Chapter 46 The Fight Pit

The day passed in a blur of unconsciousness and agony. When I finally stirred again, it was evening. I blinked through glazed, unfocused eyes, seeing that little had changed. Kaka still lay in his filth, but now the hatchlings had nestled against his broken form, seeking comfort from their only source of warmth.

Summoning every ounce of willpower, I tried once more to reach Kaka's side, to offer him some semblance of comfort. But the pain was insurmountable, and I collapsed once again. There was no more time left for us. The goblin master would soon come to inspect Kaka's condition to determine if he was fit for work. But Kaka was in worse shape than ever, his body a twisted wreckage of torment. I knew the outcome; if Kaka couldn't work, he would be killed and chopped into hound feed.

Desperation surged through me. I struggled with everything I had left, but my body was beyond its limits. I collapsed yet again, defeated by the overwhelming pain. As dawn broke, the dreaded moment arrived. The goblin master stood at our shed door, his silhouette casting a long, ominous shadow over us.

The master goblin Shakar stepped inside our shed, his nose curled in disgust at the stench of burned flesh, blood, shit, sweat, and other filth. He took a glance around and saw us strewn across the ground like trash, littered and broken. With a look of disdain, he knelt and picked up the charred hatchling corpse, its frail charcoaled limbs crumbling in his hands. Tossing the carcass back to the ground with a sneer, he turned his attention to Kaka, a sight that seemed to stir even Shakar's cold heart.

Kaka lay in a puddle of filth, stinking and swarmed by flies. His wounds and bruises were open, squirming with maggots, beginning to rot. He was alive, but just barely, his body a grotesque tapestry of suffering. The most horrifying sight was his butt, charred and blistered, with a wooden torch handle protruding grotesquely. Kaka's belly was bloated as if he had been left to rot under a scalding sun.

Panic gripped me like a vice, adrenaline pumping through my veins. I managed to crawl to Kaka's side, covering him with my body in a futile attempt to shield him.

 "Master, please," I begged, my voice trembling. 

"Why beat us so? Why do us so? Master, you promised, you did. Promise not to be broken... but you did. Why beat us so much? Why send Slasher to hurt us so, to torment us so?"

Shakar stood up, his expression unreadable. He looked down at me with a mixture of curiosity and disdain. 

"Slave, I do not break a promise I make. Not even to a slave. But by the looks of it, the promise was broken indeed, you are telling the truth. You seem to be freshly beaten, and it is not by the adventurers' hand from the other day."

He turned to one of his orc guards and issued a command, "Bring me Slasher here, right now."

The orc guard flashed a satisfied smile and said, "With pleasure, boss. It's time we teach that rat a lesson."

Shakar's eyes narrowed. 

"Do not harm him, just bring him here. I want to hear what he has to say."

As the guard left to fetch Slasher, I could feel Kaka trembling beneath me, his frail body wracked with pain and fear. His eyes, once filled with a glimmer of hope, were now dull and lifeless, reflecting the torment he was enduring.

Shakar paced back and forth, his heavy boots echoing in the silent shed. He glanced at Kaka and me occasionally, his gaze calm and cold.

Finally, the guard returned, dragging Slasher by the arm. The usual sadistic grin on Slasher's face lit up as he saw the scene before him. Shakar's presence was intimidating, but the sight of Kaka, barely clinging to life, and me, desperately trying to protect him, seemed to strike a sadistic chord in Slasher's twisted mind.

 Shakar asked, "Slasher, did you beat these slaves even though I clearly told all of the guards to let them be?"

Slasher, showing little respect toward Shakar, swaggered toward Kaka's limp form as if he owned the place. He stepped on Kaka, pressing down with cruel satisfaction, and mocked, "Oh by the creator, I swear it was not me. Maybe he got into a fight with some local rats or something. Or... or some mighty bug kicked his ass! You never know with these stinking, disgusting, filthy kakas. Anyway, they're shitty slaves, who cares?"

 After wiping his filthy feet on Kaka's broken body, he lifted Kaka off the ground with one arm and began slapping him across the face, shouting, "Wakey, wakey, shitty slave! Wake up and tell us who did this! Who beat you, shitty slave? Who did this? Tell us, or I will deliver yet another punishment."

Kaka's body flailed uselessly with each slap, his pitiful whimpers barely audible. His frail frame trembled, his eyes wide with terror as he struggled to breathe, let alone speak. His entire being radiated helplessness, starkly contrasting with Slasher's brute force.

Before Slasher could rain down more blows on Kaka's already broken face, Shakar's hand shot out, gripping Slasher's wrist with an iron grip.

 "Are you mocking me, you filthy rat? It's clear as day you did it, and you make a mockery out of this?" Shakar's voice was a low, menacing growl. 

"You came to my farm, begged, and swore loyalty in my face, and now you disrespect me? I will not have it on my farm!"

With an angry grunt, Shakar backhanded Slasher across the face, forcing him to tumble from the shed with a dramatic crash. Slasher landed in a dramatic heap outside, seeking to attract as much attention as possible. Shakar stepped out from the shed, his voice booming with authority and rage, "You are nothing but a coward who left his fellow goblins to die and fled like the cowardly rat you are!"

As Shakar shouted in rage, his bellowing voice echoing across the goblin breeding farm, Slasher's lips curled into a sly, knowing smile. He had been waiting for this moment, meticulously executing his long-woven plan. Springing to his feet with a theatrical flair, he shouted back, his voice dripping scornfully.

"You calling me a coward?! You? The one who hides behind walls, barking orders without ever stepping outside? You, who shows pity to pathetic slaves and even goes as low as make promises to them? That's unheard of! A blasphemy! And it doesn't end there! Your orc guards are just as bumbling! One was stupid enough to bring an adventurer to our doorstep! An adventurer of all things!"

 Slasher's voice rose to a fever pitch, cutting off an orc who tried to interject, "You rat! That was your—"

"Silence!" Slasher shouted, drowning out the orc's protest. 

"And another orc let that same adventurer escape while drunk on his post! This is what bad leadership looks like, folks!" He turned to the assembled crowd, seeking their support, his eyes gleaming with malice.

 "What do all of you think?! Our so-called leader is weak! Soft! A coward! He should step down!"

The crowd didn't erupt in cheers, but a murmur of doubt rippled through them as they glanced at Shakar with uncertainty. It was clear that Slasher's insidious whispers and machinations had sown seeds of doubt among them. Slasher had spent his time at Shakar's farm sowing discontent, gossiping with guards, and tarnishing Shakar's name. The adventurer's capture, the brutal punishment inflicted on Kaka and me - all of it was part of his grand scheme.

Realization hit me like a brick to the face. Every movement Slasher had made since joining the farm, every seemingly innocuous conversation, every cruel act - it all made sense now. He had staged everything, even using Kaka and me as pawns in his twisted game. Even the nail he pierced my hand was a part of his scheme. Beating us until we were desperate enough to escape was part of his plan too, a means to an end in his plot to usurp Shakar.

Slasher's eyes gleamed with triumph as he saw the doubt in the eyes of the crowd. He had played his part perfectly, and now he was poised to seize control. Shakar seemed calm enough considering the turn of events.

"Enough of this nonsense!" Shakar roared, his voice struggling to maintain its authority. 

"You think you can undermine me with your lies and deceit, Slasher? I will not be brought down by a sniveling rat like you! Unlike you, I am not a coward!"

This was precisely what Slasher had been waiting for. With a sly, predatory grin, he bellowed, "If you're not a coward! Then duel me in the fight pit for the seat of the leader! The winner will be the boss and the loser... well... you know what happens to the loser around these parts. Or have you become so soft that you don't even know that anymore?"

Slasher's challenge sent a ripple of excitement through the goblin guards. Cheers erupted and the anticipation of a brutal fight and the possibility of a new leader stirred their bloodlust. The goblin slaves, however, were gripped by a wave of dread. The mere thought of Slasher becoming the new leader made their blood run cold. Stories of his brutality against the slaves were spreading like wildfire, causing fear and panic to seep through their ranks. Under Shakar, there was at least a glimmer of hope, a slim chance at survival. But with Slasher in power, their lives would plunge into an abyss of unending torment.

Shakar seemed unfazed by the uproar. He calmly gazed around the field, noting the calculating stares of the other goblins. Their loyalty was as fickle as a candle flickering in the wind, ready to shift to whoever held the promise of power. 

"Fine," Shakar spat, his voice calm but resolute.

 "You want a duel? You got it. The fight pit it is. It's about time I reminded everyone who the true leader is!"

Slasher's grin widened, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. He had been waiting for this moment, biding his time, honing his skills and his heinous rat tricks, and now, his patience was about to pay off. The crowd's noise swelled as they made their way to the fight pit, a crude arena surrounded by jagged rocks and splintered wood. The slaves were herded to the edges, forced to watch the impending battle that would determine their fate.