《Song of the Goblins》


 Chapter 1 – Hail, the Weakest Monsters

    Murderous, vile, evil... Those are the words that describe what monsters are. All men agree¡ªI agree, you agree. They want to eat, to feed, to consume your flesh, your existence, your very being. And so, as necessity dictates, we must exterminate these pests.


    The decree of adventurers: Slay all fucking monsters! Goblins! Minotaurs! Sirens! Dragons! Kill them all! Use their bones as your sword and push forward! Humanity shall stand atop a mountain of corpses!


    And as the law of man commands, we killed them... we killed them all. I grabbed my sword and slashed the throat of a green-skinned creature. These fucking goblins... these vile creatures that defile women and devour children¡ªthey must be eradicated, they must be annihilated!


    Blood. Blood splattered onto my hands, mingling with the screeches of the dying. I stabbed, I sliced, I beheaded these pitiful beings. They screamed and begged, tears streaming from their eyes. But I could not falter in the face of their deception. They are monsters! Monsters have no concept of mercy¡ªtherefore, I shall show none!


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    For a moment, I hesitated.


    I saw them¡ªa group of baby goblins huddled in a hole in the ground. An adult female goblin shielded them with her body the moment I laid eyes on them. Wake up, fool! I told myself. These disgusting creatures are monsters! And so, as she screamed, I grabbed her head and smashed it to pieces. The baby goblins cried. Another moment of hesitation. Another moment silenced by my bloodied blade.


    Our party razed their village, burning their huts of nipa and wood. We laughed as we slaughtered them, hacking off their limbs and mocking them as they crawled, desperate to escape. I chuckled. This was too much fun. Seeing them at their weakest satiated my justice.


    I am a hero. A hero to be celebrated.


    The heat and ashes of my fury consumed all in sight. Children of monsters burned, their mothers choking as they wept and perished in the flames.


    I am a hero. I chanted. I am a hero. I swore.


    But as I stood amidst the carnage¡ªsurrounded by death, drenched in the scent of iron and guts, hearing the laughter of my comrades and feeling the heat of the inferno¡ªI was struck by a terrifying thought, one that slithered from the deepest pit of my mind.


    Who is the real monster here?


    I shook my head.


    Hail the weakest monster of all¡ªhumans.

 Chapter 2 – Second Chances are Not Granted for All

    Sometimes, people just don''t learn. No, it was foolish of me to take that claim for granted. I mean, I never do.


    Mistake after mistake keeps piling up until it''s a mess¡ªlike a knot tied over and over until it can''t be untangled. But that''s what life is all about: trial and error. Take risks, gamble everything; if you lose, then lesson learned.


    That''s what I believed when I was young. Life seemed so easy as long as you didn''t give up. However, as I grew older, I realized that wasn¡¯t the case. It was too hard¡ªhellish even¡ªfor my immature mind.


    I wish I could stay a young, naive kid forever, unburdened by harsh realizations, pressure, and everything else. If only I could turn back time over and over or erase my memories, my life might have been better.


    I look at myself in the mirror and see the pathetic adult I''ve become. No, I¡¯m not a drunkard, a smoker, or an addict. I¡¯m just a normal man, a simple man, a boring man¡ªunloved by the world.


    As a kid, I chose and swore to become an upright, educated man. A kind soul who would do good for society and the world. Yet, the world did not reciprocate those feelings. My fate was sealed with depression and unworthiness, tortured by society¡¯s indifference.


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    And then I look at others, my teeth sinking into my lips. Envy.


    I envy those people who seem to enjoy life¡ªthose men who know no bounds in morals. Those confident fools who think they are smart. They keep making mistakes, again and again, yet the world grants them second, third, even fourth chances.


    Meanwhile, a single mistake of mine cost me everything.


    Second chances are not granted to all.


    That is the truth.


    I held her hands dearly, lovingly. Her gentle fingers intertwined with mine. Soft touches of affection between our skins as she smiled, radiant like sunshine. I met her at the library, and with one look at her face, my heart melted¡ªsqueezed like a fruit pouring sweetness into a cup of thoughts.


    Her eyes held the future¡ªmy destiny with her. Us, holding hands at the altar as doves soared above, the priest praying for eternal bliss, our commitment to be as one before the Lord.


    But it was a delusion that never came true. She accused me of harassment. That was when I discovered it was all a fa?ade. She already had a man in her life¡ªa man who broke my legs, forcing my doctor to amputate them, rendering me unable to walk ever again.


    It was a mistake to trust. It was a mistake to fall in love.


    Tears roll down my face as I stare from the terrace of my hospital room. I sit in my wheelchair, spinning the wheels until my weight tips me forward, above the edge. I look down at the bustling cars below and smile.


    I was kind to the world; the world did not do the same. Yet, I am still in love with it.


    And so, in my last moments, may my flesh and blood embrace the world with passion¡ªso that, perhaps, it may finally understand: I just wanted to be loved the same.

 Chapter 3 – Good and Evil, Conceived by Thought.

    Good and evil...


    How much do you believe in the concept? Do they truly exist, or are they merely products of one''s imagination?


    The basis of morality is entirely subjective, shaped by what the majority considers good or bad. In the end, it all comes from the mind¡ªcreated by imagination, an illusion that sprouts from one''s thoughts. Good and evil do not exist unless someone thinks of them.


    For creatures without thought, there is no such categorization¡ªonly instinct. The instinct to survive by any means necessary, to continue existing, to reproduce, to live.


    For us goblins¡ªcreatures of green, illiterate fools¡ªthere is neither good nor evil, only survival. That was true until I tasted the forbidden fruit of knowledge, consuming the essence of awareness and taking the first step toward intelligence.


    "Bandits!" The shout came from afar¡ªa man''s voice, human. The rest of the goblins turned pale, their instincts screaming at them to run for their lives. But for some reason, my feet did the opposite.


    My body was drawn to the voice. I think this is called curiosity¡ªthe thirst for knowledge. My mind buzzed with anticipation and excitement. I wanted to see, to know what was happening.


    Yet, Fina stopped me before I made a mistake. For some reason, curiosity can kill a cat.


    The strange female goblin dragged me away from the danger. It was the safest choice¡ªmy instincts screamed at me to flee, yet a part of me yearned to chase the unknown. My heart was filled with the desire to understand.


    And then, as if my will had bent fate itself, the shouts of the humans came closer. A tattered carriage, drawn by two wheezing and wounded horses, crashed into a tree. People were thrown from its wooden enclosure. A young girl clutching a large book tumbled out, pain marking every inch of her body.


    A group of humans on horseback followed, wielding red-tinted swords and spears. One of them commanded, "Kill that child of a demon!"¡ªand the others pointed their weapons at her. My curiosity was piqued. Questions sprouted in my mind. How could one human command others so easily? Why were they trying to kill one of their own kind?


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    I squinted, seeking answers while hiding with the rest of the flock. The humans readied their swords, prepared to strike down what should have been their kin. Yet before the scene could unfold, a man clad in bloodied, tattered armor crashed into the group, halting their malicious intent.


    "Don''t touch her!" he screamed with every ounce of his exhausted, dying will. "How foul and evil are you to try to kill an innocent child!?"


    A chuckle echoed. "This is the problem with illiterate fools¡ªpretending to be saints while knowing nothing of the world." One of the bandits extended his hand toward the armored man. In an instant, a flash pierced the air, and a hole appeared in the man''s chest.


    "Believe me or not, I am doing this for the future of mankind."


    With the support of his heavy sword, the dying man forced himself to stand. "Even so, killing an innocent child is¡ª"


    "Fool," the bandit growled. "What''s heavier: the life of that child or the lives of thousands¡ªif not millions¡ªthat could die by her hand? Which of us is good? Which of us is evil?"


    Good and evil. At first, I knew nothing of these concepts, for I did not understand human language. Yet this moment was when I first tasted the forbidden fruit of morality¡ªof right and wrong¡ªcommitting the awareness of sin.


    The bandit laughed. "I forgot¡ªit''s all just a matter of perspective! There are no good or bad people among us! We''re all just trying to survive!"


    "Only animals lack the concept of good and evil. And I am human. I am not like you," the warrior declared, slashing toward a bandit but missing.


    "Young girl, RUN!" he shouted. The girl, her cheeks wet with tears, stumbled to her feet and fled as fast as her small legs could carry her.


    "Don''t let her escape!"


    But the girl was clumsy. She tripped, dropping her book. Without a second thought, she stood up, closed her eyes, ran and screamed from the top of her lungs.


    Though she never outran the bandits.


    This happened long ago, and the memories have faded. I do not know what became of the girl or the man in armor but it may be better to live it to your imagination. But what I remember most vividly¡ªetched deep into my mind¡ªwas the book she left behind. That book changed my life for better or worse. It was my forbidden fruit.


    It was a picture book that told the story of a Hero saving a Princess from the Dark Evil Lord. I was curious, so I picked it up¡ªthough I could not read. Slowly, bit by bit, I began to understand the words. Curiosity birthed imagination, which gave rise to imagery, which connected to words.


    I studied the pictures, identified the shapes of letters, learned how they formed words, and how words combined to convey meaning. As I deciphered each page, something within me changed.


    I became aware¡ªaware of the world, of what I was, or rather, of what the world thought I was: a goblin. I realized I had thoughts. And with those thoughts came awareness of my own existence.


    And thus, the awareness of morality was born¡ªthe notions of good and evil, conceived by thought.


    Good and evil...


    How much do you believe in the concept?

 Chapter 4 – Returned to Flesh

    For a moment, I saw the face of God.


    And to be with God means to burn in hell.


    To look upon its face is to uncover the truth¡ªmesmerizing yet maddening. Like drowning in eternal flames, the fire searing deep into the soul, consuming the very essence of consciousness. It was hell. Hellish. And yet, heavenly.


    Yet, for some strange reason, our mortal flesh could not bear the weight of God.


    The last thing I remember is falling. And when I landed, my blood splattered across the cold floor. I felt the momentary heat of death... the fleeting seven minutes of bliss before the brain surrenders to oblivion.


    And then, nothing.


    Nothingness¡ªthe end, I suppose. The afterlife is void. My existence fades. Freedom. I am free.


    Then, suddenly, my body jerked upward.


    ¡°What?¡± My voice trembled as sweat drenched my skin, soaking me in my own filth. ¡°What is this?¡± I muttered, staring at my hands¡ªsmall, weak, unfamiliar.


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    A crushing weight settled upon me. Despair. An unbearable pain. A loneliness so profound that tears spilled from my eyes, flowing uncontrollably like a flood no mortal could halt. Yet, as I wept, the overwhelming sorrow began to dissipate, like mist retreating before the sun.


    The door burst open.


    ¡°Arsta!?¡±


    Their faces were etched with worry. Their presence weighed heavy on my mind. Who were they? Who was Arsta? Their tears fell freely, yet theirs were different from mine. Theirs were tears of hope. Mine¡ªtears of suffering.


    A bearded man seized my shoulders.


    ¡°You¡¯re alive¡­ My son is alive! Thank you! Thank you!¡± His embrace was suffocating, his scent thick with sweat and desperation.


    A woman clutched my hands. ¡°I can¡¯t believe this... I thought I¡¯d lost you forever.¡±


    And yet, I still wondered¡ªwho were they? Who was I? Where was I? My mind spiraled, unable to grasp the truth. But then, pain¡ªdeep, aching, and raw¡ªpierced through my heart. Old emotions bled from my soul, the echoes of a familial love I no longer recognized.


    I understood nothing.


    Nothing at all.


    But one thing was certain: I had returned to flesh.


    Yet, this was not my body. It was too young. And I¡ªbefore this¡ªhad no legs to stand upon.


    Despite my newfound youth, despite the vitality I had regained, I felt nothing but emptiness. It was as if I had been thrust into a dream¡ªor a nightmare. Everything around me was unfamiliar. Foreign. Suffocating.


    I despised it.


    I despised it so much that I longed for death.


    I would rather embrace oblivion than be reincarnated into this wretched life.

 Chapter 5 - Emptiness—like staring into the abyss

    Somehow, I have obtained this young body¡ªArsta¡¯s body. A boy filled with potential, a bright child with eyes full of hope. His dream was to become a knight, to protect the citizens, and most of all, his family.


    And in the blink of an eye, I stole everything from him.


    His dreams, his life, his beloved family¡­ all of them now rest in the palm of my hands. And all I feel is guilt for inhabiting his body.


    "Stay with us," his mother whispers as she holds this body dearly, her hands trembling. Beside her, a bearded man¡ªhis father¡ªwraps his arms around them both, his gaze heavy with unspoken sorrow. The mother gently caresses her stomach as her other hand on my hair. They remain like this for minutes, then for an hour. It almost feels as if they could stay this way for eternity.


    I do not speak. I do not dare. A single word from me could shatter their fragile solace.


    Yet I am guilty¡ªguilty of stealing this body and keeping them imprisoned in a delusion. They believe I am their son. But I am not. And no matter how much I try, I cannot see them as my family.


    Despite my hesitation, the words slip from my lips.


    "Who are you?"


    The parents gasp. Their faces tighten with disbelief, unable to grasp the reality before them. But then, after a brief pause, they smile.


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    "We are your family, my dear. Your dearest family," his mother says softly.


    His father gently rubs her shoulder. "It seems we¡¯ll have to start again from scratch. Let me tell you about yourself, Arsta."


    Parents know their child best. As they recount Arsta¡¯s life, their love for him becomes painfully evident. He was full of hope and ambition, a boy who longed to protect his country. And yet, here I am¡ªI destroyed it all.


    He was smart, playful, and kind. A little grumpy at times, but that was part of his charm. To the younger children, he was like an elder brother. To the elders, he was still a child at heart. He was the village¡¯s favorite.


    But everything changed on the day of his Appraisal Ceremony.


    That was when they discovered the truth¡ªhe was a fated child of destiny. His future was woven into a grand prophecy, destined for glory. A hero. A hero who would one day rise to fight an impending, unknown threat.


    Since that day, his life had never been the same. He became a target, hunted from all directions. And then, one day... his family found him.


    Bleeding.


    Barely breathing.


    At death¡¯s door.


    For a week, he lay unconscious, hovering between life and death. And then, miraculously, he woke up.


    There was nothing in this world that could compare to the joy his family felt at that moment. Their beloved son had returned to them.


    But it was not him who woke up. It was me.


    And I felt nothing but emptiness¡ªlike staring into the abyss.


    I want to die. I crave it. I have seen something beyond death, something I long to return to. I cannot describe it¡ªwhether it was the bliss of nothingness or the radiance of the divine¡ªbut I yearn for it.


    Yet after hearing their story, I can no longer bring myself to do it. Not when I have seen the joy in their eyes. Not when I know the devastation they would feel if I left them again.


    For now, I will stay. I will observe.


    Perhaps, in time, I will find a reason to keep living.


    Or a reason to finally end it all.

 Chapter 6 - Toward the Forest Cursed by the Gods.

    With great power comes great responsibility.


    With greater intelligence comes great misery.


    As far as I know, for as long as I am aware, there is suffering. And because I am aware, I am subjected to that same suffering.


    To know is to suffer. However, the ability to know brings the potential to change one''s situation¡ªsomething the ignorant cannot do, or would not want to do, or were never aware they could do.


    Sometimes, dread overtakes my mind and questions my worth. Sometimes, I ask myself, why me? However, slow realization led me down the road to salvation¡ªthere is no right answer to a wrong question. The true question is: how? How can I improve my life? My clan''s life? The lives that will come after mine?


    The weight of power, the ability to change my society and my life, rests on my mind like a heavy boulder, carrying all the possibilities of the future. But I must move forward, even if every step threatens to break my legs, my body, and my soul. Not because I see it as my responsibility for having been given great power, but because I am smart enough to know better.


    Or perhaps it is because I am in love with my world? Or because my world loves me? I can''t pinpoint the right word. All I know is that I must do it, driven by the burning feeling in my chest¡ªthe call to take the first step out of my comfort zone, to commit to the passion of serving my clan.


    And so...


    Hardening my resolve, I left my comfort zone. I departed from the village where I had grown up, carrying the book left behind by that human child on that fateful day. I carried no weapons, believing this to be only a reconnaissance task and wishing to avoid suspicion from the goblin elders, who insisted that the young remain hidden.


    I moved swiftly, determined yet silent.


    Suddenly, someone grabbed my hand.


    "Ah!" I accidentally let out a small gasp. It was Fina, a young female goblin I had grown up with. She grumbled, but no words formed¡ªgoblins do not have a language of their own. However, I could smell the intensity of her gaze, her worry.


    Because goblins cannot communicate verbally¡ªor perhaps do not know how¡ªwe rely on scent. Our sensitive noses can detect even the slightest change in body odor, revealing emotions and intent.


    I have encountered many goblins and learned to interpret their scents, yet for some reason, Fina''s was different. It was intoxicating and caring. Perhaps because we were like family, growing up together like siblings. I couldn''t help but adore her as well.


    I patted her head, reassuring her that everything was okay.


    There was a moment of hesitation before I looked away. But I had to move forward, even if I was scared. I needed to know. I needed to investigate. I needed answers¡ªanswers that could only be found beyond the boundaries of our village.


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    Toward the forest cursed by the gods.


    This forest was teeming with monsters¡ªmonsters that preyed upon other monsters. Fortunately, I had the book left by that human child. It was not just a fairy tale picture book but one seemingly based on reality.


    One page contained a map. In the southeast corner was the Egregory Forest, shaded in a dark purple hue. Strangely, this section was darker than the rest and covered in red ink. At the heart of the dark forest was Thremarian Lake, also marked in red.


    Oddly enough, the forest I was in also had a lake at its center¡ªa place strictly forbidden and considered taboo. I began to wonder... Could this map depict real locations and not just fictional ones? Could the red markings indicate dangerous areas where apex predators lurk?


    If that were true, then avoiding the red markings would be my safest strategy. However... I looked around and realized that in every direction, I saw only the same moonlit trees. The forest appeared identical no matter where I turned.


    Had I gotten lost?


    I glanced back, considering returning home, but even that seemed impossible now. Still, I refused to give up¡ªnot when I had already embarked on this journey. I had to think. I had to make my brain work. How could I¡ª


    "Halt!" a voice echoed through the forest, followed by the thunderous sound of horses.


    I immediately hid, peering through the foliage. Three armored humans on horseback were chasing a large man in priestly robes, his face obscured by an iron mask. The priest ran barefoot, drenched in sweat and panic. But with a single slash to his back, he collapsed, his legs failing him.


    "Father Antonette Ars Oresia," one of the armored men read from an old scroll. "You stand convicted of betraying the faith by engaging in lascivious acts against a young girl named Rena."


    "I didn''t do anything! I am innocent! Please, let me speak to Rena! She can explain! Please, I beg you! This is unjust!"


    "Dead men don¡¯t speak, Father."


    "What do you mean?" Horror seeped into his voice.


    "Your penalty is immediate execution."


    "Wha¡ª"


    Before he could utter another word, his head was severed with a single slash. It rolled toward me... and his lifeless eyes met mine.


    Terror gripped me, but not because of the blood pooling on the ground or his wide, dying stare. It was the scent¡ªnot just the iron tang of blood, but the innocence and gentleness in his odor. He had tried to speak, but no words had come out.


    "We''re done here. No need to bury him. Let the beasts feast on his corpse," the lead armored man declared.


    Another soldier hesitated, his gaze downcast.


    "What¡¯s wrong?" the lead armored man asked.


    "No... it¡¯s nothing. I just feel a little guilty."


    "I see. But you must change. Guilt will only hinder our work. Besides, we didn¡¯t kill a man¡ªwe killed a monster. At least, that¡¯s what everyone believes."


    "What do you mean by that?!" The hesitant man¡¯s voice trembled.


    The leader looked at him with a cold, weary gaze. "It doesn¡¯t matter whether he was guilty or not. We are not the ones who decide. Once the people point their fingers, all we can do is enact their rage. That is our job."


    The soldier''s voice wavered. "But what if he truly was innocent? What if the truth comes out? Can you sleep at night knowing you killed an innocent man? Because I can¡¯t. I became a soldier to be a hand of justice... but this is not what I signed up for."


    "Nothing in this world will ever align perfectly with your ideals, kid. Especially not in this cursed forest, where the truth is always buried. The church will make sure of that."


    As the group rode away, I cast one last glance at the fallen priest. I hesitated and gulped.


    I don''t know why I did it, but I took his mask and robe. Perhaps I wanted to preserve the memory of this moment. Or perhaps...


    I didn''t know.


    But I took them and followed the men.


    For only then might I find my path forward.