Chapter 3 – The Green Body
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That was the first thing Altair felt. A suffocating void, damp and heavy, pressing against his lungs like soil. His ears rang, his body sluggish, as though every ounce of strength had been stripped away.
Slowly, his eyelids fluttered open. A faint orange glow flickered against rough stone walls. The smell of smoke and damp earth invaded his nose. He blinked, vision unsteady, the world trembling as though it too had just been born anew.
"Where… am I? Didn't I… die?"
His hand twitched instinctively, reaching for the sword that had always been at his side. But what he saw froze his breath.
A small, frail hand. Skin green and mottled. Fingers stubby and crooked, tipped with blackened claws.
Heart pounding, he touched his face. A flattened nose, long pointed ears, jagged little fangs jutting from his lips. When his tongue brushed against them, he tasted iron.
He staggered toward a puddle of water trickling down the cave wall. The reflection staring back at him was no hero, no human.
It was the twisted visage of a green goblin child—the lowest of the low.
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Altair collapsed, the weight of realization crushing him harder than any hammer blow. Memories of betrayal surged, tearing open wounds that death had not erased:
Alice's cold smile as she pierced his heart. Luthien's arrow in his back. Thror's laughter as his hammer fell. Mugnash's betrayal, Cheka's claws ripping into his flesh.
"Impossible… I, Altair—the hero of mankind… to die, only to be reborn as this filth?!"
His voice cracked, echoing through the cavern. Not tears of sorrow, but tears of hatred wet his face.
Around him, guttural voices snarled. Other goblins turned, eyes glinting in the firelight. Some sneered, some sniffed the air, others stared at him as though he were nothing more than meat.
A hulking goblin lumbered forward, shoving him roughly to the ground. Laughter erupted from the others, cruel and mocking.
Altair clenched his fists. "This body may be weak, but I am still Altair. I still have my mind… and my vengeance. I will not break."
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The First Defiance
The goblin raised its hand to slash at him.
Instinct flared—instinct honed in countless battles. Altair twisted aside, sinking his small fangs into the brute's arm.
"Gyaaaaghhh!" The goblin roared, green blood spraying from the wound.
Altair staggered back, barely able to stay on his feet. His chest heaved, his tiny frame trembling. But his eyes—his eyes burned, not with fear, but with the fire of a wolf.
"Grrhh…" he growled, voice feral yet steady. "I am no prey. I am the hunter."
For a moment, the cavern stilled. The other goblins exchanged wary glances. He was small, weak—but his presence was different. Alien. Dangerous.
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Altair dragged himself to a corner of the den, his body aching, mouth stained with blood—his and theirs. But deep within, a bitter satisfaction flickered.
"This body is pathetic. But my soul is unchanged. I am still Altair."
He stared at his green hands, shaking, frail. "I will turn these hands into weapons. I will turn this cursed body into calamity."
The others watched from a distance, some snarling, some silent. But none dared approach again that night.
Altair closed his eyes, letting pain sink deep into his bones. Behind his eyelids, Alice's face returned, her smile sharper than any blade.
"Alice… you think I am finished. But I will return. And I will make you weep blood."
In the darkness of the Forbidden Forest's cave, a new vow was born—not the vow of a hero, but of a goblin who would one day shake the world.
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