’re still soft. They never got to dig in good dirt. Just… just in blood and filth. And his ear, big healthy ears… it twitches when he sleeps. Or… or it did. Before.

He… he knows my voice. When I talk, he tries to turn his broken head. He tries. He’s trying to live. He wants to. Please don’t… don’t let his trying be for nothing.

You have so much power. You moved the mountain. You broke the sky. This… this is so small for you. Just one little drop. One little drop of your great blood for one little, broken life. You saved me. I was nothing. I am nothing. Just a stupid, crying goblin. But you saved me. More than once. Was I… was I worth it? Was I worth your potion? Then… then Pepper is too. He’s better than me. He’s never hurt anyone. He only ever said his own name.

Please. I’ll… I’ll do anything. I’ll carry double. I’ll never ask for rest. I’ll build your town twice as fast. I’ll give you my share of food. Please. I’ll give you my ears. My beloved ears! You can have them. Just… just a drop. A drop of your godly blood for Pepper.

Don’t make me just sit here and watch his light go out. Don’t make my last thing be watching this little, good thing die in my hands. I have to watch Kaka die. I have to bury the others. Please… don’t make me watch Pepper, too. Not Pepper. Please, Master. I’m begging. I’m on my knees. I’m nothing. But he… he could have been something. With your help. Please."

"No, you weeping sack of wet regrets. It won’t work on him. It's not a 'potion,' it's my blood. Your useless, scrawny body only handles it because I've been drip-feeding you trace doses for months. It's why you're not a puddle of goblin-paste after the beatings you took from everyone till now.

That hatchling? His insides are basically mush held together by hope and whimpering. You pour a drop of my blood into him, and he won't heal—he'll pop. One second, he's 'pepe-pepe,' the next he's a wet stain on your already filthy knees. You want that? You want to be the one who explodes him? Fine. Be my guest. It'll be the best thing you've ever done for him.

Now stop begging. It's disgusting. Either let it die quiet, or speed it along yourself. But my blood isn't for every sorry, squirming thing that catches your soggy little heart."

Hermit’s whole body seemed to shrink, folding in on itself like a paper lantern in the rain. His trembling hands, still cradling Pepper’s tiny, shuddering form, slowly lowered to his lap. He looked down at Pepper, not with hope, but with terrible understanding. The fight bled out of him, replaced by sorrow and tears that wrecked his voice as he spoke. 

“Then… then dat’s it, his whole world… is my dirty hands and da big hurt in his head. He never knew a full sun. Never chased a bug. Never tasted a berry dat wasn’t rotten. He just… hatched into da hurt. And now he dies in it.

I give him a name. I thought… I thought maybe if he had a name, da world would see he was a someone. Not just a… a thing for da bad ones ta break. But da cruel world don’t see. It just… it just takes.

I wanted ta show him da green place I dream of. Where da dirt is soft and da water is clean. I wanted ta hear him say his name when he was happy, not… not scared. Just once.”

He bent over the hatchling, his long ears curving forward to make a small, dark tent around Pepper, his forehead nearly touching the tiny hatchling.

“I’m sorry, little Pepper. Papa is here. Papa’s sorry da world is so mean. I’m sorry I ain’t got da magic. I’m sorry… I’m sorry all you got at da end… is me.”

He fell silent then, rocking gently back and forth, his entire being reduced to a shuddering monument of helpless love and bottomless regret.

Pepper let out a weak, gurgling cry, its body arching as another wave of pain wracked its tiny body. Its claws scrabbled against Hermit’s wrist, leaving thin trails.

"Pepe... pe… pepe…"

The sound was slurred now, wet with blood, the syllables collapsing into each other like a drowning thing gasping for air. Its eye locked onto nothing, its pupils blown wide with delirium, its mind lost in some endless loop of terror.

"Pepe? Pepe? Pepe... pepepe..."

Hermit’s vision blurred. He pulled Pepper closer, tucking the hatchling against his chest, as if his own body could somehow shield it from the inevitable.

"Shhh-shhh, little Pepper, shhh-shhh," he whispered, rocking slightly. The same meaningless noise he’d used a thousand times before. The same noise that had never saved anyone.

Across the fire, Suzuka exhaled sharply through her nose and looked away.

Hermit gathered the hatchlings close, arranging his own broken body around them like a living barricade. The smallest ones—the ones still trembling, still afraid—he tucked against his chest, their tiny claws snagging in the skin of his chest. The others he surrounded with his arms and legs, a broken fence of flesh to keep them from wandering into the dark.

Hermit cradled Pepper’s broken little body lastly. The hatchling’s feverish murmurs had faded to weak, shuddering gasps, it's one good eye glazed over with pain and delirium. It didn’t recognize him anymore—didn’t know where it was, only that it hurt, and that the world was cold, and dark, and cruel.

Hermit, with tenderness, cupped Pepper in his broad palms and did what old goblins do for the littlest ones.

He folded his long, meaty ears forward, their thick, velvety flesh draping over Pepper like a living blanket. Gently, so gently, he tucked the hatchling into the warm cradle of his left ear, nestling it against the softest part, where the blood ran close to the surface and the heat was constant.

Pepper jerked weakly, a frail whimper escaping its throat— “Pepe… pepe…”—but Hermit shushed it, his voice a low, rumbling vibration against its fragile body.

“Shhh-shhh, Shhh-shhh.” he murmured, adjusting the fold of his ear to cocoon Pepper completely, leaving only its tiny face exposed so it could breathe.