Attack On Monsters

Tyberius faced his oppressor, a crude stick clutched in his hand. It was thick, sturdy even, but pitiful when compared to the iron mace his opponent wielded.

"Come on, freak. Give it your best shot," Robert taunted, his voice laced with arrogance.

He didn't even raise his guard.

Why would he?

To him, Tyberius was nothing. Small, white, and weak, though a rare find, at the end of the day he remained just another goblin.

Robert was towering, built like a beast of war, armed to the teeth and overflowing with confidence. He had every reason to believe this fight would be over in seconds.

Tyberius understood that belief all too well. Physically, there was no comparison. If he was to win, if he even hoped to survive, he couldn't rely on brawn. No, this fight would be decided by wits.

Running wasn't also an option. Robert could easily close the distance, and then it'd be over. Tyberius had to stand his ground, outthink him, and seize whatever slim chance he had.

With a sharp breath, he made the first move, charging directly at him.

The man raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "Uhu…" he muttered, clearly unbothered by Tyberius's head-on approach.

But just before they clashed, Tyberius veered to the side, circling him with quick, unpredictable footwork. His movements were erratic, almost chaotic, forcing the Human to turn in place, tracking him with narrowed eyes.

Tyberius kept the pace up, darting around, never giving him a clean target, letting irritation worm its way into Robert's mind. His opponent's confidence began to show cracks, slight ones, but cracks nonetheless.

Agitated now, Robert struck.

He lunged forward with explosive force, bringing the heavy mace down in a brutal arc. Tyberius halted on a dime and spun, shifting directions instantly. He darted inward, attempting to dive under Robert's swing, aiming to topple him with sheer momentum.

But he was too slow.

With terrifying precision, Robert slammed a boot into Tyberius's gut.

Pain exploded through his torso. Air fled his lungs as he was launched backwards, crashing hard onto the dirt floor. His stick flew from his grasp, rolling somewhere behind him.

...

Dazed, Tyberius lay flat, a pounding ache echoing inside his skull. The world blurred, but he forced himself to sit up, groaning through clenched teeth.

Not far off, Laden had picked up his wooden training sword, the real fight apparently not brutal enough. Tyberius scrambled to his feet and sprinted toward where he'd dropped his weapon.

Too slow.

He heard footsteps thundering behind him. He twisted to look and!—

WHAM!

The wooden blade slammed down, barely missing his back as Tyberius rolled to the side, kicking up dirt in his escape. He didn't look back, pushing his legs harder, faster.

Finally, he reached it, his wooden sword.

He snatched it up, turned, and saw Laden closing the distance. No more games. They clashed.

Wood struck wood with fierce, echoing smacks. Each swing came with brutal intent, neither willing to yield, both refusing to retreat. Their strikes became sloppier as fatigue crept in. Despite the fire in their hearts, their bodies were giving out.

And then came the final charge.

Tyberius surged from the right, Laden from the left. The distance between them vanished in seconds.

Laden raised his blade, aiming for a clean diagonal slash.

Tyberius feinted.

He gave the illusion of mirroring the same upward strike, but mid-swing, he stepped forward sharply, closing in before Laden could react. His left arm shot up, blocking Laden's swing at the hilt, halting its momentum.

Then, with a growl, Tyberius brought his own blade forward, straight toward his opponent's throat.

Frozen.

Laden's breath caught as the wooden edge pressed lightly against his neck.

"My win," Tyberius muttered through ragged breaths, a tired smirk tugging at his lips.

"Enough," Kagon's voice boomed from the sidelines. "That's enough."

The overseer stepped forward, eyes scanning both fighters. "You have both demonstrated remarkable combat potential. I'm impressed."

But Tyberius wasn't.

To him, it wasn't an accomplishment. It wasn't even close.

He frowned, head bowed, thoughts spiralling. "This is a waste of time," he muttered under his breath.

Kagon's ears perked. "Is that what you think?"

Tyberius looked up, silent for a moment, then exhaled sharply, his restraint crumbling.

"Yes. That's exactly what I think," he snapped. "You really expect us to believe this matters? That our training, our effort… any of it makes a difference?"

He raised his head, this time with confidence in his eyes, he muttered, "What's the point of training when we'll always be prey to the superior races?"

He spat the words like venom. "No matter how hard we try, no matter what we do, it doesn't matter. A larger body always crushes the smaller one."

Silence.

...

"What the hell was that?" Robert muttered with disdain, shaking his head.

Tyberius had struck a pose during the match, proud, fierce, defiant. But now? All of this bravado had been nothing more than a facade. Under that was nothing worth showing off.

Defeated, Robert's disappointment was plain on his face.

Tyberius didn't blame him.

"Yeah... this was foolish," he thought bitterly. "A ridiculous front. I wanted to believe I was more than what I am, but I'm not." Ty admitted, talking to himself "I'm exactly what they say… a goblin. The weakest of the monster races."

...

Kagon took a step forward, eyes boring into Tyberius.

"Is that all you think you are? A weak, pathetic goblin doomed to live and die under someone else's heel?" he challenged. "Yes, size matters in combat. Yes, we goblins weren't born with power or pride. But so what?"

His voice thundered now.

"Is that a good enough reason to lie down and accept it? Is that a justification for weakness? To remain as we are and never change?!"

Tyberius stared back, jaw clenched.

Kagon's voice dropped, laced with disappointment. "Figured. Not everyone has the will to dream of freedom. And you, Tyberius? You've proven to be no different from the rest. Just another average goblin."

He turned his back.

"Go ahead then. Stay as you are. Be normal."

That word hit harder than any mace.

Normal.

No ambition. No fight. Just another nameless creature.

Tyberius's fists tightened.

...

"No!" he shouted. "No way! I refuse to be normal!"

He rose to his feet with renewed fire in his eyes. The pain was still there. The exhaustion too. But something deeper had ignited.

Within him, a newfound determination germinated, and it blossomed.