After the first fight, it seemed they thought more highly of me—at least as a fighter. Though, it was hard to tell if eating the glowing stone had shifted their view of me beyond that, perhaps making them question whether I was even entirely full human anymore. The next goblin they brought out was the second smallest, nearly identical to the first in appearance. The only truly notable difference was its height. While the last one barely reached my shoulders, this one stood roughly the same height as me. Its demeanor was different too—sharper, more calculating. It glanced at the fallen goblin before locking its yellow eyes on me, a strange intelligence flickering behind them, as if it were already devising a plan to avoid the same fate.
I tightened my grip on the hammer, steadying myself as the tension built. Just as I began to ready myself for the fight, Lord Thorne raised his hand, halting everyone.
"Give the creature a weapon," he said, his tone calm but commanding. "I feel like the boy can win this too easily if we don't."
The guards exchanged swift, uncertain glances. Their hesitation was brief, but telling. One of them complied, tossing a club onto the ground in front of the goblin. There was a flicker of doubt in their movements, as though they questioned whether this was wise. To my small relief, the club landed a fair distance from the goblin, forcing it to lurch forward to retrieve it. The guards, at least, seemed to want to give me a fighting chance.
Even so, Lord Thorne's order stung. He had seen what I could do in the first fight, and yet he raised the stakes without hesitation. My hands gripped the hammer tightly, the knuckles turning white. I glanced between the goblin and the club, dread and determination mixing in my chest. This fight would not be the same.
The guards stepped back, unlocking the goblin's shackles. The creature hesitated for only a moment before darting toward the club, its raw wrists smearing red against the dirt as it scrambled to pick up its weapon. I didn't wait for it to ready itself. I lunged forward, hoping to catch it off balance before it could gain a foothold. I'd seen guards use this tactic to subdue unruly slaves before, and I thought it might work for me.
That strange sensation returned—the one I had felt in the first fight, a pull that whispered for me to let go of thought and let instinct take hold. But this time, I resisted it. I didn't trust it yet. I pushed it aside, keeping my focus sharp as I crashed into the goblin, sending us both sprawling into the dirt.
I raised the hammer, ready to bring it down, but the goblin moved faster than I expected. It twisted beneath me with shocking agility, its crooked teeth snapping out like a viper. A sharp, searing pain flared where my upper chest met my shoulder, spreading like fire across my back. The goblin's teeth tore free, and I staggered backward, gasping as a warm, sickening sensation spread down my side. I looked down to see a jagged chunk of flesh missing from my shoulder. My blood oozed freely from the wound—but it wasn't normal blood.
The deep crimson was threaded with glowing motes, faintly pulsing as it ran down my arm. My breath hitched. I'd bled before—plenty of times. My old master's punishments had ensured that I knew what blood should look like. But this? This was something else. Something wrong.
The goblin swallowed the chunk of my flesh, its mouth smeared red as it let out a low, guttural snarl. It seemed emboldened, as if tasting my blood had ignited something in it. My mind raced, panic and confusion colliding, but anger was quick to rise, overwhelming everything else.
I clenched my jaw and lashed out with my free hand, driving my fist into the goblin's face. The impact stunned it for a brief moment, its yellow eyes widening in surprise—confused, perhaps, that I hadn't used my weapon. But I didn't stop there. I surged forward, closing the distance between us, and bit down on its throat.
The goblin shrieked, the foul taste of its flesh and the sour tang of its blood flooding my mouth. My stomach churned, but I didn't let go. I tore a chunk free, spitting out its ragged throat tissue as it gurgled in pain. Its eyes—wet with tears now—widened with fear. For the first time, it looked at me not as prey, but as a predator.
It shoved me off with its trembling hands, choking out a garbled cry as it stumbled backward. I rose slowly, blood smeared across my mouth and chin. The pain in my shoulder dulled, though I knew the wound wasn't healed. My mind simply tuned it out, as if my body had decided it didn't matter.
The goblin staggered back toward the club, its hands shaking as it bent to pick it up. I began to move forward, slow and deliberate. I took my time, watching the goblin's every movement. Each step I took, I feigned a lunge, causing the creature to flinch, raising its club to guard itself.
I didn't follow through. I stopped, waited, and did it again. And again. The goblin's movements grew erratic, its breathing frantic. It was panicking now—angry, stressed, and exhausted. The moment its guard faltered, I struck.
I gripped the hammer closer to its head and lunged, driving the spike upward in a sharp, brutal arc. The point pierced beneath its jaw, sinking into its skull with a sickening crack. The goblin froze, its yellow eyes going wide with shock before the life drained from them. Its body sagged, falling limp as I yanked the hammer free, leaving a jagged hole where the spike had been.
I stood over the body, panting, my chest rising and falling with the effort. My shoulder ached, and my head buzzed. The world felt quieter now. I looked down at the goblin's lifeless form, and I smiled.
Power. That was what I felt, raw and intoxicating. My mind raced as I stared at the fallen creature, my eyes drawn instinctively to its chest. I wanted to see if this one also had a stone in its body. No one moved to stop me. My hands were steady as I crouched down, gripping the hammer's spike again. I drove it into the goblin's torso, carving a jagged hole in a spot similar to where I'd found the stone in the first one.
Reaching inside, my fingers found it—the same smooth, hard object. I pulled it free, slick with blood and glowing faintly. Even though this goblin had been larger, the stone was identical in size and appearance to the first. Its faint warmth pulsed in my palm, and without hesitation, I opened my mouth and swallowed it whole.
The sensation was immediate. Warmth spread from my stomach in waves, but this time, there was something more—something deeper. A new sensation began to stir within me, like something growing inside my chest. The warmth turned sharp, and I gasped as a searing pain racked my body. My hands flew to my chest as I doubled over, curling into myself. My skin felt cold and clammy, sweat soaking through my gambeson. My chest throbbed with each beat of my heart, the pain so intense it blurred the edges of my vision.
Footsteps approached, heavy and deliberate, cutting through the fog of agony. I heard faint words, spoken with a mix of annoyance and dismissal.
"Okay, okay, that's enough of that now. Let's load up the cart and move on. Kill the other goblins, except for the evolving one. It's worth a bit of coin."
The voice was Lord Thorne's, his tone calm and uncaring, as if I were no more than a minor inconvenience in his plans. The world around me faded as the pain grew unbearable, my body succumbing to the pressure. The last thing I remembered was the sound of the hammer slipping from my grasp and the cold dirt beneath me as I blacked out.