A soft static floated in the Queen's mind and forced tranquility onto her like a smiling clown plummeting to his death. Forced smiles and silent screams. The splattering of blood covered her eyes and the throne room, how many had she killed in the pursuit of power? She could see the bodies, the piles of them and not a single name between their shoulders and indecipherable bodies. Sometimes she'd see a glow of orange when their newborn eyes would pool with their blood as it rejected the ritual. She told herself she was doing this for them, that she had to or they would all die like her family before them, but she.. She didn't let her eyes betray her. Her fangs did not bare and her skin did not quake.
She was the Queen. The blood drenched Queen, her army, her kingdom would spread across the forest and build a home for all goblins and not one would get in her way. No Reptilian, No orc and no dirty human. No creature among the heavens, earth or hell would stop her. So more would be born and more would evolve and more would fight. Because only the strong would be worthy of love. Only the strong would survive long enough to feel it.
Michael patiently looked into her crimson eyes searching for an ounce of emotion or a sign of weakness. She was cold inside and out, even her moment of doubt could not shake her exterior or conviction. Michael waited for her blood to touch his lips and pool into him, he wondered how it felt, whether the pain would come close to his throes of death and he could not wait to see where it would take him.
Finally their eyes met, The Queen took a look into his intelligent eyes and brought her finger above his lips. A single drop was all it took for the pain to start, he witnessed it happen to every single one before him and heard the screams and joyfully watched as their tiny heads exploded from the force. However not a single thought was of his failure. He knew pain, he knew the pain of every day not being who you really are, holding a fake smile, pretending to be the perfect son and every day waiting for his chance. He knew rage and sadness as everything fell around him and pure desire filled it's place. For power and for revenge. Now all that remains after his death is that desire.
He let the blood consume him as it spread like blooming red flowers to every cell in his tiny green body. He closed his eyes in the silence of the room and watched the Queen's droplet squirm through his skin. It was a single pin prick of warmth on his lips, until it dug deeper and deeper and deeper into him. Only seconds passed until it was a dull knife wound wherever it touched. He let it dig still and watched it enter every vein and muscle, until it had seeped into his bones, dying them a deep red. He could not help but smile in a vile arrogance drowning in his grandeur. He would be the best, he had to be.
Even the queen noticed this, and wondered exactly who birthed such a child that could be smiling amongst so much pain.
Michael wondered if this vision was a delusion, a symptom of his madness, his inability to conform to anything, but then it reached his heart. He felt it claw into him and for a moment he wanted it to stop. He begged for it not to reach deeper, to not look inside of him and at everything he was. Not at the weakness, but he knew what this was. Fear turned into surprise and humility. He felt an energy that was deep within the red flower, felt it pull him forward into darkness and remembered those white claws that held his soul after death. He remembered that touch and the cold he felt in death. Beautiful. He thought.
All the pain that filled him pulsed with his beating heart. Each beat of his heart became a loud sounding of pain. It cycled through him and washed him away, until it faded into nothingness, into darkness and chaos.
He screamed louder than every single goblin in that room, but not out of pain, out of triumph. He had won and he was tired.
Michael opened his eyes to a room as big and grand as the throne and hundreds upon hundreds of goblins sleeping and fighting. He noticed quickly that he was no longer a child, by the fact he was fully grown, or at least to a height close to his on Earth. However he was nothing like the guards or those special ones. He was simply normal, not super thin and not super tall, he did not have grey skin or long claws. He looked around the room and saw he was no different from most of them. A good portion of them were the size of the guards but for the most part they were generally between 1 meter and just under 1 1/2 meters tall. It was then he got curious, he quickly looked around the room like a rabid animal.
He pushed off the ground and rushed forward shoving past other goblins and moving too quickly to bother to listen to their shouts. Too quickly to notice he understood them.
He rushed past several rings where he noticed goblins sparring and spilling blood. Some held training swords, spears and some fought hand to hand using their claws as weapons. For once he couldn't bother about blood being spilt. His curiosity had to be satiated. Finally he reached to what looked like a dining area and grabbed a large shiny copper dish. To him it resembled a wok and It was obvious this was used for big meals for the trainees but he didn't care about that. It would act as the perfect mirror for the time being.
"Fuck I'm ugly.." At first Michael couldn't help but get distracted by his monstrous appearance, something he had trouble recognizing as his own but before he could dissociate, he searched for proof. His eyes wandered his face until they landed within each other. Michael brought the wok closer and looked deeper into his reflection seeing a light red glow around his pupil. He had passed, and far better than all those weak children.
Michael had remembered the first time he had ever truly been recognized for his strength and skill. He had trained for months to compete in a mixed martial arts tournament. His parents spared no expense in belittling him but provided him with coaches that were known across the world. He had shed blood and sweat for months to achieve something he could be proud of, and after fighting through the ranks he won. He remembered the strain in his cheeks at 14 winning a tournament of strength and skill and how quickly it all fell away from his fathers sneer.
He didn't have his father to ruin this for him here. That would be good enough to smile.
"Hey, You." Three larger goblins stood menacingly behind Michael interrupting his moment of recollection. His thoughts quickly collected into the reflection. He looked at their distorted images to get a rough grasp of them. The one directly behind him was a foot taller than him and had the same build as the guards. Covered in rippling muscles, resembling orcs more than goblins. The other two stood just slightly behind him on either side, following some strange group dynamic he was going to use to his advantage. I was wondering when I could test out this new body. They'll do just fine. He thought. The one in the center reached for Michaels shoulder. "You gonna apologize you lil shit."
As soon as Michael felt his hand touch his shoulder he swung around and slammed the wok right into his face. The clang of his skull and the metal sounded through the whole chamber. A few goblins nearby got interested and began to look over. Michael quickly dropped the wok onto the ground creating more noise and rushed forward. The other two were startled by the sudden movement and clang of the wok hitting the floor and that second was all he needed. The big guy was holding his nose in pain. Not enough to knock him out but enough to daze him, Michael shot his hands behind the poor goblin's head and interlocked his fingers. He didn't even have the chance to blink when he felt Michaels knee tear into his mouth. In quick succession Michael threw his hands off and pushed him back, flying off in the process.
The other two shouted and roared before rushing him. Michael weaved past the left one's clumsy left swing and shot beside him taking his claws through his leg. A quick slice tore into his skin bringing him down to a knee, Michael took the chance and smashed his palm into his ear and grabbed his head to fling his foot into the back of his neck. Another one down.
At this point there were cheers and awes coming all around them. The noise was distracting but even with it, he knew the other one would come from behind. Michael ducked and saw a fist fly just passed his head. He twisted on the ground, grabbing some dirt with his hand and threw it up into the goblins eyes. The goblin tried his best to claw out the dirt but he just looked like a flailing fish. Michael couldn't help but laugh as the goblin tried desperately to swing at him with one of his hands. Michael started swatting his hand as it swung past his face and slowly let his laughter fill the room. "How Pathetic." He rushed forward to his chest and threw his fist right at the corner of the brutes jaw. No matter how strong you are, the corner of the jaw, untrained, will always be brittle like glass. The brute fell with a solid thud and a roar of cheers filled the room.
All the goblins around him smiled and some patted the newcomer on the back. With a single fight Michael had placed himself in the eyes of everyone in this area.
Some eyes he should have avoided.
With a shout from the veteran goblins, everyone quickly dispersed and went back to training. As quickly as they gathered they left Michael in utter silence. Michael didn't expect discipline from monsters, he was beginning to question how much he could really know about this world based on fiction from his. Michael's expectations were slowly being broken, at least for now he had his skills from his last life.
"You." An older goblin decorated in leather armor grabbed Michaels shoulder.
He turned to face the goblin. Not much taller than him. He had cool silver skin and deep emerald eyes. A unique. The goblin had long black hair tied into a ponytail and dirty tusks hanging around his neck. His lips were turned and his eyes piercing. Michael knew he held rank, from the decorations he had, barbaric sure and mostly trophies but none of the guards seem to have them. Michael knew this one had to be skilled.
"I saw how you fight. Skilled for fresh blood and controlled for unchanged. You will fight in the arena. We will see if you are worthy unlike that useless kin." His eyes ripped to the freshly injured goblins Michael had taken care of.
"Captain Tark," He dipped his head slightly and looked deep into Michael, "We will see if you deserve a name."
Deserve a name. Of course I do, did he not see how I handled them, Michael thought.
"Where's the arena? Let's get this over with." Michael said
"Rest first and eat. The arena will start in a fleeting roat, I will get you then." Tark left quickly after saying what he needed to. Michael could only hope he would be able to fight something better than those three goons. Someone with skill, with strength and maybe someone worth spilling their blood. Not trash that didn't even make him sweat. Not weaklings he could kill in a matter of seconds.
Michael laughed to himself, baring his teeth and as he sat down all he could hope for was just for a little fun.