Chapter 135 Tender Care

She realized that there was still hope, and without wasting a moment, she grabbed the goblin by the throat and ran toward the small river a few meters away. With all her might, she plunged the goblin's feeble body into the water, attempting to wash off the acid.

In her mind, she thought, "Goddamn it, how much more of my blood do I have to sacrifice to keep this damn goblin alive? This stupid mission better be worth something. If this goblin survives and we deliver him safely, Larry will have to pay me more than 15 gold coins. The repairs for my armor and weapons will be expensive, not to mention cleaning fees. I also need to pay the rent and send a letter to my parents. Ah! So many expenses. After all that, I'll probably be left with nothing in my pocket, again."

After she finished rinsing off the acid from the goblin's body, she flung him on the ground. Then, she made a deep cut on her hand, allowing her blood to splash onto his melted and dissolved flesh. With this third dose of her healing half-monster blood, the goblin's body accepted it eagerly, as if it were a drug. His injuries began to close up, regenerating from the bone, and his skin started to regain its usual green coloring. His partially disfigured face was restored almost completely within minutes, and after a few more minutes, his body was nearly back to normal. Hermit's breathing returned to a steady rhythm, but he remained unconscious.

Suzuka looked at his pitiful state and muttered, "Well, I did everything I could. He should survive. Now, I must hurry back to Larry; he might need assistance." 

Suzuka grabbed the goblin by the leg and ran back in the direction where she last saw Larry, only to have him unexpectedly appear in front of her, leaping out from the lush foliage.

As Larry emerged into view, Suzuka's face twisted with worry, her voice laced with concern. "Larry! Your face!" She rashly tossed Hermit onto the ground, landing him in the thorny bush, as she hurried toward Larry.

One side of his face was smeared with blood, a cut traversing from his forehead down his eye and ending at his jawline. Despite his appearance, Larry showed no concern for his own well-being, only uttering, "Don't worry about it. Arin and I are fine. The beast grazed my face while I delivered a finishing blow. But forget that. Tell me, did you find Hermit? Is he safe?"

Suzuka approached Larry with gentle care, her fingers delicately touching his injured face. She uttered in frustration, "Forget that damn goblin for just a moment. Look what happened to your handsome face because of him. If not for the mission, you wouldn't have had to endure such an injury. This will leave a horrible scar."

Larry, maintaining his usual calm and charismatic demeanor, reassured her, "Don't fret over the scar. It's a man's pride and honor. A testament to his heroic deeds. Besides, women appreciate a man with a distinguished scar. But worry not, it's not a deep wound, and my eye is unharmed. I still have it intact. Now, is the goblin alright?"

Suzuka pointed toward a nearby bush and replied, "Yes, he's alright. He's sleeping in that bush."

Larry hurriedly rushed to Hermit's side and carefully scooped him up in his hands, cradling the goblin's childlike body with gentleness. After a few moments, they reached Arin and David, who were waiting by the corpses of the Bloody Wolves. David was shocked as he witnessed Larry nestling the goblin in his arms, resembling a parent holding a baby. The sight twisted his stomach, but what surprised him, even more, was that moments earlier, the goblin's body had been partially melted, yet now it appeared almost unharmed. Despite his urge to take action and demand answers, David hesitated, afraid of worsening his own situation. He stood there, clenching his fists in anger and gritting his teeth.

Larry sat on the ground and maintained a firm grip on Hermit, refusing to release him from his embrace. He wiped the blood off his face and consumed a red potion to halt the bleeding. Slowly, the wound began to close, and the bleeding ceased. 

Speaking with authority, Larry addressed the group, his words commanding attention, "Listen up! No more mistakes, no more disregard for orders. We are almost home but do not let your guard down just because the town is within reach of our hands. I will carry Hermit from this point onward. I will need everyone's full focus on the task."

As Larry's thunderous voice echoed through the air, Hermit's tired eyes pry open with a grueling effort. Exhaustion weighed heavily upon him, every limb aching with the torment he had endured. His frail body seemed crushed under the weight of his suffering, bearing the scars and wounds that painted a graphic portrait of the abuse he had endured.

 Hermit's frail form trembled as he mustered the strength to open his dry and cracked lips, whispering in a voice strained to a mere whisper, "W-wa-water... p-p-plea-se..." His plea was a desperate cry, a plea for respite from the relentless thirst that ravaged his parched, burnt throat. His cracked and desert-like lips yearned for the soothing touch of water, longing for even the smallest droplet to quench his insatiable thirst.

Larry swiftly retrieved his flask filled with precious water. Carefully, he poured a few meager drops into the palm of his hand, ensuring they dripped into the goblin's mouth. Hermit, with a mix of gratitude and desperation, swallowed the water with a guttural sound caught in his throat, offering a fleeting moment of relief amidst the relentless torment.

With gentle tenderness, Larry extended his hand, carefully holding morsels of food. He placed the sustenance near the cracked lips of the goblin, urging him to partake in this meager offering. The food was unlike anything he had ever tasted, especially when compared to the wretched scraps he was given as a slave. In the past, goblins and the bandits had reveled in their cruelty, callously tossing him rotting remnants infested with maggots and mixed with crap. He vividly recalled his trembling hands grasping for those morsels, his fingers quivering from both weakness and anticipation. He remembered the putrid stench assailing his senses, an odor so repulsive it made bile rise in his throat.

However, the food Larry now presented to him was different. It possessed a tempting flavor that tickled his taste buds, a stark contrast from the feces he had to eat in the past. Hermit's weakened state compelled him to accept the nourishment, relishing each bite with a mixture of ravenous hunger and profound appreciation.

As he forced himself to swallow a meager portion of sustenance, the act itself was an ordeal. The food, half-chewed and mangled, slid down his throat with a sickening wet sound, almost a gagging gurgle echo that grumbled in the stillness of the air. His stomach clenched, protesting against the meager nourishment it received.

Suddenly, his eyes began to twitch uncontrollably, a subtle spasm. His body quivered an involuntary, response to the physical and emotional traumas he had endured. The weight of his exhaustion pressed upon him, threatening to pull him back into the depths of unconsciousness.

With a weary sigh, his head slowly leaned to the side, a silent surrender to the overwhelming strain that consumed him. Hermit's body, fatigued beyond measure slipped into a state of blackout, his mind seeking rest from the torments that had destroyed him so mercilessly.

David, observing the scene unfold, felt a surge of hatred rise within him. He gagged, unable to comprehend the gentle and caring treatment Larry displayed towards the goblin. In his mind, there was only one thought that consumed him: how to bring an end to the goblin's existence as swiftly and cruelly as possible.

Larry gently laid Hermit onto the ground, placing carefully his frail head on the soft patch of grass, and approached the barrel. Taking his time, he inspected every inch, ensuring it was clean and safe. With tender hands, he cleaned the barrel, removing any traces of dirt or debris. To provide added comfort, he poked a few holes in strategic places, allowing for proper ventilation.

Larry carefully gathered all of his blankets and a sleeping bag he had and arranged them inside the barrel. With meticulous care, he created a cozy and inviting space within, ensuring comfort for the fragile, weak, and small body of the goblin. Carefully, he placed the fragile and weak body of Hermit, the small and scrawny goblin, onto another soft blanket.

With utmost tenderness, Larry took Hermit's lean and feeble arms, crossing them over his chest, and gently pulled his legs towards his chest, creating a protective cocoon. He cradled the frail and unconscious body, ensuring every movement was gentle and delicate. Wrapping the naked goblin in yet another blanket, Larry shielded him from the chilling cold, providing a comforting embrace in the process.

Finally, with a steady hand, Larry lifted Hermit and placed him inside the barrel. He closed the lid carefully, ensuring that the goblin was safe, snug, and shielded from the harsh elements. Every action was executed with a deep sense of care and concern for the Hermit's well-being, creating a haven within the confines of the barrel.

As he snugly tucked in the goblin, showing such sincere care, David's face contorted with rage, disgust, and frustration. Thoughts swirled in his mind as he grumbled, "What?! Are you going to kiss him wishing for goodnight too? This is so disgusting! How did this wretched creature even manage to survive such horrendous abuse!? It's absurd! This goblin is more resilient than a cockroach. At least cockroaches stay dead when you step on them, but this freak of a goblin keeps bouncing back. There is no time left, we are almost back in town. There will be no opportunities for me to dissect that freak."

David's thoughts were interrupted by the sudden shout, "Alright, everyone, let's move out!" With those words, Larry secured the barrel on his back, and the group set off. David trailed behind Larry with his eyes glued on the barrel with one and only thought in his mind: piercing that barrel with his sword.

 They maintained a slow pace, trudging onward for a few hours until, at long last, they arrived at the safety of the town. As they traversed the bustling streets teeming with people, a sense of relief washed over them, knowing that the danger had dissipated and their mission had been accomplished, bringing it to a fulfilling conclusion.

Larry and the rest of the group navigated the bustling streets of the town, the air thick with the hum of activity and the clamor of voices. In the midst of the commotion, as Larry carried the unconscious goblin in a barrel, he felt a slight shift and movement from within. His instincts immediately warned him that this was the worst possible time for the goblin to awaken.

Sensing the goblin's stirring consciousness, Larry's mind raced through the potential consequences. The crowded street was a breeding ground for suspicion and fear, and the last thing they needed was the sudden appearance of a disoriented goblin drawing attention to their group.