Goblin Kingdom (Part 1)

Goblin Kingdom - Volume 2: Intermission: Ancient Hero

StatusNameMidoRaceWerewolfLevel95ClassWarriorPossessed SkillsThe Right Hand of TyrannyDivine ProtectionWind GodAttributesWind

Carad was a demihuman born a slave. His father and his mother were both slave demihumans, though their brown fur was greatly praised within the Fang Tribe.

Carad was born a slave and grew up a slave, just like his mother and father who lived a life of slavery and eventually died a slave.

"Our ancestors once ran freely through the vast plains."

He still remembered the gentle voice of his mother.

"So why are we here? In a place like this?"

Life as a slave was horrible. They were forced to live in small rooms and were even forbidden from going out. They couldn't even eat their fill.

One day, when the elven children made him cry, he asked his mother that question.

"...Well, once upon a time, we suddenly found ourselves in the middle of a war, then before we knew it, we ended up here."

When Carad saw his mother's lonely face, he couldn't find it in him to ask any more.

But he knew that they were slaves without any rights, neither the right to live nor the right to die.

Eventually, his parents died, and some decades later, he suddenly found himself a part of a slave platoon headed to Sinfall.

"Yo, brother," a voice called out to him.

"You again," Carad said.

In front of Carad was a Fang Tribe youngster from another village.

"Don't be so cold," the youngster said.

"I don't have any business with you," Carad said.

"But I do. Brother, won't you come with us? We'll happily receive you."

This man has been pestering him since yesterday, asking him to come to their village.

There they could hunt as they please, fight as they please, and raise a family as they pleased.

"...Retreat is death. Every slave knows that," Carad said.

His nearby comrades who were like him all had resigned eyes. Slaves were usually killed whenever they ran to set an example.

"I don't know what happened to you in the past, but this is an opportunity. In order to be like our ancestors we're going to —Hey! Where are you going?"

"Sorry, but I want to work on my weapon. I want to increase my odds of surviving even a little."

"Not like you can call your current life 'living'."

Carat angrily turned back to the young man. "Even so, I don't want to die. That's why we..."

The man frowned. "There's still tomorrow. I hope you can give me a good answer then."

"I'm telling you, I—"

"I'll wait for you, brother."

The youngster turned around and walked away. On his back could be seen countless wounds, some still fresh.

"He's a slave too, isn't he? Why is he so persistent?" Carat muttered.

When he came back to his comrades, he started working on his rusted iron equipment. The leather armor they had were desperately made by the women even though they might never come home. Their armor was far inferior compared to the blue-silver steel the elves wore.