Taller than the other goblins. Maybe five and a half feet. It wore the mismatched armor Skuggi had seen yesterday, but up close the pieces looked more purposeful. A breastplate that actually fit. Gauntlets sized for its hands. A helmet that didn't sit crooked.

  And its eyes. Not hollow like the undead. Aware. Intelligent. Focused on Skuggi with an intensity that spoke of recognition.

  It spoke. Not the twisted common tongue of yesterday. Clear words, only slightly accented.

  "You see them right…." The hobgoblin pointed at the words above him. "The names of species given by the gods… what we truly are… the strings of destiny all over the bodies of the dead..."

  Skuggi's hand moved to his knife. "What do you mean, the strings of destiny all over the bodies of the dead?"

  "But you must see them. Just like the others..." It gestured vaguely toward everywhere, where the settlement would be, its creatures, and the bodies lying around. "It allowed them to see monsters for what they truly were…enemies, threats, or possibly allies. You see the threads of fate. The energy animating dead flesh. The necromantic binding."

  That could be true. Skuggi maybe could not see something directly in the undead goblins, but he could understand things that others couldn't. It probably had to do with his senses... like a smell or sound, but neither of those things. The hob goblin talked of an awareness of something unnatural holding the corpses together.

  He'd assumed everyone could sense it. But if they couldn't...

  "How do you know what I see?" Skuggi asked.

  The hobgoblin's mouth pulled into something that might have been a smirk. Wrong angles. Too many teeth.

  "Because I see it too, through the Eye of Odin, as the alchemists called it. The ability to perceive what lies beneath surface reality. To see magic, see life and death, and see the hidden architecture of the world."

  Skuggi's grip on the knife tightened. "Alchemists."

  "Yes. The same ones who made you." The hobgoblin took a step forward. "You didn't think you were unique, did you? The only success? They've been making things like us for decades possibly centuries, before mankind populated this land. Different purposes, testing the limits of the living and those beyond them. Evolving the same core process. The same fundamental changes to what we are."

  Behind Skuggi, Erik made a sound. Fear or shock. Astrid's breathing had gone rapid.

  "What are you?" Skuggi asked.

  "Grylkinh?einn. 'Higher Goblin' is what you could see over my head in what is supposed to be our secret language. One of twelve created to lead goblin hordes, to organize them, and to make them effective tools of war. "It touched its chest. "I was supposed to serve. To follow orders. To die for causes I didn't choose."

  "So you escaped."

  "So I took what was mine. The goblins I was meant to command. The territory I was meant to secure. The freedom I was meant to never have." The hobgoblin's eyes never left Skuggi's face. "Just as you took yours. Just as you ran from the place that made you."

  Skuggi said nothing. Every word was true. Every accusation landed.

  "We're the same," the hobgoblin said. "You and I. Made by the same hands for the same purpose… to be weapons that cannot think, tools that can't decide when to cut. The alchemists thought they could control us. They were wrong."

  "If we're the same," Skuggi said slowly, "then you know I can't let you take these people."

  "Why? They're nothing to you. Weak. Fragile. Temporary." The hobgoblin gestured at Erik and at the women. "You've seen what you can do. What you are. Why tie yourself to creatures that will die while you endure?"

  "Because they're not tools. Neither am I."

  "You're exactly a tool. That's all we'll ever be. The only choice we have is who wields us… others or ourselves." The hobgoblin's hand moved to a weapon at its side. A sword, actually forged steel, not improvised scrap. "I'm building something... an army... a force that answers to no lord, no kingdom, no master except me. You could be part of that. Could stop pretending to be human and accept what you are."

  "And if I refuse?"

  "Then you die protecting things that will die anyway. Pointless. Wasteful. Everything the alchemists made us, to never be."

  Skuggi looked at the hobgoblin. Saw the truth in what it said. They were similar… both modified, both escaped, both trying to figure out what to be now that the cages were open.

  But the hobgoblin had chosen to become what it was made to be. To embrace the violence, the domination, the reduction of others to resources.

  Skuggi was choosing something else. Didn't fully understand it yet. But I knew it wasn't this.

  "I refuse," he said.

  The hobgoblin sighed. "Disappointing. But expected." It drew its sword. "The alchemists made us durable. This will take time."

  Behind Skuggi, Erik tried to stand. Astrid pulled him back down.

  "Stay behind me," Skuggi said. Didn't take his eyes off the hobgoblin. "All of you. Don't move unless I tell you to run."

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  The hobgoblin smiled that wrong smile again. "Your companions are already coming. The full horde of undead will reach your settlement within the hour. Your people will die while you fight me here. You can't save them all."

  "I can save these three. That's enough."

  "Is it?"

  Skuggi pulled his knife. The waterskin of holy mead hung at his belt, but he didn't reach for it yet. Needed to see what the hobgoblin could do first. Needed to understand what modifications it had, what advantages the alchemists had given it.

  "It has to be," Skuggi said.

  Then the hobgoblin moved, and the fight began.

  The hobgoblin's sword came high. A testing strike, not committed.

  Skuggi sidestepped. His knife stayed low, ready to counter if the creature followed through.

  It didn't. Pulled back immediately. Reset its stance.

  They circled each other in the ruins. Broken timber and ash crunched under their feet. Behind Skuggi, Erik's breathing was ragged. Astrid had pulled him and Olga deeper into the cellar entrance.

  The hobgoblin moved again. Faster this time. A genuine attack… a blade cutting toward Skuggi's ribs.

  Skuggi caught the sword on his knife. Steel screamed against steel. The force of the impact traveled up his arm. He twisted, redirecting the blade past his body, and stepped inside the hobgoblin's guard.

  He drove his elbow into the creature's face.

  The hobgoblin's head snapped back but it didn't stagger. Just absorbed the impact and brought its sword around in a tight arc.

  Skuggi ducked. The blade whistled over his head. He kicked at the hobgoblin's knee.

  Solid impact. The joint bent but didn't break. The hobgoblin shifted weight, compensated, and brought the sword down in an overhead strike.

  Skuggi rolled left. The blade hit the ground where he'd been standing. It buried itself two inches into packed earth.

  He came up from the roll he just did. Slashed at the hobgoblin's exposed side. His knife found armor and scraped across the breastplate without penetrating.

  They separated again. They are both breathing hard now.

  The hobgoblin's fighting style was similar to a formal and trained one. Each strike came from a proper guard position. Each recovery moved back to a defensive stance. Someone had taught it swordsmanship… real technique, not just how to swing a blade.

  Skuggi fought like what he was. A hunter. Someone who used terrain, who struck from unexpected angles, who made the environment part of the weapon. He grabbed a piece of broken timber and threw it at the hobgoblin's face. When the creature batted it aside, Skuggi closed the distance again.

  His knife found the gap between the breastplate and the gauntlet. Drew blood. Not deep… the hobgoblin pulled back before he could sink the blade properly.

  "You're better than I expected," the hobgoblin said. No strain in its voice despite the combat. "The alchemists made you well, but I can see you left early in the process."

  "How many?" Skuggi asked. Kept circling. "How many others like us?"

  "Like us? Or like me specifically?"

  "Either."

  The hobgoblin lunged. Its sword thrust toward Skuggi's chest. Skuggi parried and felt the strength behind the strike. They locked blades for a moment. Faces close enough that Skuggi could see the details of the creature's features… the too-sharp teeth, the eyes that held something almost human.

  "Dozens," the hobgoblin said. "Maybe more. The alchemists don't share their full records. Each one makes their own subjects. Some work together. Most compete."

  They broke apart. Skuggi's arms burned from the strain of matching the hobgoblin's strength.

  "You were conscious during the modifications," Skuggi said. "You remember them."

  "I remember everything," the hobgoblin's sword came in low this time. Skuggi jumped back. The blade missed his thigh by inches. "Every cut. Every injection. Every time they opened me up to see if the changes were taking hold. I was their finest work, a subject who could observe and who could report on the internal experience of transformation."

  "That's nothing..."

  "Oh you believe you had it harder… That's their path of discovery" The hobgoblin pressed forward. Three strikes in quick succession: high, low, middle. Skuggi blocked the first, dodged the second, and caught the third on his knife. "They needed data. I provided it. In exchange, I got to stay aware. To understand what I was becoming instead of waking up changed without comprehension."

  Skuggi's mind worked through the implications. The hobgoblin knew more about the alchemists' work than he did. Had been awake, observant, recording everything.

  Was any of this true? Or was it feeding him lies, keeping him distracted while undead goblins marched on the settlement?

  He couldn't tell. The creature's face showed nothing. No tells, no micro-expressions that would indicate deception.

  "Why tell me this?" Skuggi asked. Ducked under a horizontal slash. Came up inside the hobgoblin's guard again. This time his knife found flesh, a cut across the creature's arm above the gauntlet. Blood flowed. Dark green, almost black.

  The hobgoblin hissed. Brought its sword's pommel around. Caught Skuggi in the temple.

  Stars exploded across his vision. He staggered back. The hobgoblin followed, pressing his advantage. Its sword came at him in a pattern: slash, thrust, slash. Skuggi blocked on instinct more than by sight. His head rang from the impact.

  "Because you deserve to know," the hobgoblin said. "You're stumbling blind through a world you don't understand. At least I can give you the knowledge that you dont need to be alone with these toys of fate. Despite not being unique, you can just be one experiment among many."

  Skuggi's vision cleared. He saw the hobgoblin winding up for a heavy overhead strike. Waited for it to commit. When the blade came down, he didn't try to block. Just move aside and let it bury itself in the ground again.

  This time he grabbed the hobgoblin's wrist. Pulled. Used the creature's momentum against it. He threw it over his hip.

  The hobgoblin hit the ground hard. Rolled immediately and came up with a sword ready.

  They were both bleeding now. Both are breathing harder. The fight had gone on longer than either had expected.

  "There are other forgotten facilities," the hobgoblin said. "Others with notes on alchemists. Not just the one you escaped from. They're scattered across territories, hidden in remote locations. Some could be given as work for kingdoms. Some for also have kept it for themselves. Some…" It lunged again. Skuggi parried. "Some collaborate. Share techniques. Share with subjects when they fail."

  "How do you know this?"

  "Because I asked before I killed them." The hobgoblin's sword found Skuggi's shoulder. Not deep… he'd turned at the last second. But blood ran hot down his arm. "The two alchemists who made me. I questioned them extensively before sending them."

  Skuggi's shoulder burned. The wound would heal fast—already was healing, tissue knitting back together faster than it should. But the damage was done.

  His knife was inadequate. Too short, too light. Every exchange with the hobgoblin's sword put him at a disadvantage. He needed something more. Something that could actually threaten the creature.

  His wrists itched. A phantom sensation he'd been ignoring since the fight started.

  The bone blades. The modification he'd discovered during his escape from the lab. The thing he'd used exactly once and never wanted to use again.

  But he was running out of options. The hobgoblin was faster than it looked. Stronger. Better trained. And while Skuggi could heal, so could the hobgoblin based on how quickly the cut on its arm had stopped bleeding.

  This could go on until one of them made a fatal mistake or the undead goblins arrived as backup.

  Neither outcome favored Skuggi.

  He needed to end this.

  Now…

  “???????? ??? ???????... ?????? ???? ?? ???????? ?? ?????? ?? ??? ?? ?????????...”

  “Monsters are mirrors... showing only the darkness we refuse to see in ourselves...”

  Did you like this chapter?