Voices. Echoing into my ear. Water dripping somewhere. Hushed whispers. Lanterns flickering.
"A new arrival?"
"...Those bastards caught another one…"
"He's so young, too."
The noise pressing in from every direction pulls my eyes open to the dark room, if you can even call it a room. It's a small, dungeon-like area, with the only thing missing being cells. There's barrels filled with what I assume are waste products scattered throughout. The walls are slowly peeling off, brown staining them as something kind of sick decoration. And in the center, directly across from me lies a large gate, with bars protecting it.
My eyes slowly open.
I wasn't unconscious or anything; I just kept my eyes closed, as a way of trying to make sense of where the hell I was.
I can still feel those goblins' claws digging into my arms as they dragged me here. They didn't care what they banged me against, didn't care my arm felt one bad angle away from snapping.
The air reeks of rot, and the people inside look just as bad, If not worse.
I push myself off the wall and scan the figures slumped around me. Some stare back, confused by the new arrival. Others don't bother. Their heads are buried in their arms, barely clinging on while they sit in a fetal position.
Everyone's wrapped in these tattered robes, and apparently I've been outfitted with the same. It barely covers anything, and there are no shoes.
Everyone looks depressed, just completely hollowed out. And seeing me get tossed in here just punched them even lower.
Hope is imaginary here.
We're all men, but we're all wildly different. Some have blue skin, some have horns, some have insect-like faces… but the key similarity between us is the humanoid shape we all possess.
I let out a groan.
Fantastic. Thrown straight into the enemy's prison with zero real way out. Sable Veil might bail me out….might…..but relying on that alone?
Yeah, no.
And honestly… I remember them not even trying to fight Tyrox. They just sheathed their weapons and listened attentively. I can't recall everything that happened from then though, given the fact that I had an orc's hand, which was two Psi from crushing my skull, clenching onto me for about ten minutes.
But about Sable Veil, to be brutally honest, they don't gain anything from saving me. If anything, they'd just be risking their lives for someone who—
…Nevermind.
Either way, I don't plan on rotting here. I've already been shackled as a slave. The collar on my neck is a cruel reminder of that fact.
Being a slave is bad enough. Whether I escape here with their help or not doesn't matter.
"Yoho, what's with the grim face?"
A surprisingly casual voice cuts through the gloom. I'd be lying if it didn't give me a tiny break from the pressure hanging over me. Okay, now I'm just giving it too much credit.
"Cool it, Wall. I think he's been rejected by a girl who had been friendly with him for two years, but as soon as he confessed, she swiftly turned him down."
That's way too specific to be a guess!!
"No, look, he's got a collar. He's most probably a slave that got captured and became a double slave!!"
That's an educated guess.
My eyes shift to the two strangely relaxed guys standing in front of me. One has a hand outstretched towards me.
My hand, which had been hanging by my side for about an hour, raises up to his hand with a motion I can only describe as 'low on oil.'
He lifts me up quite easily, and I'm able to gaze at his face.
"Yo," He two finger salutes me. "The name's Wall Flamburn. I'm from Vultia."
He looks young from what I can see.. Hard to tell when he's wearing sunglasses in a dungeon.
He's got snow-white spiky hair with almost a light blue hue. On his face, he's got a slightly unnoticeable, yet present scar on his lower lip. Also, somehow his glasses didn't get confiscated. They even look… modern?
I nod at his introduction, but before I can give my own, his buddy steps beside him.
"Stiyl Efet. I'm from Volaris." He smiles.
Not a clue what either of those places are.
Stiyl's around the same age, maybe even younger. Gray wavy hair, almost spiky, topped with a headband that squishes it down a bit. He's also wearing diamond-shaped earrings. And upon further analysis, I can't tell if his eyes are closed or just hidden.
He offers his hand. I shake it.
"Kaito."
"..."
"..."
They're most probably staring because I didn't tell them where I'm from, as opposed to their introductions. One small issue is that I'm not from this world at all.
"Where you from?" Stiyl asks.
"..He's got an Amatsuran name. Most probably from there," Wall says, hand on his chin, grinning. "I actually took down an Umibozu once there, y'know?"
The word rings a bell. I think I recall it being some ocean spirit from Japanese folklore. I can't remember the details, just the basics. Not that it matters, really. This world loves throwing curveballs at my expectations of preexisting folklore. Goblins were proof enough.
God, if fairies are some kind of grotesque giant, I'm really going to hurt someone.
"I'm pretty sure that was a djinn messing with you. And you fell for it, since you ended up screaming like a little girl," Stiyl corrects.
"Bro. Djinn don't live in that region. Plus, that was to scare it off."
"You contradicted yourself in the same sentence, but okay."
I rub my temples while they bicker. They're lazily just throwing words at each other. Put some heart into the argument at least, damn it.
"What's got you worked up, Lazy Lid?" Wall asks, the question thrown towards me..
"Excuse me?"
We're on a naming basis already?
"Sti, doesn't he look like he's about to fall asleep?"
His name is not that long for you to shorten it!
"First truth you've told in three days."
"Bro."
"?"
Wall looks personally offended. I presume he's most likely going to lash back at Stiyl's comment. As his mouth opens, I prepare for the incoming onslaught.
"...When a fly loses its wings, do we call it a walk?"
…
"I'd assume so."
There is nothing in these guys' brains but flies.
I mentally groan.
Okay, I've got a read on their personalities. But really, how are they this relaxed? Around us are boys curled into balls, crying; middle-aged men staring into the floor, thinking about their ruined lives, and the elderly just looking lost.
Alright. Time for the real questions.
"Erm, Wall."
"What's popping?"
"How'd you guys end up here?"
He gazes up for a second, his eyebrows furrowing.
"...We got attacked by seventy-five Kobolds. It was a long, drawn-out fight. Barely survived, but those goblins snagged us while we were recovering."
"It was three kobolds. And we weren't recovering, you just forgot to put out the fire when we slept, so they caught us." Stiyl corrects.
"That's what I said."
Right. Only listen to Stiyl. Noted.
"But seriously," Wall continues, "we're actually the newer prisoners here. The reason we're here at all is because our… erm, guild sent us to find the missing villagers from Varos.."
"And as you can see," Stiyl says, "we found out the hard way."
"—Ah."
Wall yawns, his hand lazily traveling to his mouth.
"It's not anything too crazy, though. The guards just came in a while ago and said we're going to be released shortly for some game."
My head perks up. The thing Tyrox mentioned. He wanted to challenge me to this said game. Chances are, it's going to be something hazardous if he's willing to release these prisoners.
"What do they even make you guys do down here?" I ask.
Their faces slightly stir. It's a small difference, but I take note.
"We're essentially breeding cattle," Wall says flatly.
"..."
"Sorry."
The state of affairs down here being so bleak suddenly makes a lot more sense. These people are being forced to… I can't even imagine.
"Goblins are asexual creatures, as well as being one of the only aberrations that can mate with Sapients, and actually create more powerful aberrations with them."
"..."
"..This is an extremely inappropriate question, but if I can ask, how does it work?"
"It's no problem," Stiyl says.
"Their mating is really strange. They feed you a seed, and you swallow it. After you spend hours retching, they'll pick up the contents and take them somewhere. From what I've seen at least."
"That is strange. I'm assuming you guys haven't..?"
"No."
"Nope."
The thought of these two being so calm crosses my mind once again.
"...Why aren't you guys nervous or anything? This seems like the kind of hopeless situation that anyone would go crazy over."
I wasn't planning on asking such a blunt question, but just seeing Wall yawn with such indifference earlier pushes me off the edge.
"..Hm, I guess it's because, well.."
He taps his chin.
"I'm not going to let everyone else's way of thinking affect mine, y'know?"
He waves his hand. "You're easily shaped by the surrounding area and the people you know, sure, but you've still got some semblance of individuality that you can uphold. It's really not that hard."
He adjusts his glasses.
"I'm me, and I alone have strength over whatever I do."
"I see."
He's got a good point, honestly. He's not being overly obnoxious or loud. He's just maintaining what I assume to be his regular personality simply because he's refusing to sink into despair. He is one, one is he.
In other words, he's refusing to give in to the norm and is exercising his individuality.
Stiyl chuckles.
"As for me, well. I guess it's because I've already been in situations like this." His head arches backward as he glances up. "
"Despair can really darken the ceiling, but as soon as a little white dot of hope comes in, it destroys it. It's the opposite for hope. A little despair can paint over hope, but it's almost hardly noticeable. I guess I've still got polka dots of hope, and that's what keeps me normal."
Well, those were surprisingly good answers.
"What about you? You don't seem particularly discouraged, despite you bringing it up constantly."
Stiyl asks me, addressing me, myself, and I.
I can't rely on Sable Veil, so answering: 'Oh, it's because my buddies'll bail me out' is out of the question.
"If I were to give my best answer, it's because I've already decided that I'm going to try and escape. As we speak right now, I'm thinking of ways to escape."
They both glance at each other.
"Oh, so you're one of those types. You don't despair because you actively refuse the state of current affairs and deny that you'll remain in them." He finishes.
"—Or in short, you already see the next step, even if it's blurry." Wall adds.
"Meh, I wouldn't say that…"
It's actually far from the truth. Really far.
Before I can give my input, a loud sound echoes throughout the room. Everyone's head quickly spins towards the sound, like deer in headlights.
The entrance to the room is wide open, with light scattering across the area.
Some scatter to random positions. A portion stands up, while some attempt to hide. I, however, have no idea what to do and remain in the same spot. Wall and Stiyl mirror this, their faces now laced with a stern attitude.
Thud, thud.
The sound of heavy footsteps down the stairs.
The pressure is enough to crush my bones. I can't help but feel an overwhelming sense of dread.
"Greetings, cattle.."
A deep voice, one whose rumbling shakes my core.
Tyrox.
Thud, thud.
He steps into view. He's easily ten feet tall, towering over all of us. He's massive. His face seems to be covered in armor-like bone, with the only semblance of an organism being the red glint in his eye sockets. His horns tower to the ceiling, almost impaling it, a testament to his menace.
What stands in front of me is a monster.
"I take it that you haven't been frolicking about while I was gone, now have you? I released you from your cells for only one day."
No answer.
He's here alone. If we all collectively decide to attack him, we could stand a chance. But that's an if. I doubt everyone here's going to risk their lives fighting that creature. If they do, they've clearly—
"—TYROX!!! I'LL NEVER FORGIVE YOU FOR WHAT YOU DID TO HER!!!"
My head turns to the source of the noise. Feet slap against the ground.
A man charges. He's got a face that seems to be comprised of a chitinous-like substance, finished with an antenna and mandibles. In his hand, he holds a large rock which had been chipped at the bottom.
Two goblins armed with spears run down the stairs, desperate to protect their leader.
What the hell is he doing? Tyrox is nearly five times his size, he'll–
"CRACK!!"
The sound rebounds off the walls, being particularly loud because of the size of the room. An echo slowly follows, then a scream.
"—-YAAGHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!"
The man, who had charged him, has a strange, large mass sticking out of his back. Azure blood pours down the wound, leaking as he falls to the ground. His back is now hunched outward unaturally, and foam erupts from his mandible like a mouth as he writhes in pain. There's a clear difference in how his upper body and lower body move, as if his upper body were hanging and loose.
I can't even tell what the hell happened.
The orc flicks the blood off his hand as he gazes at us.
"As you all know, I am strictly against violence with my own hands."
He gazes down at the writhing man.
"But had I not defended myself, he would have damaged me, so this is pure self-defense. You will never see me attacking another without a set reason. I am in the right here."
What the hell's he trying to say? Is he giving himself a justification for breaking a man's back? The fuck is he on about?
My canines press against each other.
Gasps erupt from the crowd.
"Now, I'm aware you all have heard rumors of a strange 'game' that was set to begin."
A beat of silence.
"It is true. A game will be set in this town where, depending on the results, it will determine if your people deserve to be released."
Gasps. Happy ones.
I look around the room. Some look confused, mostly as to why they would even be released in the first place, or why they'd play a game. Yet they can't question it, or risk getting killed, or worse. In essence, they've got no choice but to comply.
"There will be two teams. One consisting of 'my team,' which comprises my own soldiers, whose number will be three. And 'your team,' which will be four."
Behind him, the goblin guards stand vigilant, ready to pounce on anyone who dares defy Tyrox's orders. One stands, however, with his body at a strange angle.
His gaze travels to me, meeting my eyes.
"And your new arrival, Kaito, will be the captain."
My chest squeezes.
I feel gazes pierce into me. The weight of so many lives has just shifted onto my shoulders.
"The rules are similar to the game known as hide and seek. However, with some differences. Before the game, you will curse yourselves with spells that will kill you if you leave a set boundary. After that, you will proceed to find my soldiers, who are labeled with a certain insignia on their backs, which is up to you to figure out. When selecting a hiding spot, you must 'lock' onto it. If you take too long, you will be killed; if you choose wrong, you will be killed."
"You all have forty-five seconds to choose your four."
Chaos ensues as yelling begins.
"We've already got that kid, Jaito, he's one!"
"I'll go!"
"No, you're too stupid!"
Chatter erupts.
"I'll go," Wall says, his face resolute.
"Me too, I guess," Stiyl adds.
Twenty seconds.
I'm assuming that everyone here is fearing for their own lives, and they're all desperately waiting for someone else to offer up their own. I honestly can't blame them. That's just human nature. To preserve one's own life.
"—I'll… go."
A voice interrupts, and all heads move to the source. It's from the ground, strangely enough, and what we see is the same insectoid man, his back miraculously in shape, as if never damaged. He's still covered in blood, but no visible wounds are present anymore.
How's he already healed?
He places his hands on his knees and stands up next to me.
"You're surprisingly resilient," the orc begins.
"Ah, I forgot members of your race tend to regenerate faster," Tyrox states, his hands behind his back as he observes the insectoid.
The man does not respond, but stares at the orc despite their size difference.
"Now, all of you, place your hands in this contraption."
A goblin scurries toward us. He's small, no larger than Kyros. In his open palms lies a strange stone-like object in the shape of a ring. The hole is large enough for my hand.
Our team begins taking turns inserting their hands inside the object. Some wince.
When it's my turn, I take a little longer to analyze the object itself. It's jagged, even sharp. Strange writings are inscribed all over—
Something grabs my wrist.
"—Kh?!"
My hand is suddenly pushed inside the ring, and a feeling of sharp pain enters my body, causing me to wince. It feels like an injection at the doctor's office. The goblin holding the object had grabbed my arm and shoved it in.
Quickly pulling away, I grab my wrist, spinning my hand to shake off the pain. Damned thing.
"Well, without any ado, let the game—"
The large gate at the end of the room begins opening, a loud creak of rotten metal reverberating across the room. The sound itself is particularly loud, as if the thing hadn't been opened in years.
Light spills in like paint onto a canvas, eventually blinding me.
"Wait."
I finally say.
The hype that had slowly been building up shifts to me, as all eyes turn. Everyone has gone completely silent. The world has died for a moment and shed its light on me, the one who stands in the middle. Curiosity is the only emotion that runs rampant in this room at this moment.
"Hm?"
My arm raises upwards, aiming at something.
"...That soldier to your left. He's one of the hiders, isn't he?"
My eyes zero in on the goblin.
"?!"
Gasps erupt from the room. This crowd sure loves doing that.
"...Now, how could you have possibly been able to know that? The game has not started as well," Tyrox asks.
My finger points at the goblin.
"You never said the game had a starting point. If anything, the game's already started, hasn't it? Since you already have a hider. You just went ahead and explained the rules, but that doesn't mean anything."
"And as for your little friend, he's the only goblin here who has been consistently facing the other way. Normally, I'd dismiss it as him doing something, but upon closer inspection, he was just moving his arms, giving the illusion he was busy. That means he was hiding an insignia. Why would he risk coming down here? Hell, if I know. And even if you could say that was a baseless accusation, as I never changed angles to observe what he was actually doing, that side of the room—before he entered—was completely empty. Another defense could be that he removed something from his pocket, but he isn't wearing any pants. Only armor."
"And if it were small enough to be in his hands before he walked in, he wouldn't have been able to mess with an object that small with those exaggerated arm motions."
"....."
"And to top it all off, his wincing when I called it out was the icing on the cake. Not that I needed him to."
"And furthermore, that means the insignias themselves are red skulls."
And if I'm lucky enough, they're all located on the left arm. But I'm not saying that aloud.
"..."
The goblin behind Tyrox attempts to speak, raising its hands, but—
The sound of brain matter splattering against the wall erupts, blood and gore raining down onto the ground.
The corpse drops to the ground.
Tyrox himself had destroyed its head with the back of his fist. He doesn't like this one bit.
Murmuring erupts.
In the sea of people, my eyes lock on the orc's, who does the same. This isn't a game with other people, it's a game between him and me. He's trying to run a game of smarts, to prove a point that he's intellectually superior.
"Earlier, you said you were against violence with your own hands. That means you're more of a tactical person. Let's say that's your game."
"Now, hypothetically, what'll happen if someone beats you at your own game? Would you resort to hitting them?"
The orc stays silent.
Smart move.
He's smart. This isn't some fantastical battle, but a battle nonetheless. Our wits are going to be measured against each other. The giant demon against the small boy.
This is his world now; everything here moves according to his will.
My palm squeezes into a fist as I raise it.
"I will crush you, Tyrox."
Good thing I'm not from this world.