Chapter 36 Kaka's Warning

As the day wore on, I kept a wary eye on the camp. The guards were moving about as usual, and Slasher continued to gossip and strut around, acting busy. My heart pounded with every passing hour, wondering if Kaka was safe, if he had been caught, or if he had managed to come up with a plan with the adventurer.

The memory of Kaka's warning about trusting the adventurer played repeatedly in my mind. The beating Slasher had given us was fresh in my memory as well, a brutal reminder of the dangers we faced. Despite Loran’s promise of a safe haven, Kaka's words rang true: humans were dangerous, and trusting them could lead to our demise.

I had seen firsthand what adventurers could do. The scenes still replay in my mind, vivid and haunting, the cruelty etched into my memory as if it had happened only moments ago. The goblin breeding farm where I had hatched, my birthplace, had been a place of filth and suffering, but nothing could compare to the horrors that descended upon it when the adventurers arrived.

They came with their weapons, spells, and relentless thirst for violence. I had seen the devastation they wrought, the ruthless way they cut down anyone and anything in their path. Goblins who had known nothing but servitude and pain, who had never lifted a hand in violence, were slaughtered without a second thought. The adventurers didn’t see us as living beings - they saw us as obstacles, as trophies to be claimed.

One particular scene had seared itself into my mind, a memory so grotesque and horrifying that it still made my stomach churn whenever it surfaced. There was a man, one of the adventurers, who wielded strange and terrible sorcery.

I remember the moment he grabbed a poor goblin slave, a harmless and peaceful creature, and slammed him onto a table with a sickening thud. The goblin cried out, a desperate, pitiful sound that was quickly silenced as the man placed a hand on the goblin’s butt, pinning him down with a strength that left no room for resistance.

The adventurer’s lips twisted into a cruel grin as he began to chant, his hand glowing with an ominous light. I watched, frozen in place by a mix of terror and disbelief, as the light coalesced into a ball of fire - a fireball that seemed to burn with a malevolent energy, crackling and hissing like a living thing. The goblin beneath him squirmed and whimpered, his cries for mercy falling on deaf ears.

With a sudden, brutal motion, the man pressed his fiery hand against the goblin’s anus. The fireball surged forward, its heat so intense that I could feel it from where I hid, searing through the goblin’s flesh instantly. The goblin’s eyes widened in shock and agony, his mouth opening in a silent scream as the fireball tore his stinky hole and through his body, blasting through his insides with a force that made the air vibrate.

The fireball erupted from the goblin’s mouth, a searing burst of flame that carried with it the goblin’s last breath, his insides reduced to nothing more than charred gore, splashed on the ground. The goblin’s body, now nothing more than a hollow, lifeless shell, slumped forward on the table, the smell of burning flesh thick in the air.

I stared, horrified, at the scene before me. The goblin who had once been a living, breathing creature was now nothing more than a flesh sleeve, his body gutted from the inside out, his life snuffed out in the most brutal way imaginable. The adventurer chuckled darkly, wiping his hands on his cloak as if he had just completed some mundane task.

It was a sight I could never unsee, a memory that would haunt me for as long as I lived. The sheer cruelty of it, the complete disregard for life, was beyond anything I had ever known. It was at that moment that I truly understood what we were up against.

The adventurers were monsters in their own right, their power matched only by their capacity for brutality. And if we were to survive, if we were to escape this hellish existence, we would have to be smarter, quicker than ever before. Because to them, we were nothing. To them, we were just another monster to be crushed.

Finally, as the sun began to set and the orcs started to gather the slaves back to their sheds, I saw Kaka sneaking back to our shed. He moved slowly, his body hunched and exhausted, but he made it inside without being noticed. I sighed in relief and quickly followed suit, keeping my head down as I returned to the shed.

Kaka greeted me with a tired but relieved smile. He had managed to talk to the adventurer without being caught, but the risk was immense. As we huddled together with the hatchlings, Kaka told me everything that had transpired, including his conversation with the adventurer.

With a grave expression and a voice filled with caution, Kaka gathered me close, his eyes dark with concern.

"Little Hermit, listen carefully. The adventurer might seem well-meaning, but we cannot afford to trust him blindly. Our safety must come first, no matter how kind he appears or how little hate he shows toward our kind."

Kaka’s voice grew more intense as he continued.

"He seems nice, yes, and he hasn’t shown disgust at our form. But that does not mean we should follow him back to his town if we want to escape. He could be hiding his true intentions, waiting for the perfect moment to betray us."

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to an excited whisper.

"But I got good news. Listen, listen, little Hermit! We have a plan, we do. Talked it over, yes, we did, the man and me. The tall one, the adventurer, he asks for a pointy thing, a sharp bit, somethin' to pick that nasty lock holdin' him in the cage. He says, 'You get me outta here, I get you lot out too!' A deal, he says, a trade! But there's more, there's more, little Hermit!"

He leaned in even closer, his beady eyes darting around to make sure no one else was listening. His voice dropped to a raspy whisper, almost like the rustle of dry leaves.

"Once we’re out, we split, we do! Not following the big one, no, no! We go our ways, little Hermit, our ways! Can’t trust him, no more than we trust the big spiky traps they set around the farm. He got his plans, he does, his things to do, not for goblins like us! We take his help, then we run, we scatter like the wind, like leaves in a storm!"

He paused, his breath coming in short, excited bursts as he glanced over his shoulder again. The night was quiet, but the fear of being overheard clung to him like a shadow.

"This way’s best, it is, Hermit. Best for us, for goblins like you and me! We get out, we run, we hide, we stay safe. The big one, he goes his way, we go ours. No more chains, no more whips, no more hurting! But trust him too much, follow him too far, and it’s the end of us, it is! We’re not like him, we're small, we gotta be smart, sneaky-smart!"

I nodded, understanding the gravity of our situation.

"If you say so, Kaka. I will follow. I trust you, not the adventurer. We will go on our way, no town, no people."

Kaka hugged me tightly and showered me with tiny kisses.

"Good, little Hermit. You're a good little gob. I'm proud of you and I love you so much, much."

I returned Kaka the hug and asked, "But Kaka, where do we get the thing the adventurer asked?"

Kaka tightened his hug and said, "I don't know yet, little Hermit. I don't know. But when we get it, then it will be the time we run away from this place, until then we need to save our strength."

I snuggled even closer to Kaka and prepared to sleep.

"You are right, Kaka. We need to rest, let's get some shuteye."

The hatchlings, sensing our tension, snuggled close for warmth and comfort. Their tiny bodies pressed against ours, seeking solace in the safety of our presence. They were such pitiful creatures, their once bright and curious eyes now wide with fear, glistening with unshed tears. Each blink was slow and heavy as if even the act of closing their eyes for a moment was too much for their tired, little souls. Their small, rounded heads nuzzled against our sides, seeking the familiar scent and warmth of those they trusted, those they loved. The way they pressed their tiny, trembling bodies against ours was heartbreaking as if they believed that by snuggling closer, they could somehow absorb the courage and strength they so desperately needed.

I could feel the soft fluttering of their breaths against my skin, each exhale shaky and uneven, like they were trying to hold back the sobs that threatened to escape their quivering lips. Their tiny chests rose and fell in quick, shallow motions as if they were struggling to keep their fear at bay, to push it deep down so it wouldn’t overwhelm them. But no matter how hard they tried, I could sense the sorrow and despair that clung to them, weighing them down like a heavy, invisible burden.

One of the smallest hatchlings, barely more than a bundle of skin and bones, buried its little face into the crook of my arm. Its tiny sniffer was wet with tears, and it sniffled softly, the sound so delicate and faint that it almost broke my heart. The way it clung to me, with its minuscule hands gripping my skin as if it would never let go, was a sight so sorrowful that it made my chest tighten with emotion. I could feel its tiny fingers trembling, the strength in them fading as the night wore on, but still, it held on, refusing to be separated from the only source of comfort it knew.

Another hatchling, slightly older but just as fragile, curled itself into a tight ball against Kaka’s side. Its small, bony limbs tucked close to its body as if trying to make itself as small as possible, as though it could disappear into the safety of the embrace. Its little back shivered with each breath it took, the cold seeping into its thin frame despite the warmth of our bodies. I watched as it tried to stifle a sob, its tiny mouth quivering as it bit down on its lower lip, but a soft whimper still escaped, a sound so full of despair that it brought tears to my own eyes.

The others, too, huddled close, their tiny bodies pressing together in a mass of sorrow and fear. Their movements were slow and hesitant as if they were afraid that any sudden action might shatter the fragile peace we had managed to find in that dark, cold shed. One of them, with big, sorrowful eyes, kept glancing up at me, as if searching for reassurance, for some sign that everything would be alright. But all I could do was gently stroke its soft, wrinkled head, trying to offer what little comfort I could, even as my own heart ached with worry and fear.

One hatchling had a habit of sucking on its tiny thumb whenever it was scared, a habit that now seemed more like a desperate attempt to find some semblance of comfort in a world that had suddenly become so frightening. It lay curled up in my lap, its thumb tucked into its mouth as it stared up at me with wide, tear-filled eyes, a silent plea for reassurance. I could see its little shoulders shaking with quiet sobs, its tiny chest heaving with the effort of holding back the tears that threatened to spill over.

Kaka's ragged breathing and my racing heartbeats were the only sounds that calmed the hatchlings in the silent shed. The night was cold, but we clung to each other, drawing strength from our shared struggle.

But our rest was violently interrupted by the sudden slam of our shed door. The sound reverberated through the small space, sending a shockwave of terror through us all. Slasher stood in the doorway, his twisted grin illuminated by the dim light that seeped in from outside. He had come to deliver torment upon our broken bodies.

We convulsed in fright, instinctively crawling into a corner, curling up into a ball in a futile attempt to defend ourselves. Our limbs shook uncontrollably, our teeth clattered from fear, and our eyes bulged as we stared at the looming figure of Slasher. His laughter, a cruel and mocking sound, echoed in the small shed, filling the space with our misery.

Slasher's shadow stretched across the dirt floor as he approached. The hatchlings, too small and fragile to comprehend the full extent of the danger, clung desperately to Kaka and me, their tiny bodies quivering. Slasher kicked a few of them aside, sending them tumbling across the shed. They squealed in pain and fear, but their cries only seemed to amuse him further.

When Slasher’s heavy boot swung out, the impact wasn’t just physical - it was a cruel, merciless blow to the very essence of life that these hatchlings barely had a chance to experience. One hatchling was sent sprawling across the dirt floor, its tiny body flipping end over end like a broken doll. It landed with a sickening thud, limbs splayed out in unnatural angles, its breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Blood, a dark and viscous fluid, oozed from its mouth, staining the earth beneath it.

The pitiful creature tried to move, to crawl back to the safety of its kin, but its movements were jerky, uncoordinated. One of its legs had been twisted in the fall, the bone jutting out at an angle. It pulled itself forward with its thin arms, each agonizing inch taking an eternity, the dirt scraping against its already thrashed skin. Its cries were soft now, almost drowned out by the gurgling sound of blood pooling in its throat.