The first spell shattered the dawn.
A column of blue-white fire erupted from the mage's staff, arcing over the heads of the goblins and humans alike. Trees exploded into splinters, and the ground buckled, sending both sides scrambling for cover. Ren, pressed flat against the moss, felt the heat singe the air above him. For a heartbeat, no one moved.
Then chaos erupted.
The humans, caught between the goblins and the mage, shouted orders and drew their weapons. The goblins, eyes wide with terror, hesitated only a moment before charging, their shrill war cries echoing through the trees. The mage, his face hidden beneath a hood, raised his staff again, but this time the spell fizzled—a flicker of light, then nothing. He cursed and fell back, melting into the shadows.
Ren's senses sharpened. He could feel the panic and rage radiating from both sides, the sharp tang of blood already in the air. He had no time to think. Instinct took over.
A human swordsman broke from the melee, slashing at a goblin child who had stumbled in the confusion. Ren surged forward, his form rippling with acid. He struck the man's leg, and the acid hissed, eating through leather and flesh in seconds. The man screamed—a high, animal sound—and collapsed, clutching his melting limb.
Ren recoiled, horror and triumph warring within him. The acid was more powerful than he had ever used before. It clung to the man's skin, bubbling and smoking, devouring muscle and bone. The man's screams grew hoarse, then faded to whimpers. He tried to crawl away, leaving a trail of smoking blood, but Ren could see the life draining from his eyes.
Other goblins swarmed the fallen human, stabbing with crude knives and spears. The man's body convulsed, then stilled. The goblins cheered, their fear replaced by bloodlust.
Ren turned away, bile rising in what passed for his throat. He had killed before—animals, monsters, even the odd predator—but this was different. This was a person. He forced himself to remember the words he'd overheard: no survivors. They would have shown no mercy.
Another human, the young woman with the bow, loosed an arrow at Grik. The leader dodged, but the arrow grazed his arm, drawing a thin line of blood. Grik roared and charged, his spear flashing. The woman nocked another arrow, but Ren was faster. He slid across the ground, latching onto her boot with a sticky pseudopod. She kicked, but his acid ate through the leather, seeping into her skin.
She screamed, dropping her bow and clawing at her leg. The acid spread, blackening the flesh, sending up clouds of acrid smoke. She tried to crawl away, but Ren held fast, his grip unyielding. Her screams grew frantic, then desperate, then finally faded into sobs.
Grik finished her with a thrust of his spear. The goblins whooped, raising their weapons in triumph.
The mage reappeared at the edge of the clearing, his staff crackling with energy. He shouted a word of power, and a bolt of lightning arced toward Ren. Ren dodged, but the bolt struck a nearby goblin, sending the creature flying. The mage raised his staff again, but a goblin hurled a stone, striking him in the temple. The mage staggered, and Grik seized the opportunity, driving his spear through the man's chest.
The mage gasped, blood bubbling from his lips. He tried to speak, but only a gurgle emerged. Grik twisted the spear, and the mage fell, his staff clattering to the ground.
The last human, a burly man with a battleaxe, fought like a cornered beast. He felled two goblins with sweeping blows, his face twisted in rage and terror. Ren circled him, waiting for an opening. The man turned, eyes wild, and swung the axe at Ren. The blade passed through his form, but Ren lashed out, splattering acid across the man's arm.
The man howled, dropping the axe as the acid ate through muscle and sinew. He fell to his knees, clutching the ruined limb. Ren hesitated, but the memory of the goblin child—the almost-victim—spurred him on. He pressed himself against the man's chest, releasing a wave of acid.
The man's screams were short and sharp. The acid worked quickly, dissolving flesh and bone, leaving only a smoking, twitching husk. The goblins watched in awe and horror, their cheers muted.
The clearing fell silent, save for the crackle of burning leaves and the ragged breaths of the survivors. The humans were dead. The goblins had won.
But it did not feel like victory.
Ren withdrew to the edge of the clearing, his form trembling. He watched as the goblins looted the bodies, stripping them of weapons and armor, arguing over the spoils. Grik approached, blood splattered across his face.
"You strong," he said, clapping Ren on the back. "You save tribe. You one of us."
Ren nodded, but inside, he felt hollow. The memory of the humans' screams haunted him. He tried to remind himself of their intent—no survivors—but the violence lingered, a stain he could not wash away.
The goblins celebrated late into the day, feasting on what little food they had, boasting of their victory. Ren sat apart, watching the smoke rise into the sky. He wondered if any other humans would come, searching for their lost companions. He wondered if he had made the right choice.
As night fell, the system interface flickered before his eyes.
Title Earned: Tribe's Defender
Skill Upgraded: Acidic Touch (Lv.2)
Skill Unlocked: Fear Aura (Lv.1)
He accepted the power, but it felt like ashes in his mouth.
He drifted away from the camp, seeking solace in the quiet of the forest. He found a stream and watched the water flow, the moonlight dancing on its surface. He replayed the battle in his mind—the screams, the acid, the look in the humans' eyes as they died.
He wondered what he had become.
He remembered his human life, the friends he had lost, the dreams he had abandoned. He wondered if any of them would recognize him now, or if they would see only a monster.
He thought of the goblins—their laughter, their fear, their gratitude. He had saved them, but at what cost?
He closed his senses, retreating into himself. The system pulsed softly, offering comfort, offering power.
He ignored it.
He did not know how long he sat there, lost in thought. The forest was quiet, the only sound the gentle rush of water over stone.
A twig snapped behind him.
He turned, senses alert. A figure stepped from the shadows—a goblin, smaller than the others, eyes wide with fear.
"Ren?" the goblin whispered. "You… okay?"
Ren hesitated, then nodded. "Just… thinking."
The goblin sat beside him, silent for a long time. Finally, it spoke.
"You save us. You strong. But… you sad."
Ren looked at the goblin, seeing not a monster, but a child—frightened, uncertain, alone.
"I did what I had to," Ren said softly. "But it wasn't easy."
The goblin nodded, understanding more than Ren expected.
"Hard things… make us strong. But also… make us hurt."
Ren smiled, a small, sad smile. "Yes. They do."
They sat together in silence, watching the moon rise higher. Ren felt the weight of his choices, the burden of survival.
He knew there would be more battles, more pain, more hard decisions. But for now, he was not alone.
As dawn approached, Ren returned to the camp. The goblins greeted him with cheers and laughter, but he saw the fear in their eyes—the knowledge that their survival depended on violence, that their safety was bought with blood.
He wondered how long he could protect them, how long he could hold onto his own humanity.
He wondered what he would become when the next battle came.
The system interface flickered again, a new message glowing in the darkness.
Warning: Hostile Forces Detected Nearby
Ren's heart sank. The war was not over. It had only just begun