The dark cell of Dwarven prison smelled bad, like old water and rotten wood. The air was heavy and hard to breathe. There was only one small ventilator high on the wall. A thin line of weak light came through it, barely touching the cold stone floor. The rest of the room was covered in shadow.
From the ceiling, something round was hanging.
It looked like a giant cocoon made from thick thread. The threads were white and tightly wrapped, forming a strong, soft ball. It swayed gently back and forth in the still air.
Inside it was Gobta.
Gobta, a short hobgoblin with purple spiky hair and a round, goofy face, was trapped inside what Rimuru-sama had called "Bagworm Hell." It was round in shape, made from strong thread, wrapped around him like a hanging nest.
This was the punishment Rimuru-sama had given him. It was called "Bagworm Hell."
Even though the name sounded scary, it did not hurt at all. The thread was soft against his body. It did not cut into his skin. It did not squeeze him too tightly. In fact, it felt strangely comfortable, like being wrapped in a warm blanket.
At first, Gobta had tried to escape. He twisted his body. He pulled with all his strength. He even tried to tear the threads apart. But no matter how hard he struggled, the threads would only stretch a little and then pull him back. They never snapped. They were strong and unbreakable.
When he moved too much, the whole cocoon would swing wildly from side to side. It would sway across the dark cell like a hanging lantern in the wind. After some time, he stopped fighting. He realized it was useless.
Now he just hung there quietly, rocking slowly.
The worst part was not the cell. Not the smell. Not even being tied up.
The worst part was being left behind.
Rimuru-sama had gone out to the night shop with the others. Gobta imagined the bright lights, the warm food, and the cheerful laughter. He could almost hear them having fun without him.
His round face puffed slightly in disappointment.
He also wanted to go.
The cocoon swayed gently again.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
He wanted to go too.
That thought returned again and again, circling his mind the way he himself circled the room whenever he swung too hard.
Still, Gobta was not one to surrender immediately. After resting for a moment—purely to "regain strength," of course—he gave Bagworm Hell a few more honest attempts. He flexed. He twisted. He tried a sudden dramatic jerk he was fairly sure looked impressive from the outside.
The cocoon stretched slightly.
Then it pulled him back into place with gentle, unshakable confidence.
Gobta swung forward.
Then backward.
Then forward again.
After a while, the struggle turned into a slow, lazy rocking. The cell creaked softly with each pass. It was, in a strange way… peaceful.
Since escape seemed unlikely—very unlikely, almost heroically unlikely—Gobta decided to try something smarter. He closed his eyes and focused, attempting to summon his partner, the Storm Fanged Wolf. Surely his loyal companion would come charging in and dramatically rescue him from this unfair, thread-based injustice.
He concentrated.
Nothing.
He tried again, this time with more seriousness.
Still nothing.
After several increasingly desperate attempts, he stopped and blinked at the darkness.
"…Ah."
Right. That kind of summoning wasn't so simple. Even Captain Rigurd couldn't just casually call a partner across any distance at will.
Gobta puffed his cheeks.
"Rimuru-sama is really stingy… I only had a little sleep," he grumbled under his breath.
Honestly, this was excessive. He had barely dozed off on their boring discussion. Barely.
He shifted slightly inside the cocoon.
Still… it didn't hurt. The threads were soft. They didn't itch. They didn't squeeze. If anything, it felt like being suspended in a snug hammock made by someone who was mildly disappointed in you.
"It's free time now," he muttered to himself.
Since it wasn't painful and he couldn't escape, there was no reason to waste energy. He could treat this as… enforced rest. Strategic rest. Yes, that sounded much better.
He swayed gently in the darkness.
"I should just wait until Rimuru-sama comes back tomorrow. Surely he'll let me down."
He nodded to himself, as much as one could nod while fully cocooned.
"I just need to be patient this night."
And in the quiet cell, Gobta began practicing the most difficult skill of all:
Waiting.
...
It was strange.
One day had passed… and Rimuru-sama still hadn't returned.
At first, Gobta wasn't worried. They were probably just enjoying themselves.
"…They probably stayed somewhere else," Gobta told himself, trying to nod but mostly just swaying.
Still.
His stomach growled.
Honestly… he was hungry.
"I wish they'd come back soon…" he muttered into the soft threads, staring at the thin slice of light on the wall as if it might answer him.
…
By the third day, however, even Gobta's optimistic imagination began to crumble.
Rimuru-sama and the others still hadn't returned.
Now he was worried.
But—
"This isn't the time to worry about them!" he suddenly declared to himself.
Because at this very moment, Gobta was facing a crisis far more immediate.
Hunger was troublesome, yes.
But there was something even more serious.
Something urgent.
"Pi—"
"Gorogorogoro..."
"My stomach hurrrts…"
Gobta froze.
He had been bravely enduring his need to pee. A true warrior could withstand such trials. But now… something larger was approaching. Something inevitable.
His mental strength had been tested by countless battles, by harsh training, by Rimuru-sama's punishments.
But this?
This was different.
Below him, on the parlor floor of the room where he hung so tragically, lay a carpet. A very fine carpet.
If the floor had been stone, perhaps he could have accepted his fate as a warrior fallen in disgrace.
But a carpet?
If he defiled that carpet… Kaijin-san would definitely explode with rage.
Gobta swallowed hard.
"Rimuru-sama always says toilets and baths are unnecessary… like he doesn't really care," Gobta reasoned desperately. "So maybe… maybe he won't get mad if I… you know… defile the room?"
Even as he said it, he knew.
This was a critical situation.
A legendary crisis.
"…I should do something…"
He wriggled slightly.
"W-wait—dangerous—!"
The moment he struggled, the motion transferred to the threads. The cocoon began swaying back and forth, wider and wider, like a pendulum counting down to disaster.
In this situation, catastrophe was only a matter of time.
He couldn't cut the thread.
He couldn't summon help.
Rimuru-sama and the others were nowhere to be seen.
It was irritating—doing nothing.
For a while now, greasy sweat had been sliding down Gobta's temples. His vision blurred. The gentle swaying that had once been almost relaxing now felt like mockery.
He had tried everything.
"There's no way out…" he muttered weakly. "I've done everything…"
He let his head droop.
—I give up—
No.
Wait.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, a memory stirred. A mechanical, almost heavenly voice echoing in his thoughts:
『If you don't like it, go ask for help and summon your partner or something.』
He had ignored it before. Captain Rigurd couldn't summon under difficult conditions—so how could he? Gobta wasn't exactly the shining example of goblin excellence.
But now?
"…I have no choice," he whispered.
Closing his eyes, he focused with everything he had left.
"I summon you—!"
This time, he didn't shout dramatically.
He begged.
For a second, nothing happened.
Then—
A black cloud of smoke bloomed beneath him, spreading across the floor like spilled ink. It curled upward, thick and heavy. As it slowly cleared, a majestic wolf stood where the smoke had been.
Its fur was deep black with a faint purplish sheen, like storm clouds reflecting twilight. Its sharp eyes gleamed with intelligence.
Gobta blinked.
Once.
Twice.
"…Eh?"
It took a moment for his mind to catch up. He hadn't truly believed it would work.
Then realization struck.
"Partner! You came!" Gobta shouted, his voice echoing in the dark cell. "If you didn't come any later, it would've become a serious problem!"
The Storm Fanged Wolf tilted its head slightly, as if puzzled.
Truthfully, even Gobta didn't understand. He hadn't felt any response before. No connection. Nothing.
Perhaps it was because the desperate call had finally broken through. Perhaps after everything he'd endured—the hunger, the waiting, the swinging humiliation—his mental strength had reached its absolute limit and forced the bond to respond.
Whatever the reason—
The wolf stepped forward and sank its sharp fangs into the thick threads.
The cocoon resisted. The threads stretched stubbornly, as if unwilling to admit defeat. But with growls and repeated bites, the wolf tore through layer after layer.
At last—
Riiip.
Fresh air rushed in.
Gobta tumbled out in a most unheroic heap onto the floor.
"Freedom…" he breathed, nearly in tears.
There was no time to celebrate.
He scrambled onto the wolf's back.
"Go!"
The wolf moved like a shadow given life. In seconds they slipped past the edges of the Dwarven Kingdom.
Only when they were safely outside did Gobta jump down.
He simply ran a short distance away—
And finally answered nature's desperate call.
Author's Note: This is the part where they went to the Dwarven Kingdom, and this is one of Gobta's notable achievements among the goblins that set him apart, so I felt like this was the right place to start. If you like the story idea or have any thoughts about it, please comment.