Panic and anger.
It's largely what saved Claude and drove him towards defeating the demonic plated-snake. That and the fact that there was only one enemy and many allies.
None of that mattered on the Glorian Islands. At the University of the Phoenix. Even if he hadn't officially made if there yet. His panic was a finite resource that had been running low ever since he entered the icy waters. His anger had been manipulated and twisted into confusion and back again a dozen times. He was exhausted— mentally, by a world that was growing endless in complexity.
"Why am I not dead?" The thought had spun like the hurricanes on the ocean horizon as night came.
The goblins took him on a long trek. At least it felt long. His mind had been moving like lightning since his capture, it made minutes feel like hours. The grip of the goblins on his arms and legs were beginning to bruise and swell which only made them hold tighter. His fingers and feet were numb. A cold rage gripped his mind.
They were only three islands away.
He could still see Vantage-Island's jungle trees at its peaks. The students never explored. They never left their dirty kingdom. So they never knew. They were content— Tai, was content, rounding up animals and building his guild numbers.
Where was the heroism? What was learned from that?
The world went dark. The island landscape faded as they went underground. He found himself being moved through a network of tunnels lit by sticks dipped in honey-like substances lit ablaze. The grease and muck on stone walls dripped from the ocean world above leaking through.
Claude passed out from exhaustion once and thought he was waking up to rain.
That was a while ago. Before he realized the earthy smell of mud and waterlogged roots told him he wasn't traveling the islands with his fellow students anymore.
He was beneath the ocean.
With goblins.
So many.
Their collective horrid breaths made the air sticky like a sauna full of sewage. He could smell their dietary choices and encroaching illnesses. It was only then that he realized they weren't moving.
They dropped him.
He hit wet warm earth and moved like a worm sprinkled with salt. He went for the closest thing, causing him to bite down on a goblins ankle with so much force that he broke one of his premolars.
"ACK!"
The goblin punched him in the head and a darkened collage of arms forced him to kneel. In the silence he hyperventilated as blood and grease from an unwashed body leaked from his mouth. Even though they wore the pelts and rode the giant primal rats, he could only imagine he looked positively feral.
But his mind was only slowing. The darkness should've let his imagination spin endless horrors into existence around him, but again, he was too tired.
So the dark was only absence. Absence of goblins, absence of fear, absence of university confusion.
He was in the dark surrounded by the smell of body odor.
Asking again, "Why am I not dead? Why didn't they take any human captives other than me? Did they? No, there was no outside communication….. dumbass— there could've been. I passed out. I don't know how long for. They didn't kill anyone. If they did, they would've stolen their gear. Goblins have the sickness of greed. They're clepto's. Stick to what I know."
Claude began to sniff the air around him, trying to sift through the obnoxious reek of sweaty pits and rotted gingivitis gums. There were no familiar student scents, but then again his nose wasn't that good. Even for a forest dweller.
"Breathe. What else? Why am I here? What behavior is this?" Claude pushed all the air out of his nose in the silence and started fresh— forcing the question of how many more fresh starts he had left to the back of his mind. "Goblins are raiders. They hunt and steal and pillage. The only time they take people is to….. they don't take men. They only take women to make more goblins. What the hell am I doing here? I'm kneeling in the dirt for no.... I'm kneeling."
Revelation was a beautiful thing. If only he was as smart as Xander, he probably would've have gotten it earlier. He probably would've been able to save himself.
He stretched his back-foot, thankful for the yoga Martha taught him on their slow days at the kennel. It didn't take long for his foot to hit another knee. Just a graze. Then another.
Checking everyone in the dark was impossible, but inference was born from intelligent assumptions.
"They're all kneeling. We're all kneeling. Goblins have only ever been recorded kneeling to four things. Goblin shaman's, Werewolves— also known as innate goblin-kings, demon-lords and…."
One of the goblins standing beside him struck a splinter of wood against the stone ceiling and impossibly bright fiery flames bloomed over his head, bathing him in blinding light.
Allowing him to see the figure seated on a muck throne in front of him.
"Hobgoblins."
Hobgoblins were the upper echelon bruisers of goblin-kind. They could outwrestle bugbears— which was a feat on its own considering low level bugbears could lob a thousand pound boulders with ease. They were the silent strong type that led entire hordes by example. Some even tamed wolves— their greatest fear. They were so strong many referred to them as false-orcs.
The one seated in front of him didn't look very false.
Its skin was red like hellfire. Muscles taut and pumped with blood and violence. Shark-skin armor painted black by berry dye capped its shoulders and chest. Lightweight and absorbent. It liked to trade blows. It liked war.
A mask made of ivory white bone covered its face and held the same face paint as the others. It didn't have spaces for eyes but he could've sworn he felt the eyes on him. In every drawing and depiction he'd ever seen of the treacherous breed, the eyes were always terrifying. They did the talking. If eyes were windows to the soul, hobgoblin souls were endless fiendish firestorms of greed.
It sat up suddenly and leaned inward. Greasy dark purple hair fell over its armored shoulders. The hooped piercings in its throat jingled.
Claude felt the urge to back away. Then something stopped him. Something peculiar.
"You will answer my questions."
Claude couldn't speak. He'd stopped breathing for a moment.
"Say yes."
"..."
"SAY IT!"
The goblins flinched and cursed in their native language before the closest struck Claude in the back with its fist.
His face smashed into the floor. He cringed as the pain rippled down to his legs and settled in his joints.
The goblins forced him to kneel again.
"Say yes, you hairless wretch.."
"Yes." Claude fought off a gag as foot fungus dirt settled on his cheek and lower lip.
"What is your name?"
His mind was moving so fast that he almost gave the hobgoblin the wrong one.
"Claude…. C-Claude Grey."
"What human power do you wield? The sword…? The shield…?… the arrow? The beast?"
"The arrow." Claude lied. His heart raced.
It downright entered a new dimension of speed as the goblins rose in an uproar. Their language blended into a cacophonous myriad of shouts and snarls. Some even acted out snarling beasts to try and explain his lie to their leader—
"Silence!"
The goblins quieted and reluctantly took a knee.
More revelation.
"How long have you been here?"
"Since the beginning—"
"LIES!"
The goblin struck him again. This time when he hit the ground they kicked him too.
"Stupid…. If I gave my name they know— the skies told them I'm a fifth waver, even if I'm not officially a student, they know me. That was a trick question. I don't know what that means. I need to make a move. Right here. Now. Before it's over. But I have no weapons…"
Samuel's voice was in his mind then, proudly cursing him for his lack of deadliness. His lack of pride and understanding for what it means to be Reborn.
He was the weapon. He was a whole arsenal charged by otherworldly energy.
His hands began to glow, calling to the endless tunnels of nature all around him. His natural heart thrummed like the strings on a guitar. Tempo and tuning slowly rising to something….
Fiery.
"How long have you been here?"
"Three days."
"Of the students you entered with, have you heard any speak the name of forbidden dark-god Anubis?"
Claude felt his insides shrivel. The urge to escape not just the island but the university magnified. The walls were closing in. The floor was covered in drag marks and small flecks of scales he didn't notice before— signs of snake travel. The tunnel was full of snakes. The tunnel was a snake. The plated snake. It ate him, he was being twisted and ground up by its muscly insides. The foul foot fungus in the dirt were actually stomach acids digesting his mouth and face until his horrified skull peaked through necrotic bronze flesh.
"He can't reach you here. Tell me, has anyone mentioned his name?"
Claude took a deep breath.
"Yes."
"Who is it?"
"It's..."
"Yes."
"It's…."
"Tell me!"
Claude's mind had been repeating the same thing since their torturous conversation began, "It's interesting that you chose to try and trick me with a hobgoblin when their brains aren't developed enough for human speech."
Wooden spikes ripped through the ground and cieling of the earthen tunnel, clamping down on everyone inside like the jaws of a world eating wolf.
Claude spun around onto his back. In his mind, as he planned, the torch held over his head would've fell into his hand perfectly.
Reality wasn't always as it seemed. He learned that every waking minute he spent at the University.
One of the wooden spikes that rose from the earth ripped through the goblins hand. It shrieked and threw the torch. It fell and rolled to his right, causing trails of wild funky fire to bloom.
Claude cursed and rushed to his feet.
The fire surged, feeding on his wooden constructs. The goblins fled where they could. Some tried ripping free of the spikes running them through while others only had grazes.
Claude picked up the torch and spun around.
The hobgoblin was gone.
A deadened rune lay burned into the muck throne. The work of a hex-blade.
The place could still be used. A lesser minded student would've fallen for the bait and if they knew Claude, he would be killed just like Ursula said. Simply for dreaming.
The dark-eaters would descend.
He threw the torch onto the throne, a new fear gave him fresh speed as he leapt and rolled through his own maze of impaling spikes. Stuck goblins ripped at his uniform, clawing for life. He did the same, moving faster until the sounds of chaotic night were loud. Until fresh hailstorm winds were blessing his skin.
In the madness he could see the small escaping band of goblins being swallowed by the storm. Adrenaline made them forget to never travel in such conditions. Adrenaline made him only just begin to realize he was covered in soot. Rips marred his uniform. Burning embers glowed and steamed around his ankles as moisture cooled him.
The earth shook as the defaced rune below exploded in a release of rejected magic.
Claude vomited.
[+20 EXP]
[+30 EXP]
[+40 EXP]
[+50 EXP]
[+20 EXP]
DING
[You have Leveled Up! You are now Level 6!]
[+1 Stat Point]
[+1 PHYS UP]
Claude was hunkered down under a stone and overgrowth of nature before the message even finished.
No point in celebrating.
He was half dead, without teammates or animals.
And somehow, the faculty at the University knew someone was working to be chosen by Anubis.
They just didn't know it was him.