In front of him, the person was kneeling, their arms tied behind their back, writhing in a bloodied body. Hearing the noises, their heartbeat intensified with a look of despair on their face.
The first thought that came to Rargnes was that he looked like a child from this angle.
RedStar - the only person who, after Roaers happily left the group with citizenship rights, land, and a wife, helped him during his illness by buying mana potions out of his own pocket. Maybe he owed him his life.
The soldier coughed. Rargnes didn't dare to meet his gaze and knelt, inspecting the blade in his hand. He exhaled a horrified breath as he sighed.
'How should I go about it?'
Rargnes knelt towards his former comrade. His eyes looked at their extremity on each side, not daring to turn his head entirely towards the commander's guard, who must have been looking down on him.
What could he want? For him to kill him? It seemed obvious, but what if it was a test? To see if he could even betray his former comrades? Who would accept such a person into their ranks? Who could betray them at every moment? A person only craving for power?
'Only people who would do the same, too, I suppose. My life, or RedStar's.'
His knife reflected light in his eyes. He looked away and fell upon RedStar's bloodied wounds, covering his entire being.
His eyes trembled.
"What," he spoke, looking at the ground, "what should I do?"
In front of him, RedStar reacted to his voice. He struggled even more fiercely, a gag muffling the cries that came from him.
Who could torture a goblin? A being who couldn't lie? Were they suspicious? Or did they want to instill terror in him? Probably the latter.
"It seems clear to me," the man replied gravely.
'He's going to die anyway,' his voice told him. 'and look at his skin, he didn't have much time left, in any case.'
RedStar's skin was becoming scaly and dark green. A goblin reached this stage when their age equated to fifty years. Of course, they lived five times less. It was apparently a big problem to manage them at first. In two years, they grew into adults. During the first months of their existence, none of them died. They were already sufficient, not blind at birth or dependent like humans. Female goblins didn't die to give birth in the quarter. Goblins didn't naturally die by half until adulthood - things that were obvious to the invaders were not to the goblins.
'I must be underestimated. Just capable and loyal enough to stay alive.'
What would be the ideal treatment for him to achieve this goal? Being heartless and killing directly? Wasn't one judged weak - and therefore trustworthy - when a person struggled? When they seemed to sacrifice a part of themselves? They could only hope for fear, not courage, from him after the treatment he had undergone.
His hand holding the knife trembled. He tried to convey his saddest voice.
"I - I'm sorry. It's not against you; it's to survive. I..." the voice seemed to convince him so much that he actually started to feel emotions. Certainly, only one mere year spent by his side would not have allowed him to feel so much emotion, right?
He advanced his knife. The metallic smell of blood reached his nostrils. His eyes scrutinized every corner of the goblin, every wound. He felt nauseous. The figure of RedStar blurred.
'No! Tell yourself it's nothing! An animal! I don't know what!' The voice orchestrated in his head. Manipulating. Manipulating everything. As if it weren't his life, as if it weren't the present moment, always speaking in his head at breakneck speed.
He thought back to the past, to the future that this goblin deserved. Despite a year, he didn't know much about this being who couldn't even tell a lie. He did not even know his last name - if goblins possessed one, if he had a family, a wife. Nothing. They talked to kill time before time killed them.
'Is there really anything to fuss about such a small thing?'
The man behind him growled and brought him back to reality.
But he fell again. He felt a scene of déjà vu. As if... as if. As if that voice just wanted to manipulate him, as if he were just a simulation.
Sometimes, he asked himself questions about the divine and the existence. He was afraid. Afraid of this world, afraid of the End.
'In any case, he's going to die. He was doomed.'
The apocalypse after this one, the apocalypse of time, killing everyone. His dogs. His family members. It would have to be solved.
'I have important things to do, Rargnes! Move!'
He planted the knife in the neck. His senses were abruptly activated. He felt extracted from his body, watching the scene in front of him like a blurry film, blood flowing as he withdrew the dagger. The screams. Everything echoed like a dull noise in his head. The goblin gargled something.
And it was the end of RedStar.