《Forbidden Goblin》 Last Day of Peace The weak light of the campfire flickered inside the cave, casting elongated shadows on the damp stone walls. The scent of wet earth and moss lingered in the air, mixed with the odor of burnt meat, remnants of the last meal. The tribe was still asleep, sprawled across the packed dirt floor, nestled among old furs and straw. The only sounds were the snores of the older goblins, accompanied by the occasional crackle of burning wood. Grekh slowly opened his eyes. The rocky ceiling of the cave was the first thing he saw every morning, stained by time and the soot of countless fires. He turned his head and saw the other goblins piled on top of each other, sleeping in a disorderly fashion, as was their custom. The warmth of their bodies helped ward off the night''s cold. He sat up, stretching in silence. His lean and agile body was not as strong as the tribe''s warriors, but it was fast and resilient. He pulled a piece of old leather over his shoulders like a cloak and stepped out of the cave, careful not to step on the dry branches scattered near the entrance. The faint light of dawn was beginning to paint the sky in shades of blue, still interwoven with the black mantle of night. The dense forest stretched before him, damp and silent. Gnarled trees rose like ancient sentinels, their exposed roots twisting together, forming a natural labyrinth. Grekh took a deep breath. The morning air was always purer before the day''s heat brought the acrid stench of rotting carcasses further inside the cave. He looked around. Some goblins were beginning to stir inside the cave, but most were still asleep. Taking advantage of the quiet moment, he walked toward a small stream that ran not far away. The water was shallow but clear, reflecting a distorted image of his face as he crouched down to drink. His yellow eyes stared at his own reflection on the trembling surface of the water. His greenish-gray skin was darker than that of most goblins, making him harder to spot at night. His long ears bore small nicks and scars, souvenirs of past fights and hunts. His black hair fell in messy tufts over his eyes, as unkempt as ever. He sighed. ¡ª Tsk... He splashed his face with water and rubbed his cold hands against his skin, feeling the shock of the cold wake him up completely. It was time to start the day. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. For goblins, life was simple: survive. The strongest hunted. The weakest gathered. The elders taught, when they were in the mood. The youngest¡­ well, most didn''t live long enough to worry about that. Grekh was part of the gathering group. He wasn''t weak, but he wasn''t strong enough to hunt alone either. His job was to fetch firewood, roots, and anything else useful to the tribe. He had learned early on that complaining changed nothing, so he did his tasks in silence. In the clearing in front of the cave, a group of older goblins was sharpening crude spears. They were rough weapons, made from fire-hardened branches and chipped stones. Nothing compared to the iron weapons of humans. But for goblins, they would do. By the fire, one of the warrior goblins, a brute named Gnarz, was tearing strips of dried meat from a carcass. His gaze met Grekh''s for a brief moment. ¡ª You there, runt ¡ª he growled, his voice hoarse and deep. ¡ª Go fetch some firewood. And don''t come back empty-handed. Grekh didn''t answer, only nodded. Questioning orders was never a good idea. He grabbed a worn leather sack and headed into the forest. The forest was dense, but Grekh knew its paths well. He knew where to find dry branches, where to dig for roots, and which areas to avoid. Humans rarely ventured this far, but it wasn''t impossible for patrols to appear. He walked for a while, gathering wood and herbs. The sounds of the forest were the same as always: the rustling of leaves, the buzzing of insects, the distant calls of birds. But something felt¡­ wrong. Grekh stopped, furrowing his brow. Silence. For a moment, he realized that the usual forest sounds had disappeared. No birds, no rustling leaves. Just an oppressive stillness, as if nature itself were holding its breath. He looked around, his instincts screaming in alarm. Then he heard it. A metallic sound, distant. Hooves? Grekh''s heart quickened. He hid behind a tree, peeking out cautiously. Through the trees, on the dirt road leading to human lands, he saw a small group of mounted figures. Human warriors. They were still far, but Grekh recognized the silhouette of their armor. Spears on their backs, swords at their belts, the glint of metal catching the morning light. He clenched his teeth. Trainers. He had heard the stories. Humans who used goblins to train their new soldiers. They would enter forests, raid tribes, slaughter without hesitation. Not out of necessity, but for sport. They were still far away. They didn''t seem to have noticed the cave. Maybe it was just a routine patrol. Maybe they were just passing through. But a chill ran down Grekh''s spine. He didn''t like "maybe." Gripping his sack, he started back toward the cave as quickly as possible. Grekh rushed into the cave, his heart still pounding. He went straight to where Gnarz was and crouched beside him. ¡ª Humans. I saw warriors in the forest. Gnarz let out a rough laugh, tearing another piece of dried meat with his teeth. ¡ª So what? Humans pass by all the time. ¡ª But they were armed. On horseback. They looked like trainers ¡ª Grekh insisted. Gnarz clicked his tongue and tossed aside an empty bone. ¡ª If they come, we fight. If they don''t, bad luck for them. Now shut up and bring more firewood. Grekh hesitated. He wanted to say more, to insist. But he knew that in the tribe, the weak had no voice. He looked around. The other goblins were busy¡ªeating, sharpening weapons, going about their lives. No one cared. No one ever cared. A knot formed in his stomach. Something bad was about to happen. He knew it. But at that moment, no one listened. And when night fell, it would already be too late. The Hunter’s Sound The campfire crackled at the center of the cave, casting flickering shadows on the rocky walls. The weak heat of the flames barely managed to keep the creeping dampness of the packed earth floor at bay. The scent of roasted meat mixed with the natural odor of goblins¡ªa stench of sweat, dried blood, and damp fur. Grekh sat in silence near the cave''s entrance. His gaze was fixed on nothing, fingers tightening around a small piece of dry wood he had found while gathering firewood. The warning he had given earlier still echoed in his mind. Humans were nearby. Warriors, trainers. The kind of men who killed goblins without hesitation, for nothing more than entertainment. But no one listened. In fact, the tribe seemed more concerned with finishing their meal than with the possibility of an invasion. The older goblins gnawed on the bones of small animals roasted over the fire. Some laughed at crude jokes while others sharpened their rudimentary weapons. Gnarz, the strongest warrior of the tribe, took a swig of a bitter drink made from fermented roots, his face showing no sign of concern. Grekh clenched his teeth. Something inside him screamed that this wouldn''t end well. At the cave''s entrance, the cold night wind whispered through the trees. The forest outside was too quiet. The silence wasn''t normal. Then he heard it. Footsteps. Not the light steps of a goblin or the lazy shuffle of a small beast. These were heavy. Precise. Organized. He tensed. The sounds multiplied. Footsteps echoed among the trees, accompanied by the faint clinking of metal. Grekh held his breath. Warriors were here. He turned quickly, searching for Gnarz, but hesitated. No one would notice. The tribe was drowned in the sound of laughter, conversation, and the crackling of roasting meat. The noise masked everything outside. A chill ran up Grekh''s spine. He stood slowly and took a step out of the cave, slipping into the darkness. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. The shadows were his allies. The forest was bathed in deep gloom, illuminated only by the pale glow of the moon. The trees cast ghostly silhouettes against the sky, swaying at the slightest breath of wind. Grekh moved cautiously, his feet making almost no sound on the damp ground. Then he saw them. Among the trees, six figures moved in formation. Tall men, clad in leather and iron armor, each carrying a gleaming blade at their waist. One held a long spear, its silver tip gleaming under the moonlight. Their faces were hidden beneath simple helmets, but their postures were rigid, disciplined. Hunters. Grekh knew the look of these warriors. He had seen them before. When he was younger, a similar group appeared near the tribe and massacred half of them with ease. He remembered the screams, the smell of warm blood, the cruel laughter of humans as they ran their blades through helpless bodies. These men weren''t here by accident. They had come to hunt. The goblin swallowed hard. If he didn''t warn the tribe now, they''d all be dead before dawn. But then he saw something else. One of the warriors raised a hand and pointed toward the cave. They already knew. The sound of a sword being drawn echoed through the night''s silence. Grekh turned and ran. His heart pounded as his feet pounded against the uneven ground, dodging roots and loose stones. The cave was close. He had to warn them. He had to make them listen. He leaped into the shelter of the stone cavern, his eyes wide, chest heaving. ¡ª Humans! ¡ª He shouted, loud enough for everyone to hear. The laughter stopped. Silence fell over the tribe. The nearest goblins turned to him, confused. Gnarz, seated on a large rock, frowned in irritation. ¡ª What did you say, runt? ¡ª Humans! They''re coming! They already know we''re here! ¡ª Grekh pointed toward the forest. ¡ª I saw them. They''re armed, with spears and swords! The goblins exchanged glances. Some frowned, others scoffed. Gnarz stood slowly, grabbing one of his crude spears. ¡ª If they come, we fight. It''s not the first time humans have tried to catch us. ¡ª These aren''t lost merchants! They''re hunters! ¡ª Grekh insisted. Gnarz''s expression darkened. He opened his mouth to retort, but then they heard it. The first scream. Outside, a goblin from the night patrol let out a cry of pain. The sound was cut short almost immediately, but the impact was felt. A second later, a lifeless body rolled into the cave. Blood pooled across the stone floor. The tribe froze. Then the chaos began. Outside, the humans charged, swift as predators. Heavy footsteps echoed, weapons gleamed under the moonlight. The first spear flew through the cave''s entrance, piercing through an unsuspecting goblin''s chest. He collapsed backward with a wet thud, eyes wide in sudden death. Gnarz roared, gripping his spear and rushing to the entrance. ¡ª FIGHT! But there was no fight to be had. The humans were trained. Their formation was flawless. They moved as one, their blades cutting through flesh without hesitation. Goblins tried to fight back, but their crude weapons were useless against forged steel. The stench of blood filled the cave. Grekh froze for a second. His mind screamed at him to do something, anything. But he wasn''t a warrior. He never had been. Then, a goblin fell beside him, throat slit. His eyes, lifeless, staring into nothingness. Panic exploded inside him. He turned and ran. He sprinted down the darkest tunnel of the cave, where few goblins ever ventured. He knew there was an exit at the back, a narrow opening between the rocks. Screams echoed behind him. Screams of his tribe, of goblins dying. But he didn''t look back. His body trembled. His legs burned. He burst out of the cave, gasping for air, and plunged into the darkness of the forest. The world spun around him. His heart pounded so hard he could barely hear anything else. He collapsed to his knees, hands grasping at the cold earth, sucking in deep breaths. Then he felt it. Something inside him was burning. His body was boiling. Something inside him was growing, pulsing like a fire he had never felt before. His vision blurred, as if everything around him was trembling. The ground beneath him began to vibrate. The air grew heavy. Grekh opened his mouth, but no sound came out. His chest burned. His mind screamed. Then everything exploded in light. The Blue Flame in The Darkness The world had exploded in light. For an instant, Grekh lost all sense of time and space. There was no more forest, no more sounds of battle, not even the feeling of his own body. Just a blinding blue radiance, an energy so intense that it seemed to devour everything around him. The heat was unbearable, yet it did not burn him. It was a raw, primal force, something that roared inside him like a caged beast trying to escape. He felt it spreading through every inch of his body, like a river of fire coursing through his veins. His muscles were stiff, trembling, refusing to respond. His heart pounded like a war drum. Then, the light began to fade. Grekh fell to his knees on the scorched ground, gasping, his eyes wide. His entire body trembled. Every cell of his being felt rewritten by that unknown force. He opened and closed his fingers slowly, still feeling the residual heat pulsing in his skin. That was when he noticed the silence. The battlefield, once filled with screams and the clash of blades, was now a void of absolute stillness. The humans were frozen. Their eyes, which once carried contempt and sadistic amusement, were now wide with pure terror. None of them moved. None of them breathed loudly. It was as if they were standing before something they were never meant to witness. One of the soldiers, a young man with a crooked helmet, swallowed hard and murmured, his voice weak: ¡ª This¡­ this isn''t normal... Another, older, took a step back, his fingers clutching the hilt of his sword so tightly that his knuckles turned white. ¡ª This isn''t possible. Goblins¡­ goblins don''t have magic. Grekh knew that too. But then¡­ what was this? Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. He didn''t have time to think. The leader of the group, a warrior with deep scars across his face and armor worn by time, did not hesitate like the others. His eyes still burned with determination, even if a hint of fear trembled in his gaze. ¡ª Kill him! Now! The order sliced through the air like a whip. The soldiers charged. Grekh felt his instincts scream. And then, something inside him reacted. The flames erupted again, stronger than before. It was as if the earth had been struck by thunder. The ground cracked beneath his feet, a wave of blue fire spreading like a raging storm. The nearest trees trembled violently, their leaves turning to ash in an instant. The impact was brutal. The humans were thrown back like leaves in the wind. Their armor clattered, their bodies twisted in the air before slamming against trunks and stones. Some landed face-first, coughing blood, while others rolled across the ground, struggling to regain their footing. Grekh remained at the center of the storm of energy. His eyes glowed an intense blue, as if magic itself was flowing through them. His breathing was ragged, his fingers trembled, but he felt no fear. He felt something else. Something primal. He saw the warriors'' leader rise again, gritting his teeth. His helmet had been torn away, revealing a face scarred and dripping with sweat. But his expression was no longer the same. Now, fear was there. ¡ª Damn it¡­ ¡ª the man muttered, spitting onto the ground. ¡ª I won''t run from a goblin! He charged. The sword gleamed under the moonlight, its blade clean, sharp, thirsty for flesh. Grekh felt his heart race. And then, the blue flame inside him responded. This time, he didn''t have to think. His body already knew what to do. He raised his arm. A torrent of blue fire burst from his palm. The warrior had no time to react. The magic engulfed him completely. His scream tore through the silence of the night, a sound of pure horror and agony. The fire consumed his body without mercy, devouring his flesh, burning every part of him in an overwhelming blaze. And then, he was gone. When the flames finally dissipated, there was no man left. Only ashes. The other soldiers watched in utter horror. Their eyes, once merely frightened, now brimmed with absolute despair. One of them, shaking, dropped his sword and took a step back. ¡ª R-run¡ª He never finished his sentence before his own comrades were already fleeing. Fear had overtaken them completely. The humans, who moments ago had advanced with arrogance, now ran like desperate animals. They abandoned everything¡ª weapons, shields, even their fallen allies. The massacre they had intended to inflict had become their own. Grekh stood still, watching them disappear into the forest. Had he¡­ won? He looked around. Goblins'' bodies lay scattered across the ground. Some still bore frozen expressions of pain, their empty eyes staring into nothingness. The scent of blood was thick in the air, mingling with the smell of charred wood and shattered earth. His tribe''s cave was in ruins. The fire that once warmed his home was now nothing more than dying embers. He stumbled forward, feeling his strength abandoning him. There was no one left to celebrate his victory. No one. He felt no pride. No glory. Only a growing emptiness, a void opening inside him. Exhaustion struck like a hammer. His legs gave out. He collapsed to his knees, his arms heavy as stones. His breathing grew shallow, his vision blurred. His entire body was drained. It was as if that explosion of power had siphoned away all his energy, leaving him teetering on the brink of collapse. He tried to understand what had happened. But his mind was hazy. What¡­ was that fire? Why could he control it? He was a goblin. Goblins didn''t have magic. So, why? Why? He felt the ground beneath him, damp and cold. The blood mixed with the earth formed a dark sludge. The bodies around him were just twisted shapes in the dim light. His heart was still racing, but with each passing second, its rhythm slowed. The moon, once bright in the sky, now seemed blurry, as if it too were fading along with his consciousness. His eyes, once wide in shock, now began to close. A final breeze swept through the clearing, carrying with it the scent of blood, ash, and iron. Before his vision went completely dark, a single thought echoed in his mind. What am I? Then, everything turned black. The Cold of Loneliness Darkness stretched in every direction. It was a void without shape, without color, without sound. Grekh floated within this nothingness, his consciousness vague, trapped between reality and the unknown. He could feel his body, yet at the same time, he felt nothing. There was a sense of weight, but he had no idea where he was. Memories came in flashes. The blue flare. The screams of the humans. The burning pain within him. The scent of blood, iron, and ashes. The power. The destruction. Then, suddenly, the void shattered. The cold was the first thing he felt. It was sharp, sinking deep into his bones. A frigid wind blew over his skin, making his tense muscles contract involuntarily. His breath was short and uneven, each inhale a small struggle against the numbness creeping through his body. He tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids were heavy, as if weighted down by stones. His body lay on the hard, uneven ground. The strong smell of wet earth mixed with the bittersweet odor of burnt wood filled his nostrils. Something metallic and bitter lingered in his mouth¡ªblood. He tried to move. A weak groan escaped his throat as a throbbing pain coursed through his body. It felt as if every muscle had been twisted, crushed, and then left to rot. His chest felt like a block of stone, heavy and sore, and his head pounded as if he had been struck by a boulder. With effort, he opened his eyes. The sky above was a black canvas speckled with cold, indifferent stars. The moon hung high, shining pale over the shadows of the ruined trees. The air was thick with the dampness of the night, and a thin mist was beginning to spread across the ground, creeping like specters over the scattered corpses. The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. He blinked, feeling the weight of exhaustion pressing down on his body. Then, he realized. The silence still dominated everything. No sounds of insects, no rustling leaves in the wind. Not even the distant crackle of fire. Just a void of sound, an emptiness that amplified the feeling of isolation. Grekh forced himself to sit up, gritting his teeth against the effort. His entire body protested, and he nearly fell back, but he planted his hands on the cold ground and remained upright. That was when he saw it. The battlefield was a graveyard. The goblins'' bodies were strewn across the ground, some still clutching their crude weapons, as if they had fought until the bitter end. Dried blood stained the earth, darkening the leaves and tree trunks. The stench was thick, suffocating¡ªa mixture of burnt flesh and oxidized iron, hanging heavy in the air. The cave¡­ He turned his head slowly toward the entrance of what had once been his home. Or at least, what was left of it. The ceiling had partially collapsed, massive rocks blocking the passage, and the fire that had burned inside had reduced everything to rubble. Ash covered the ground like dead snow. No one had survived. The weight of that reality struck Grekh like a punch to the gut. He stood, dizzy, his heart pounding inside his chest. His breath was uneven, and a bitter taste rose in his throat. He was alone. Completely alone. The tribe he had known since birth¡­ was gone. The rough, mocking laughter of the older goblins. The grumbling of the children fighting over scraps of food. The warmth of the fire on cold nights, the feeling of belonging, even within the brutality of tribal life. All of it was gone. Grekh felt his chest tighten, but he couldn''t tell if it was sadness, anger, or something worse. He walked toward the ruins of the cave, his feet dragging over the cold earth. Each step echoed in the silence of the night. He knelt near a pile of rocks and ran his hand over the scorched ground. There was nothing to bury. Nothing to remember. The only thing left was ash and death. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to take a deep breath. His body was still weak, but he knew he couldn''t stay there. The humans could return. They could bring more warriors. More hunters. And he¡­ He didn''t know what he was. The blue fire still flickered in his mind. He looked at his own hands, trying to feel the energy that had erupted from him before. But now¡­ nothing. No spark. No warmth. He didn''t understand. Why had that happened? Why had he, a goblin, been able to wield something impossible for his kind? The question spun inside him, growing like a thorn lodged in his mind. But at that moment, the only thing that mattered was survival. He had no food. No weapons. No home. He needed to find shelter before the night became even crueler. Slowly, he stood, feeling a sharp pain in his side. Maybe a fractured rib. Maybe something worse. But it didn''t matter. He was alive. And as strange as it felt, that seemed¡­ wrong. He started walking, leaving behind the wreckage of what he had once called home. The forest closed in around him, its long shadows dancing under the moonlight. The cold bit into his skin, and every nocturnal sound made his ears twitch, alert. With each step, his mind kept trying to understand what had happened. The blue flame. The terror in the humans'' eyes. The absolute silence after the destruction. He should be dead. He knew that. But for some reason, he was alive. And it wasn''t just that. Something inside him had changed. His eyes turned toward the darkness of the forest. If his tribe no longer existed, then he had to move forward. But where? Goblins had no permanent homes. His tribe was all he had ever known. He couldn''t simply join another group and expect to be accepted. Not after what had happened. Because deep down, he knew¡­ He was no longer just an ordinary goblin. He had become something different. Something no one had ever seen before. And the world would not let him forget that. Survival in the Darkness The biting wind howled through the twisted trees, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and death. The moon, high in the sky, cast its pale light over the field of destruction that had once been his tribe. But Grekh did not look back. His feet sank into the cold mud as he walked aimlessly, without direction. Every step was a challenge, his weak and wounded body protesting each movement. But he couldn''t stop. Not now. His chest still burned, a hollow sensation where that fierce energy had once been¡ªthat blue flame that had destroyed everything around him. He stretched out his hands before him, observing them in the moon''s faint glow. They were the same dirty hands as always¡ªrough, stained with soot and dried blood. But something within them was no longer the same. He tried to concentrate, to feel that force once more. Nothing. No spark, no heat¡ªnothing but the cold that now dominated his body. What happened to me? The question spun in his mind like an endless echo. He had never heard of goblins possessing magic. Humans? Yes. Elves? Always. Even dwarves had their enchanted runes. But goblins? They were the weak, the disposable, the prey of hunts and massacres. And yet... he had done it. He had killed humans with fire. Fire that should not exist. His stomach growled, dragging him back to the harsh reality. It didn''t matter what had happened. Now, he had to survive. Grekh looked around, analyzing his surroundings. The dense forest stretched in all directions, its dry branches forming ghostly shadows under the moonlight. The ground was covered with dead leaves, exposed roots, and cold mud. His instincts screamed that he was not alone. The forest at night was never silent for long. He stopped, sharpening his ears. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Far off, a rustling in the underbrush. Something small, but agile. Not a human. Perhaps an animal. Perhaps something worse. His body tensed. He had no weapons. No knife, not even a sharpened stick. Only his empty hands and an exhausted body. Whatever it is, it''s watching me. Grekh slowly slid backward, stepping carefully to avoid making noise. He needed to hide, to find shelter before something decided that a lone goblin would make for an easy meal. He walked a few more meters, his eyes scanning the forest for anything he could use to his advantage. Then he saw it. A narrow crevice between two moss-covered rocks. Too small for a human to pass through, but perfect for someone his size. Without hesitation, he slipped inside, curling up in the darkness of the tight cave. The scent of damp earth surrounded him, and the sensation of being enclosed by solid stone brought a fleeting sense of relief. He sat against the cold wall and took a deep breath. What do I do now? His eyes closed for a moment. Exhaustion threatened to consume him entirely, but he knew that sleeping out in the open was an invitation to death. He needed to think. Food. Water. A better shelter than this hole. He opened his eyes again, staring at his hands. Still nothing. Did the magic disappear? Was it just an accident? Or would it return when he least expected it? The thought did not comfort him. He remained there, quiet, listening to the forest breathe around him. The cold bit into his skin, and his stomach twisted with hunger, but he ignored it. For now, simply being alive was a miracle. And he would not waste it. --- The morning came slowly, bringing with it a grayish glow that barely pierced the thick canopy of the trees. Grekh dragged himself out of his improvised cave, his muscles sore and his mind still clouded by exhaustion. He needed to move. His feet sank into the damp ground as he walked, keeping his ears attuned to any strange sounds. The world seemed different now¡ªevery shadow seemed to hide something dangerous, every noise sent chills down his spine. He sniffed the air. Water. There was stronger moisture in the air, and the scent was clean, fresh. A stream, perhaps. He followed his instinct, moving between the twisted trees until he found a small brook cutting through the forest. The crystal-clear water flowed over smooth stones, glistening under the dim morning light. He knelt and plunged his hands into the cold water. The sensation was invigorating, and he drank quickly, ignoring the pain in his empty stomach. If I don''t find food soon, it won''t matter if I''m alive. He looked around, searching for anything edible. Roots, berries, anything. But the forest here seemed cruelly barren. Then, he heard it. The sound of something moving in the water. He looked at the brook and saw them. Fish. They weren''t large, but there were many of them. His heart raced. If I can catch one, I''ll have food. But how? He had no net, no spear, nothing he could use. Except¡­ He looked at his hands. What if¡­? His chest tightened at the thought. But he had no choice. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He recalled the sensation from before. The heat rising within him. The pressure. The power. Nothing. Frustrated, he clenched his teeth and plunged his hands into the water, trying to grab a fish by force. But they were too fast. He fell face-first into the shallow current, feeling the icy water seep into his skin. He growled, irritated, punching the water. Then, he felt it. A spark. A faint warmth, almost imperceptible, pulsing inside him. His eyes widened. It was weak, distant, but it was there. The blue flame still existed. But it was hiding. And somehow, he knew¡­ It was waiting to awaken again. He pulled away from the brook, taking a deep breath. Not now. He needed to understand it before the magic consumed him. But now, he had something more urgent to take care of. Survival. He wiped his face with his hands and looked around. The forest was cruel, but he would not die here. If the blue fire wanted him to live, then he would live. And he would find out what he truly was. With one last look at the brook, he stood up. And moved forward, in search of a new tomorrow. The First Smile The forest seemed to close in around Grekh, its shadows stretching like claws reaching out to drag him into the unknown. The air was thick with humidity, heavy with the scent of damp earth, mingling with the metallic aroma of the dried blood still clinging to his skin. His steps were slow and deliberate, his breath uneven, as he pushed forward through the dense undergrowth. Every sound made his muscles tense. Leaves rustled at the faintest whisper of the wind. Dry branches snapped under the unseen weight of creatures lurking in the dark. The sounds were normal for a living forest¡ªbut something was wrong. There was a presence here. He could feel it. Since leaving the ruins of his tribe, his instincts had been screaming that something was watching him. It wasn''t human¡ªthe scent was different, more primitive, more bestial. The weight of an unseen gaze followed him, hidden among the trees. He tried to ignore it, forcing himself to move forward. He had no strength left to fight. His body was weak, his wounds still open, and hunger gnawed at his insides like invisible blades. But stopping was not an option. If he stopped, he would die. The sky was pitch black, devoid of the moon''s guiding light. Only Grekh''s amber eyes cut through the darkness, catching the slightest movement between the gnarled trunks of ancient trees. The night was cold. Then, the scent changed. It came suddenly and violently. The stench of rotting flesh flooded the air, thick and suffocating. Grekh froze, his muscles tightening like drawn bowstrings, ready to snap. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. He knew this smell. Death. It was different from the scent of fresh blood, different from the iron tang of human weapons. It was something deeper, more primal. Something that hunted. Slowly, he turned his head, forcing his vision to adjust to the darkness. That was when he saw them. Two glowing red eyes burned between the trees, smoldering like embers in the night. They were low to the ground, moving slowly, studying him. A predator. His fingers curled instinctively. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, so loud he feared the creature might hear it. He took a step back. The beast lunged. The air was torn apart by a deep, guttural snarl¡ªa sound that rumbled through the earth, vibrating in his bones. The ground trembled as the creature surged forward, its massive paws crushing dry leaves and sending dirt flying in every direction. Grekh threw himself to the side on pure instinct. The shadow streaked past him like a living nightmare, the sheer force of its movement stirring up dust and wind. Before he could recover, the beast had already pivoted, its massive claws digging into the earth. Then, for the first time, he saw it in full. The faint light filtering through the forest canopy revealed a body cloaked in thick black fur, rippling over powerful muscles. It was larger than any wolf or predator he had ever seen. Its claws were long as iron blades, glinting like daggers, and thick saliva dripped from its gaping maw, revealing jagged fangs that gleamed in the dim light. Grekh''s breath caught in his throat. He couldn''t outrun it. The creature was too fast. Too strong. He had no weapons. He had nothing. The beast lunged again. Grekh tried to roll away, but he was too slow. The creature''s clawed paw slashed through the air, catching his shoulder and sending him flying. Pain. His body crashed against a tree, the impact forcing the breath from his lungs. A sickening crack echoed through the forest, and fire lanced through his ribs. He hit the ground, gasping. The beast stalked toward him. Time slowed. Grekh saw the steam rising from its mouth, felt the sickening heat of its breath, heard the soft crunch of every deliberate step. This was the end. The beast tensed for the final blow. Then, it happened. The heat. That same heat. Erupting inside him like a volcano about to explode. The world around him shimmered, warping as if caught in a mirage. Grekh felt his chest expand, as though something inside him was struggling to break free. His skin tingled, his vision blurred. The beast attacked. And Grekh roared. But it was no ordinary scream. It was a howl of raw energy. The blue flame exploded from within him. It was as if the sky itself had cracked open with a bolt of lightning. The light was so blinding that, for a moment, night turned to day. A shockwave of energy surged through the forest, igniting dry leaves, splitting the earth, and slamming into the creature with the force of a storm. The beast was thrown backward, its massive body twisting in the air before smashing into a tree. The trunk shattered on impact. The blue fire still flickered around Grekh, dancing along his arms, licking his skin without burning him. He stared at his hands. The flames were still there. And for the first time, he knew that they were his. The beast thrashed on the ground, its fur still ablaze. Its screams had changed. They were no longer filled with rage. Now, they were filled with terror. The acrid scent of burning flesh flooded the air. The creature tried to rise, its legs trembling. Then, finally, it collapsed. The only sound left was Grekh''s labored breathing. The energy still pulsed through his veins. But slowly, the blue fire faded. The cold of the forest returned, wrapping around him once more. His body trembled. Not from fear. But from something new. Power. His legs gave out, and he sank to his knees. His chest rose and fell, sweat dripping down his brow. He had won. He, a goblin. He, a creature meant to be weak, disposable, insignificlant. He had killed a monster with magic. His breath slowed. Silence fell upon the forest. Then, for the first time since his tribe had been massacred¡­ He smiled.