Samuel, still in his soul state, observed the goblins with a mix of curiosity and dread. Like the imps, these creatures were small and hairless, yet their eyes gleamed with varying hues, and their bodies differed in size, shape, and fitness. Despite their brutish nature, their faces displayed a surprising array of emotions. Samuel noticed traces of intelligence mingled with sadness, anger, and pain in their expressions.
One goblin, clutching a spear, mourned the fallen leader. The leader's lifeless body, slumped against the mortuary chamber wall where Samuel had first awoken, was a stark reminder of the brutality that had taken place. Another goblin, barely injured, knelt silently before a female goblin's corpse, eyes closed, arms crossed over his chest in what appeared to be a form of prayer. It was a scene that struck Samuel as almost human, almost civilized—if not for the fact that they were monsters.
But the third goblin, the one Samuel now focused on, was a different story. Slumped next to the imp's body, it struggled to bandage its wounds. The task was proving too much; Samuel could tell that the creature might not survive much longer. Oddly, the other goblins didn't help it, too absorbed in their grief to save the one still clinging to life.
Samuel shook his head, banishing the sympathy creeping into his thoughts. These creatures were monsters. If they had found him or Sophie, they would have slaughtered them without hesitation. He couldn't afford to forget that.
Resolute, Samuel formulated his plan. He would strike swiftly, without mercy. The wounded goblin next to the dead imp would be his first target; it was too close to the others. After watching them a while longer, Samuel steeled himself and used his Soul Dominion to possess the imp's body.
Moments later, the imp's lifeless eyes snapped open. But instead of the feral light of a mindless beast, there was a sharp intelligence—Samuel's intelligence. He flexed the imp's limbs, testing the muscles. The body felt powerful, far more so than his human one, but there was a rawness to it, a lack of finesse he'd have to compensate for with cunning and speed.
The mortally wounded goblin was unaware of the danger looming behind it, too focused on its own survival. Samuel moved with the predatory grace that only the imp's body could provide. Each step was calculated, his eyes locked on the goblin's back. He had to end this quietly, without alerting the others.
With a swift, precise motion, Samuel struck. The blade pierced the goblin's back, slipping between its ribs and into its heart. The goblin gasped, its body stiffening before slumping forward, dead. Samuel quickly wiped the blade on the goblin's tattered clothing, glancing at the other two. They remained oblivious, lost in their grief.
Samuel allowed himself a brief moment of relief. The first part of his plan had gone off without a hitch. Now for the second goblin—the one with the spear. He began to creep toward it, moving as silently as possible. But as he closed in, the goblin's ear twitched, and its head tilted slightly. It had heard him.
Samuel froze, his heart racing. But the goblin didn't turn around, seemingly engrossed in its mourning. He took a cautious step forward, then another. He raised the blade, ready to strike—but the goblin moved with lightning speed, spinning around, spear in hand, and lunging at Samuel with a ferocious snarl.
Samuel barely had time to react. The imp's body, though stronger and faster, was still new to him. He twisted just in time to avoid the full force of the spear thrust, but the blade still grazed his arm, leaving a shallow wound.
"Damn it!" Samuel hissed through clenched teeth, the pain fueling his anger. "You're smarter than you look, but I'm not going down that easy!"
The goblin bared its teeth, eyes narrowing in determination. The other goblin, the one kneeling by the female's body, finally noticed. Its expression twisted from grief to shock, then to grim resolve. It too picked up a weapon—a jagged, rusted blade—and turned to face Samuel. Both goblins stared at him, eyes wide with fear and surprise. But that fear quickly melted away, replaced by cold, determined fury. They knew they were outmatched, but they would not go down without a fight.
With a guttural cry that echoed through the chamber, the goblins charged. Samuel braced himself, blood pounding in his ears.
"Come on, then," he growled, baring the imp's sharp teeth in a snarl of his own. "Let's do this."
The goblins came at him with a ferocity born of desperation. The first, the spearman, feinted left before striking from the right, its spear darting forward like a serpent. Samuel twisted his body, avoiding the brunt of the attack, but the spear nicked his side, tearing through the imp's tough skin. The second goblin closed in from the other side, its rusted blade arcing toward Samuel's head.
Samuel ducked just in time, the blade whistling through the air where his skull had been. He retaliated with a savage kick to the goblin's knee, feeling the joint give way under the impact. The goblin stumbled but didn't go down. It snarled, lashing out with its free hand, claws raking across Samuel's chest. The imp's body was durable, but even it couldn't stop the sharp nails from drawing blood.
Samuel hissed in pain but didn't slow down. He spun around, slashing at the spearman with his saber. The goblin blocked with its spear, but the force of the blow nearly knocked the weapon from its hands. Samuel pressed the advantage, delivering a flurry of quick, precise strikes. The goblin blocked most of them, but each time Samuel's blade found flesh, it cut deep.
The second goblin, limping from the blow to its knee, tried to flank Samuel again. It lunged, aiming for his exposed back, but Samuel anticipated the move. He dropped to the ground, rolling away from the strike, then sprang back up, delivering a vicious uppercut that caught the goblin under the chin. The impact sent the creature reeling, blood spraying from its mouth.
"I could do this all day!" Samuel shouted, more to himself than to the goblins, trying to drown out the burning pain spreading through his body.
But the goblins weren't done yet. The spearman came at him again, more cautiously this time, eyes locked on Samuel's every move. The other goblin, blood dripping from its mouth, circled around to Samuel's other side. They were trying to box him in, to cut off his escape routes.
Samuel knew he couldn't let that happen. He feinted toward the spearman, drawing its attention, then suddenly pivoted and lashed out at the limping goblin. His saber sliced through the goblin's thigh, severing muscle and tendon. The goblin howled in pain, collapsing to the ground, clutching at its leg.
The spearman saw its comrade fall and let out a roar of rage. It charged at Samuel with reckless abandon, thrusting the spear at his heart. Samuel sidestepped the attack, grabbed the spear shaft, and wrenched it from the goblin's hands. Before the creature could react, Samuel drove the spear into its gut, twisting the weapon to ensure the kill.
The goblin gasped, eyes wide with shock and pain, before crumpling to the ground, dead. Samuel turned to face the remaining goblin, who was trying to drag itself away, leaving a trail of blood on the cold stone floor.
It looked up at him, eyes filled with a mix of fear and defiance. Samuel hesitated, feeling a strange connection to the creature's final, desperate gaze. But in the end, he drove his saber down, ending its life with a swift, merciful stroke.
The mortuary fell silent once more, the echoes of battle fading into the oppressive stillness. Samuel stood amidst the carnage, his heavy breathing the only sound cutting through the thick air. His body ached, the sharp pain of his wounds gnawing at him, yet the sense of survival outweighed the discomfort. He wiped the blood from his saber, the act almost ritualistic, before taking a moment to fully absorb the scene around him.
The chamber was dimly lit, the flickering torchlight casting long, eerie shadows across the stone walls. The goblin corpses were strewn about, their vibrant green skin now dulled to a sickly, pallid hue. The leader, once so imposing with his menacing presence, now lay broken and frail, his crushed windpipe the sole testament to Samuel's lethal precision. Nearby, the female goblin who had fought so fiercely lay still, her skull caved in, but there was an odd dignity to her death, as if she had fallen defending something precious.
Samuel's gaze lingered on the female for a moment longer, his thoughts briefly drifting to the life she might have lived, the bonds she had formed with her kin. Even in the depths of this grim place, there were remnants of something more—something akin to family, perhaps even love. It was a sobering realization, one that Samuel quickly pushed aside. There was no room for sentiment now; he had more pressing concerns.
He glanced down at his own borrowed imp body, noting with surprise the rapid healing of his wounds. The gash on his arm, a nasty cut from a spear, had already stopped bleeding, the skin knitting itself back together with unnatural speed. "This imp's body… it's better at healing than mine ever was," Samuel muttered, a mix of awe and unease in his voice. He flexed his fingers, watching as the stiffness and pain faded, replaced by a vitality that pulsed through his veins with a strange, invigorating force. The resilience of this body was beyond anything he had experienced, filling him with a renewed sense of power and purpose.
His human body would have been incapacitated by such injuries, but here he was, standing tall, the pain already a distant memory. He felt a surge of confidence, a realization that perhaps this imp form held more potential than he had initially realized. But with that realization came a creeping discomfort—how much of himself was he willing to lose to this new form? Would the power it offered come at a cost he wasn't prepared to pay?
Pushing these thoughts aside, Samuel turned his attention to the room once more. The goblins' bodies had begun to undergo a disturbing transformation, their vibrant green skin turning a sickly, pale shade as the last remnants of life drained away. The goblin leader, who had once towered over his minions, now seemed almost pitiful in death, his strength and ferocity reduced to nothing more than a memory. Yet, it was the female goblin that drew Samuel's attention again—her body, though battered and broken, still seemed to hold a strange dignity, as if she had died protecting something of great importance.
Samuel's eyes shifted to the scattered weapons on the floor—the crude spear, the rusted blade, and other implements of war that the goblins had wielded with surprising ferocity. He stooped to gather them up, inspecting each one with a careful eye. Primitive as they were, the weapons were still deadly, and in this strange new world, every tool of survival mattered. The spear, in particular, caught his attention. It was sturdy, with a sharp tip that had already proven its effectiveness in battle. Samuel placed the weapons on a nearby table, arranging them in neat rows, his mind already working through the possibilities they presented.
His gaze drifted back to the goblin corpses, now lying still in the room's oppressive gloom. The battle had drained him, yet with that exhaustion came a peculiar sense of empowerment. When he had killed the goblins, he had felt something more than just the satisfaction of victory—an unknown strength had surged through him, as if he had absorbed a fragment of their very essence. The sensation had been fleeting, but it was real, and he needed to understand it.
He looked again at the goblin leader and the female goblin. Their bodies, while damaged, were in better condition than the others. The leader's only significant injury was the crushed windpipe, and the female's fatal blow was confined to her head. They were relatively intact, and that made them useful. Samuel's eyes then moved to the mortuary chambers that lined the walls. These eerie, coffin-like containers had housed him when he first awoke, and now they would serve a new purpose.
Carefully, Samuel approached the goblin leader's body and hefted it into his arms. The goblin was heavy, his muscular form still retaining some of the life that had animated it, but Samuel's imp body handled the weight with ease. He carried the goblin leader to an open mortuary chamber and laid him inside, arranging the body with a practiced efficiency before closing the lid. Next, he repeated the process with the female goblin, placing her inside another chamber with a bit more care.
Once the goblins were secured, Samuel turned his attention to the ghouls. These twisted, corrupted forms had once been human, and their presence weighed heavily on him, especially as he recognized Sophie's parents among them. The process of moving them was harder—these bodies were larger and more grotesque than the goblins, their once-human features now distorted beyond recognition. Yet, as Samuel worked to place Sophie's parents into two of the chambers, he felt a deep pang of sadness. The faces inside were barely recognizable, but traces of humanity lingered, haunting reminders of what they had once been.
With the most pressing tasks done, Samuel stepped back and surveyed his work. Six goblin corpses and eleven ghoul corpses remained on the cold stone floor. The room, now filled with the stillness of death, was oppressive, the silence amplifying the foul stench that hung in the air. The flickering torchlight seemed dimmer now, as if the very air had grown heavy with the weight of what had transpired.
Samuel knelt beside the first goblin he had killed, curiosity gnawing at him. "If that imp had a crystal inside it," he muttered, "then maybe these goblins have something too." He reached for one of the goblin's crude daggers, its blade dull and stained with rust, but still sharp enough for his purposes. Without hesitation, he began to carefully cut into the goblin's skull, prying it open with a steady hand.
The process was gruesome, but Samuel persisted, his resolve hardened by the need to understand. After some effort, he spotted it—a small, round gem nestled within the goblin's brain, glowing with a faint, white light. "There you are," he murmured, extracting the gem with a mix of fascination and caution. It was about the size of a walnut, and as he held it up to the light, he could see that it wasn't as pure as the crystal he had taken from the imp. Still, it was something—something that might hold the answers he sought.
"Interesting," Samuel whispered, his voice tinged with a blend of wonder and unease. He moved to the next goblin, repeating the process, and again found a similar white gem within its skull. "So they all have these... but what are they for?" he wondered aloud, his thoughts racing with the possibilities.
As he continued his grisly work, he couldn't help but notice a faint glimmer in the chest cavity of one of the goblins. Frowning, he leaned closer, using the dagger to peel back the flesh. His eyes widened as he saw it—a second gem, nestled within the goblin's heart. "Two of them? One in the head, one in the heart... What the hell are these things?" Samuel's voice was filled with both wonder and confusion. He extracted the second gem and checked the other goblins, confirming his discovery. Each one had two of these crystals—one in the skull and one in the heart.
By the time he was finished, Samuel had gathered twelve white gems from the six goblins. He laid them out on the table next to the weapons, their soft glow casting eerie shadows on the stone surface. "Twelve gems… But why two per goblin?" he muttered, trying to make sense of it all.
Reluctantly, he turned his attention to the ghouls. Cutting into their bodies felt like a violation, but Samuel knew he had to understand what he was dealing with. To his surprise, he found gems inside the ghouls as well, though these were different—clear and devoid of color just like glass.
However, to his surprise, he discovered that some of the ghouls had white gems, like the goblins, but only one per body. "Weaker, but some of them have the same kind as the goblins… What does that mean?" he pondered.
Finally, he examined the imp that had killed him. The memory of his brutal death flashed through his mind, but he pushed it aside, focusing on the task. Sure enough, he found another silver crystal in the imp's chest, similar to the one he had found before. "Just like the first one…" Samuel muttered, holding the gem up. Its silvery glow was mesmerizing, but it also filled him with a deep unease.
Samuel placed all the crystals collected on the table alongside the weapons. The assortment of gems—white, clear, and silver—was an otherworldly sight. He stared at them, deep in thought. "What are you?" he asked the crystals as if expecting an answer. But the mortuary remained silent.
A thought crossed his mind, one that had been nagging at him since he found the first gem. The Grimoire. It had to contain something about these crystals. He had left it back where he first woke up, but the memory of summoning it resurfaced. "I called it to me once… maybe I can do it again," he said, excitement creeping into his voice.
Samuel closed his eyes, focusing on the grimoire. He pictured it in his mind, willing it to appear. At first, nothing happened. He furrowed his brow, trying again, concentrating harder. After several attempts, he felt a shift in the air around him. Opening his eyes, he saw the grimoire materialize in his hands, solid and real. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, gripping the book tightly.
"There you are," he murmured, a sense of satisfaction washing over him. He opened the grimoire, not entirely sure what he would find this time.