Chapter 9 8: Elric And Claude Vs Goblin

Pointed ears gazing skyward. A pulpy, crooked nose glaring down. The green being's brows were covered thick with hair and a jagged road of yellow and rot formed its teeth. Four bony limbs and a round face protruded out of its stout stomach as if they were pinned on it. Its scant fingers clenched a barbed club of stone, holding it next to the brown leather loincloth wrapped around its waist.

A coarse laugh rang out as its eyes widened. The laugh that would make milk sour and unripe fruits fall from trees sent Elric and Claude's blood curdling through their flesh, leaving behind goosebumps all over their skin.

A goblin.

That they had only seen in movies and shows, that they had read of in books and heard of in tales of old, that goblin stood in front of them.

The scant sunlight bouncing off its green, the grotesque blend of maggots and saliva dripping down its mouth, the small shakes of its hands, and the trembling of its irises.

Everything just drove the fact further in.

The goblin screamed and raised its club high up.

Not a thought entered his mind as Claude grabbed the stick. In one fell swoop, he gripped the stick with both hands and pivoted on his knees. The thin log of wood formed a wide arc in the air—

"KWA!"

—And crashed into the jaws of the goblin.

pαndα,noνɐ1,сoМ "Elric! RUN!!" Claude's scream was a beat too late.

Claude saw Elric dive to the ground just as the goblin raised its weapon. He scrambled against the dirt and the grass as he crawled away from the bush and the goblin. At Claude's scream, Elric turned back and saw him on his knees and the goblin swinging to the ground after the strike.

Claude's breath hastened at once as the plop of the Goblin hitting the ground sounded out in the forest. He placed a hand on his chest and used the stick to stand up.

A raspy growl spread from the goblin.

Claude once again froze in place, and so did Elric.

A bone-chilling laugh emerged as the goblin pushed the ground and stumbled to its feet.

Claude gulped and held the stick in front of him. His heart raced again as he saw the infernal creature pick up the stone club.

A breeze passed them by.

The goblin charged at once. The grotesque face of the monster was contorted with rage as it dragged its club from the side and swung it forward.

Claude jumped back and created a large gap between the two. He held the stick like a sword, in front of his eyes while staring at the goblin. The goblin charged in again, but it was too slow. Claude's weapon swerved and slammed on the collarbone of the monster.

"KWA!"

The goblin reeled back in pain at the impact as Claude pulled his stick and stepped back again.

He heaved over and over, not letting the goblin out of his sight.

It was different.

It was different from when he fought the templars of the church, from when he trained with practice swords and weapons.

The goblin charged in again. It swung the club from below and the boy immediately parried. He pushed the club back and stepped closer to the goblin, the stick tore through the air and thrust into the monster's stomach.

Claude could feel the flesh of the monster bending under the impact, as if it were a part of his body, he could feel the stick ram into the bones and the muscles quake under the pressure.

It was unsettling.

He was fighting something.

He was attacking with the intention to kill. His every swing held his strength.

Claude stopped going on the assault. With each swing, he would parry the goblin's strike and step back as he went deeper and deeper into his thoughts.

The idea of fighting. He had to strike the enemy down again and again. He had to batter it with attacks until its skull was crushed.

Claude, a child, a student, for him to kill anything was unimaginable. The thought pressed down on his heart and clasped the way to his chest, his breathing got shallower the more he fell into thought.

And then, he made a mistake.

A small stone came under Claude's feet, and he slipped.

Claude's eyes widened as his center of gravity shifted to the back. The ground was swept away from underneath him. His vision jerked upward.

A spiky mass of black approached from the top. A club, coming straight for his head.

Time seemed to have slowed down. At once, Claude's mind cleared away.

He was a fool. A mere fool.

He had trained with the knights, he knew his way with a sword, and so he took it lightly.

A goblin, he thought he could win, so he hesitated.

It was never about fighting. It was never about attacking the goblin and battering it.

It was about killing…

… or being killed.

The club had been swung down, he couldn't dodge anymore. A sharp pang spread through Claude's heart when he thought of Elric.

"<CREATE WATER>!"

A pailful of water came flooding in from above Claude. The mass of water splashed onto the goblin's face and knocked it back, the same water bounced off and landed on Claude's face.

This was it.

His chance.

Claude dropped the stick, twisted his body and broke his fall with his hands. He swept his legs back and hit the back of the goblin's knee. The goblin completely tripped over from the sudden attack.

In an instant, Claude shot off the ground. He stomped his foot down on the goblin's wrist, making its hand snap open. Before the abhorrent green monster could realize it, Claude had snatched its club.

There was no hesitation in his movements.

There was no delay in his actions.

"AAH!" Claude screamed and swung the club down. The spikes of the jagged stone club punctured through the goblin's head as blue-black blood gushed out of its wound.

Then, the club was raised again.

And again.

And again.

Drops of blood tainted Claude's face and his clothes. The red-haired boy panted as he dropped the bloodied club down on the ground, right on the mush of flesh and blood at his feet.

"Kill… or be killed…"