"Well, we can't stay here. Someone might stroll by. Get on my back."
The frail little thing climbed up slowly, practically weightless. He barely felt the strain. The kid was near death. He needed food, fast.
"Hey, boi. Where's a good place to hide?"
The goblin weakly pointed toward a small shed. No signs of traps or patrols nearby.
He entered carefully, checking every corner.
The room was dusty and dark—nothing but an old brown table, cracked and worn. Someone had pushed it against the door like a barricade.
He set the goblin down and sat, exhausted.
"Ahh... this is tiring. Hey, what's your name?"
"Zi... Zigmo," came the weak reply.
"Zigmo, huh? Nice to meet you. You must be starving. Let's eat."
He dug through his bag and pulled out a ham leg, offering it carefully.
Zigmo took bites slowly. With each one, he grew visibly stronger—inch by inch, pound by pound.
"There, there. Eat up."
"You looked like you needed it."
Suddenly, Zigmo jumped up and bowed deeply.
"Th-thank you, kind sir! For restoring my strength. Pl-please—"
"Relax, you're too hyper. Just eat."
But his face grew serious, concern settling in.
"What happened to your mom?"
Zigmo's eyes darkened, hardened beyond his years. He sat back down slowly.
"She's being held by the elders."
"Why? What happened?"
"When she was young... she was the village idol. The elders wanted her—her body, her voice. But she chose a simple warrior, my father. They fell in love."
He swallowed hard.
"But the elders forced him to fight endless wars until he died."
"Since then... they've been tormenting us. They even kidnapped her."
Zigmo's voice cracked.
"I tried to fight back, but their army is too strong. They poisoned me—that's why I was so weak."
"The poison was fast... nearly killed me. They've been hunting me for weeks. Please... please help me save my mother."
Josen poundered, is it worth it?
Shoild I help him?
I mean I do need to kill more goblins?
and taking over the goblin dungeon will make me grow stronger?
But is it worth it?
can he even fight?
"Heyy boi, can you fight?"
"Uh,um yes sir"
As he took a deep bow, josen couldn't help but notice how ridiculously well mannered he was, he couldn't sense any form of bloodlust form him but he could feel his strength
"Ok what's Ur weapon of choice"
"Well im pretty good with a bow"
A bow huh that's would be quite though
"Well I don't have a bow and arrow that isn't in my skillset so we gonna have to take one from an orc or something, ok?"
"Ok I'll strap my bag and let's go"
As he gripped the bag he felt on of those orbs, he pulled one out and examined it was a blue colour with a particular pattern a white crescent with two dots
He felt like asking grandpa but didn't want to do it Infront of someone he barely knows not knowing how tmzigmo would react
"I've got my daggers out you ready?"
He raised his hand slightly as he slowly click the door open, hunched over and slowly tiptoeing across the walls tracing his hand around it suddenly an orc walk by then just narrowly missing the if only it turn around before he could give other zigmo had pounced, snapping the neck of the fallen goblin
What?, how is he that fast even I could even precive how fast he was , I need to keep a closer eye on him
"Let's head to the shrine"
"Shrine??",
I wonder what constellation the goblins serve
The torchlight flickered.
Josen stepped into the chamber, and for a moment, even the air seemed to bow.
At the far end of the room stood four towering statues—ancient, cracked, and pulsing with a malevolent presence that made Zigmo flinch.
"Ok let's se—", his words were caught in his throat these definitely weren't constelations there where four of them
Four statues all towering, ancient, cracked and portraying manovelant pressure, it was so strong he felt like he could implode just from it's prescenes
Josen stepped forward, his shadow stretching across the cold stone.
The four statues loomed like gods long forgotten—twisted mockeries of something ancient. Each one radiated a foul pressure, their faces worn and cracked, but unmistakably cruel. One bore a jagged blade, another clutched a broken orb. The third had dozens of arms, each clutching a screaming face. The last... stared directly at Zigmo.
He flinched, staggering back.
"Zigmo? You good?"
He didn't reply.
His eyes locked with the statue. Something clawed into his mind—a low hum, a whisper that sounded like "Your fault... your fault... you let her be taken..."
A cage formed in his mind. Steel bars of guilt, fear, and weakness. The same cage the elders had locked him in.
"Zigmo!" Josen grabbed his shoulder—but it was too late.
From behind the statue, two shadows flickered into view.