Everything hurt. The human skull was one of the toughest bones in the body, and a goblin’s true physical might was still only that of a child, but everything still hurt. It was bursting down the base of his neck now, the spikes of pain that reverberated through his cranium. Nausea and dizziness were basic annoyances compared to the blood that was pouring over his face like a mask as the naked beast pounded with a frenetic pace, muddy waters splashing everywhere. He must have blacked out once, twice, maybe even more. It felt like an eternity.

But he committed. Matteo held on. Tight. Unbudging. A dead man’s grasp.

And the violence that Ash brought to reward his dedication ended everything in what must have been only a few seconds. The first slash cut into the goblin’s wrist as he lifted it up to block the blow. The second slash did as well. Then the third. Fourth. Fifth. Cutting away until fat coated the blade and she cracked through the arm and pounded away at the throat until thick redness bulged from the throat that bled internally and a dark, nauseous crimson spilled from the monstrosity. He gurgled, struggled still for another five blows, and then slowly, painfully, grinded to a stop. Monstrous as he was, he was so much smaller in death than he had been in life.

It was the deathrattle of his ally that made the goblin hesitate in his bareknuckled assault on Muu, giving her the opportunity to crack a stone against the monster’s skull. Blood spurt immediately from the wound as the green-skinned freak tumbled off, and Muu could have sworn she felt something give away at her blow as well, but though she braced herself for a renewed attack, the monster turned tail and fled instead, bounding away on four legs into the bushes. He couldn’t win, after all, not in these circumstances.

A “Wuoracc wuoracc” sounded while he tried to escape, the only noise left in the scene outside of the blood dripping and the lungs heaving.

In the fire pit, charred wood crumbled and crackled.

Do they pursue?