Chapter 51 Shakar's Chamber

Kaka's face burned with shame, his eyes downcast as he continued his miserable shuffle. Every step sent jolts of pain through his body, but he pressed on, knowing he had no other choice. The guards' insults and laughter echoed in his ears, each word a dagger to his already broken spirit.

But even if one guard let us pass many others continued to insult and mock us.

"You think you can just wobble away, slave? You're nothing but a useless, worthless piece of shit. No wonder you ended up with a stick up your ass!"

Another guard, not wanting to be outdone, hurled a rock at Kaka's feet, causing him to stumble and nearly fall.

"Careful, shity slave! Don't trip over your new tail! Braaaaaahahahaha!" he laughed, his eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure.

Kaka's entire body shook with the effort of staying upright, his legs trembling under the strain. The torch handle waggled behind him, a constant reminder of his humiliation. He could feel the guards' eyes on him, their gazes burning with contempt and amusement.

"What's the matter, slave!? Torch too heavy for your scrawny legs?" another guard taunted, his voice dripping with derision.

"Maybe we should stick something else up there, see if you can carry that!"

"Look at him! He's like a pathetic little puppet, all strung up and wobbling around!" one guard jeered, his voice dripping with disdain.

"Yeah, I bet he likes it that way! Probably feels right at home with a stick up his butt!" another chimed in, eliciting uproarious laughter from his comrades.

Kaka's heart pounded in his chest, his breaths coming in short, painful gasps. He dared not look up, knowing that the sight of their cruel, sneering faces would only deepen his humiliation. He focused on the ground in front of him, each step a painful effort.

"Hey, slave, need a light? Maybe we should light that torch for you, it might help you find your way out of your sorry existence!" a particularly cruel guard called out, his words punctuated by peals of laughter from the others.

"Look at him, stumbling around like a drunk! Maybe we should give him a drink to go with that torch!" another guard taunted, earning nods of agreement and snickers from his companions.

"You know, slave," a guard said, his tone mockingly thoughtful, "if you weren't such a disgusting, worthless piece of trash, maybe we wouldn't have to keep shoving things up your ass."

The laughter that followed was like a physical blow, each cruel chuckle a reminder of his abject humiliation. Kaka's eyes welled with tears, but he blinked them back, refusing to let the guards see him cry.

Another guard, tears of mirth streaming down his face, doubled over with laughter.

"Hey, slave! Does that torch handle make you feel special? Like you've got a fancy tail or something? Maybe we should light it up and see if you can dance like a proper torchbearer! Braaaaaagagaggagaa!"

"Hey, slave, why don't you use that torch handle to sweep the ground? You're already dragging your ass all over it!" another guard called out, the group howling in response.

As Kaka shuffled past, his back bent and his face twisted in anguish, one guard mimicked his painful gait, sticking his butt out and wobbling dramatically.

"Look at me, I'm a slave with a torch up my butt! I've got a torch handle for a tail, and I love it! Maybe next time they'll give me a broom so I can clean up after myself! Brraaaaaagahehahah!"

“Oh, what a sight! Slave, the proud torch-bearer! Lighting the way with his butt! Wag that tail, slave! Wag it like the dirty little dog you are! But be careful, slave! Don’t want to lose your balance and poke yourself in the brain! Not that there’s much up there to worry about!”

As the mockery continued we finally reached the entrance to Shakar's chamber, a massive wooden door adorned with crude carvings of twisted faces and snarling beasts. Two towering guards flanked the massive doors. Their eyes bore into Kaka and me, their expressions a mixture of disdain and amusement.

"Oh mighty guards, we're here to see Master Shakar. We beg for passage," Kaka said, trying to keep his voice steady despite the fear that threatened to choke him.

The guards exchanged a knowing glance before one of them grunted in acknowledgment, barely holding his chuckle as he eyed the torch sticking out from Kaka's butt.

"Get inside, you shitty runts! Boss is waiting."

Kaka hesitated for a moment, his hand hovering over the rough-hewn handle.

"Are you ready, little one?" he asked, his voice trembling ever so slightly. His eyes met mine, searching for reassurance.

I nodded, summoning what little courage I had left.

"I am ready, Kaka. No matter what happens, I'm with you." I whispered, trying to sound more confident than I felt.

With a deep breath, Kaka pushed open the door, revealing the dimly lit chamber beyond. Shakar sat upon a crude throne of bone and vines, his eyes cold and piercing as they fixed upon us.

"Ah, shitty slaves. Finally," he purred, his voice dripping with malice.

"I've been expecting you."

Kaka swallowed hard, his throat dry and constricted.

"M-master," he began, "You wanted to see us?"

Shakar's lips curled into a sinister grin.

"Indeed I do, slave. The time has come to see if you recovered enough to be worthy tools to be used."

Shakar took a glance at Kaka's current condition, his eyes narrowing with a scrutinous intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. The master goblin's gaze was merciless, and as he inspected Kaka, a sneer of disdain twisted his lips. We didn't dare to ask questions if not asked and stood in silence, waiting. 

Kaka looked brutally beaten, his palm still hadn't regrown; only a tiny nub with bony fingers nervously wriggled where his hand should have been. His ears, which Shakar had chopped with a dagger, had only regrown a few inches of thin, hanging flesh that trembled with every slight movement. Massive black bags hung under Kaka's eyes, the result of countless sleepless nights, and his eyes themselves were bloodshot, filled with a haunted look that spoke of relentless suffering.

Kaka's body was a tapestry of pain and endurance, covered in lumpy bruises and festering open wounds. His green skin was mottled with purples, blues, and black, a brutal testament to the countless beatings he had endured. Every step he took seemed to be a painful effort, each movement betraying the sheer agony that must have wracked his body. Kaka looked more like a walking corpse than a goblin, but he was alive, clinging to life with a tenacity that was both pitiable and admirable.

Shakar, the master goblin of the breeding farm, shifted in his crude, makeshift throne - a chair cobbled together from bones and scraps of wood, draped in ragged, filthy hides. His eyes, cold and calculating, turned to me. 

Compared to Kaka, I was a much better sight. I was banged up, with cuts and bruises marring my green skin, but I was not broken. I could still move with relative ease, and my injuries, though painful, were not life-threatening.

With a heavy sigh, Shakar's gaze hardened, and his voice, dripping with contempt, filled the dank, oppressive air.

 "Well, your promised time has run out, shitty slaves. I hope you have some skills because just looking at your miserable, disgusting forms makes me want to snap your necks and toss you to the beast."

"I have no time for weaklings," Shakar continued. 

"This breeding farm needs slaves who can endure pain and still perform their duties. If you can't prove your worth, you will be discarded like the trash you are." His words were a cold, harsh reality check. The survival of the fittest was the only rule here, and Shakar enforced it with an iron fist.

Looking at our pitiful goblin forms, Shakar's snarled.

 "Speak up, you wretches. What can you do for my breeding farm? How can you possibly benefit me? Convince me you're worth keeping alive."

Desperation clawed at my throat as I tried to think of anything that might save us. 

"I-I can work in the fields, Master Shakar," I stammered.

 "I'm strong enough to handle heavy loads, and I can plant and harvest crops. I know how to tend to the livestock, too. I can mend fences, build shelters, anything you need. I-I've worked with plants, I know how to make them grow now. Please, Master Shakar, give me a chance."

Shakar's eyes narrowed as he considered my plea. 

"Crop fields, hmm? Yes, I heard you did decent enough from my guard." he mused.

 "We do need someone to tend to the crops. If you can improve your skills, perhaps you'll be of some use... perhaps."

Turning his attention to Kaka, Shakar awaited his response. Kaka, despite his battered state, straightened himself as much as he could and spoke with a trembling voice, his torch tail wagged with each nervous shudder.

"I was tasked in my previous farm with overseeing the hatchery," Kaka began, his words faltering slightly.

 "I-I kept the right amount of goblin feces, pee, and the steaming heat just right to nurture the goblin eggs to be healthy. I know just the right balance to nurture the healthiest hatchlings, with the biggest ears possible. I also taught and cared for the hatchlings, ensuring they grew strong and obedient, ready to serve their master."

Shakar's interest seemed piqued by Kaka's words.

 "That is an impressive claim, go on," he urged, his tone slightly less harsh than before.

"I also," Kaka continued, his voice gaining confidence, "took care of and taught the hatchlings. I whispered to the goblin eggs, passing knowledge to the hatchlings before they were even born. You see, master, hatchlings can hear and learn before they even hatch. It's a skill I've honed over many cycles. This way they come to this world with a bit more common sense and understanding."

Shakar's expression softened slightly as he listened to Kaka's words. 

"Hatchery duties, huh?" he mused, stroking his chin thoughtfully. 

"That's a crucial role in the breeding farm, a very important one. Not many of you, shitty slaves, know the right way about it. If you can prove your worth in nurturing future generations of slaves, perhaps there's hope for you yet."

Kaka's eyes lit up with a glimmer of hope as he seized the opportunity to plead his case. 

"Yes, Master Shakar," he stammered, "I may not be as physically strong as some, but I have a knack for nurturing new life. I was entrusted with the delicate task of caring for the goblin eggs, ensuring they had the perfect environment to hatch and thrive."

He continued, his voice growing stronger with each word.

 "It is true, Master Shakar, hatchlings can hear and learn before they are born. I can teach them the ways of our kind, instilling in them the skills they need to survive in this cruel world."