"You know what you have to do," I growled, each word a barb driven deeper, voice colder than the wind threading the leaves overhead. My glare pinned him to the tree, sharper than any blade.
The pig goblin slumped against the tree, still lashed tight by the Twisted tree roots. Bruises bloomed in ugly purples across his snout, his breaths short and ragged, but stubborn embers still glimmered behind swollen eyes. Before he could lick his chapped lips, he'd already spilled Gelemia's whereabouts.
Every word from his filthy mouth set my blood to a boil, legs tensed to dash in and raze the village stone by stone. But before impulse could tip me over the edge, But Erin's silent guidance hooked into my mind.
"We can use this creature," Erin whispered, his words as quiet and precise as a scalpel. "Have him cause a ruckus. Let the pig goblins chase after smoke, while we slip in and cut Gelemia free."
His tone allowed no argument. My pulse pounded thunderous and raw, my stare pinned to the pig goblin, who trembled in his bonds, shame leaking from every pore.
"Hey, you!" My bark snapped like a whip as I whirled toward him, letting fury carry every syllable.
He whimpered, pride drowning in snot and pain. "H-haven't I already told you where she is?" he managed, voice sandpaper-rough. "Can't you just... let me go...?"
My head moved in a slow, final denial, teeth clamped so hard my skull ached. No mercy would find him in my stare, and that's when fate delivered. Out of the river's murk, a giant frog leapt forth, its emerald skin glossy, lamp-bright eyes swiveling. It gave a booming, world-weary croak, somehow grounding us in the middle of dread.
The pig's wary gaze locked onto the frog. Sparks flickered in my thoughts. Moving slow, I scooped up the frog, cradling it gently, careful not to startle our unexpected ally. Holding it just so, I made sure the goblin saw every move.
"Imagine yourself... as this frog," I murmured, voice ice over steel.
He swallowed, throat twitching, eyes wide with terror and sudden, complete understanding.
With practiced precision, I conjured another Black Sphere, this one no bigger than a ripe blackberry. My fingers eased the frog's mouth open, coaxing gently. Then, with deliberate care, I placed the orb inside, making sure the little creature didn't choke or spit it back out. Each motion calculated, each second a silent threat.
The frog remained utterly unfazed, as if it had swallowed stranger things in its own twisted corner of the jungle. Its vocal sac puffed up, and its voice harsh.
"What do you want now?" The pig goblin's reply cracked, fraying at the edges with fatigue.
"All I need is a little help and let's not kid ourselves, storming in alone would be suicide, wouldn't it?" I said, my gaze locked on him. "So you come with me. Distract your friends when I go for Gelemia. Simple."
"Nonsense!" he spat, flecks of saliva glinting as anger despair tangled in his every breath. "You know I've already been cast out by my tribe, that's why I hunt alone in this stink-ridden forest! Even if I raise hell in that village, it won't matter. They're deaf to me now, except when they're hungry and in need of a chew toy!"
I exhaled, a long, heavy breath, as if trying to iron the storm brewing in my chest. Slowly, deliberately, I extended my hand, pointing at the trembling frog squatting in the mud, its glassy eyes reflecting the outline of my own, warped and wavering.
"This frog… is you," I murmured, voice low.
As if guided by an invisible thread, my hand expanded, tracing each furrow of fear etched across the pig goblin's face. The frog began to swell, not just its throat sac ballooning with another croak, but its entire body, legs, belly, the whole creature bloated out as if caught in a silent scream. No sound came. Only a brutal, devouring hush.
In the next heartbeat, the frog exploded, skin and guts bursting outward, pelting my face and splattering the goblin with hot blood and slick, visceral fragments. For a moment, the world froze, tinted crimson and coated with a film of slime.
I lifted the black sphere, now no bigger than a pill. My next words dropped like lead: "Now… swallow this." One sentence, one command.
***
The pig shuffled forward, slow and silent, back bent beneath an invisible weight, each step a reluctant wish for the day to never come. From afar, the village elder still perched atop the makeshift altar, droning his sermon while a sea of pig goblins lay prostrate, groveling at his every word.
And finally, the poor, broken thing edged up beside the cart of Hibakujumoku leaf. I watched every twitch, every nervous hitch in his shoulders, uncertainty clinging to his form like a cold shadow. Every so often, he cast a furtive backward glance my way, his breath rasping like a rough stone rolling down a cliff.
In that instant, I raised my hand overhead. My palm unfurled silently, but that pig flinched all the same, a shudder running through him. He whimpered as his body swelled, just a hair, the surge of foreign magic prickling beneath his flesh.
He waved his hands in frantic surrender, a desperate plea for mercy or perhaps just for respite. I snapped my palm shut, firm and final, and relief washed over his face, his breath caught and released.
Time itself seemed to stretch thin. He steadied his breathing, tucking his unease behind locked teeth, jaw clamped so tight it could snap. With trembling fingers, he fumbled with a pair of rough stones, knocking them together in awkward rhythm, testing, coaxing for a spark.
Nothing, just a dry scrape, dust hissing in the hush, that sound rasping like the ghost of a blade through old bones.
He tried again, harder this time, frustration twisting his mouth. The stones struck, a fleeting spark leapt, so tiny it nearly vanished before the eye could catch it. But the attempt wasn't quiet enough. Nearby goblins, loitering by the cart, pricked their ears, suspicious frowns gathering under bristling brows as the odd noise grated through the reverent drone of the ceremony.
The cart's guard, who'd been sulking at the far end, half asleep on his feet, suddenly perked up, his head snapping around, sweat beading on his brow, suspicion etched deep in the furrows of his face. Step by slow, deliberate step, he began to circle the cart, his gaze fixed, wary and predatory.
"Hey! What's going on over there—?" he barked, his shout slicing through the muffled hum of snouts and prayers.
But that pig, trapped between terror and surrender, couldn't stop himself, could only keep striking flint to stone, courting disaster with shaking hands. The guard surged forward, feet kicking up dirt, eyes wide with dawning horror.
"Stop! Stop it—!" he shouted, but the damage had already unfurled. A single ember flicked from the stones, landing deep among the piles of Hibakujumoku leaves. In a blink, flames licked upwards, hungry and relentless, bathing every goblin face in blinding orange light.
"We're dead—we're all dead," the guard groaned, despair curling thick as the smoke billowing into the sky.
In mere heartbeats, the fire roared, devouring the leaves, bleeding oily black smoke that writhed and twisted on the wind. The goblin crowd staggered to their senses, panic flaring as chaos streamed from every throat.
"What's that smoke?!"
"Hey—that's coming from the Hibakujumoku cart!"
"What? It's burning? That's our whole month's harvest, you idiot!" screeched a deep-eyed goblin, his fury drowned in the rising cacophony.
"Who set the fire?!" Shouts rippled through the night, stripping away every last shroud of silence. The pig goblins, those once kneeling in solemn worship, now scattered in a frantic stampede toward the smoke, terror twisting veins across their thick necks, eyes wild and rolling.
The chief decked out in furs, dignity, and a rising tide of fury, watched the disaster unfold, a thousand worry lines carved deep across his brow. He vaulted down from the altar, hair flying wild as tangled brush in a storm. "What are you doing over there? Move! Douse that smoke before it's too late!" he snarled, feet squelching into the mud as his aged body trembled with the weight of his anger.
But fate had already packed her bags and fled the scene. Smoke spooled high into the night, thick and defiant, spinning upward in greedy, swirling plumes. The scent cloying, sharp as scorched vanilla, carried on the wind, riding all the way up to the stars. The elder's eyes went black and bottomless, swallowing all hope, when he caught sight of the culprit.
None other than Crokard, one of his own.
"Crokard!" The elder's roar split the air, rattling every bone in the square. He seized a fistful of Crokard's matted hair, yanking him forward with a snarl. "Have you lost your mind, Crokard?! What have you done, you fool!"
But Crokard merely smiled, a bitter, broken thing, his tusks glinting inches from the licking flames. All around, jeers erupted like wildfire, slashing the air with ridicule and outrage.
"Isn't that… the freak, Crokard?"
"No way! He burned the ceremony sacred leaves?"
"Madman! The whole ceremony's ruined because of him?!"
The mob's cry turned savage, old grudges fanned into blazing fury.
"Burn him!"
"Burn the freak!"
Crokard collapsed to the ground as the elder flung him aside. At once, the goblin horde swarmed him, kicking, punching, trampling, a writhing wave of violence. Still, Crokard only laughed, his wild, shattered laugh shattering the night, echoing louder than the blows.
The elder stood apart, stunned, caught adrift between confusion. "Why, Crokard? Why do this?" he whispered, voice brittle as dry grass.
Crokard's only answer was more laughter, bitter, and bottomless.
"This is what you deserve!" Crokard shrieked between fists and boots. "You call me a freak? Pig-headed fools, you're crazier than I ever was!"
"What's he saying? Bastard child!"
"Kill him!" came the answering roar as a storm of blows and curses crashed down, the mob uniting as one feral voice.