Chapter 136 The Crowd

As Hermit's consciousness slowly emerged from the depths of sleep, he felt a sudden jolt of panic coursing through his veins. His eyes shot open, but only darkness was present. He blinked desperately but there was nothing but darkness. A surge of terror engulfed him when he realized he was trapped inside the barrel again. Disoriented and confused, he attempted to move, but his body was restrained, trapped within the suffocating darkness of a tight space.

His heart pounded furiously within his chest, the rhythm mirroring the frantic beat of a caged bird desperate to break free. The air felt thin, stifling, as if each gasp he took only served to intensify the constricting grip around his chest. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, his trembling fingers searching for any glimmer of hope in the abyss that surrounded him.

Hermit's mind flashed back to the agonizing torments he endured on his treacherous journey, he remembered the pain, the vomit-inducing smell, and the feces taste in his mouth etching scars upon his fragile mind. His claustrophobia seized him with an unyielding grip. The confined space, the suffocating darkness, triggered a storm of nightmarish flashbacks, each one a vivid tapestry of suffering and despair. Images of the prison cell, the relentless torture, the gnawing hunger, David's sadistic beating and torture, the nightmarish trip trapt inside the barrel as he was bathing inside his own sewage, and the searing pain clawed at his sanity, threatening to engulf him once again.

Hermit's chest heaved as he struggled for breath, his senses heightened to the point of sensory overload. The tight space of the barrel seemed to press against his body, reminding him of the torture he endured inside the acidic pouch of a carnivorous plant. His skin started to itch remembering the burning acid. Every movement sent waves of agonizing misery through his fragile frame, amplifying his claustrophobic terror to unbearable levels.

Tears mingled with the sweat on his face, his sore throat formed a knot straining his cries for help. His skinny hands, trembling with a mixture of terror and desperation, his tiny little fingers clawed at the unforgiving walls of his prison, his nails leaving futile marks upon the unyielding surface.

Consumed by the horror of his entrapment, Hermit's fragile mind shattered. Madness gripped his sanity, twisting his features into a grotesque mask of terror. With feeble strength, he repeatedly slammed his head against the unforgiving lid of the barrel, an instinctual attempt to break free from this nightmarish captivity. Each collision sent jolts of pain rumbling through his skull.

In a wild frenzy, Hermit's head popped out from the barrel, his mouth forced open wide as an unearthly screech tore through the air. His eyes bulged out of their sockets, reflecting sheer terror. His face resembled that of a newborn bird, its beak stretched open in a desperate cry for help as he screeched. As his head suddenly burst out of the barrel, his eyes met with the sun, temporarily blinding him, and his eyes burned as if set on fire. Blinded and surrounded by the hateful crowd, he panicked even more. He started to flail his arms and scream at the crowd like a wild cat whose tail had been stepped on.

The crowd froze in terror as they saw a goblin burst out of the barrel with a crazed scream. The crowd was so shocked to see a monster appear out of nowhere that they didn't know how to react. 

Some started to scream, "What is a monster doing in town?" 

Others began to harbor suspicions, asking themselves, "Why are adventurers carrying a monster with them? Why are they sneaking monsters into town?" 

Yet another person demanded answers in rage, "Are you out of your mind? Bringing monsters into the town? What is the meaning of this?"

As the group faced the sudden and unexpected confrontation, a sense of panic washed over them. Larry desperately searched for an answer, a solution that would appease the growing crowd and allow them to pass with Hermit. Yet, deep down, he knew that no explanation would satisfy the enraged mob. Their minds were clouded by anger, and reason seemed futile in the face of their relentless fury.

With each passing second, the crowd swelled in size, its clamoring voices echoing through the air. Time slipped through their fingers, and the thought of the arrival of the guards only added to the urgency of the situation. Larry's heart sank as he realized the grim reality: if this mob got hold of the goblin, their thirst for vengeance would tear him apart, piece by agonizing piece.

Larry felt the desperation welling up within him, his instincts urging him to make a break for it. But the crowd had blocked their escape route, and the faces of Larry and his group were all too familiar to the townsfolk. There was no evading their wrath; the realization settled heavily in Larry's mind. The fate that awaited the goblin was a gruesome one, sealed by the hands of enraged people consumed by their anger and fear.

But David stepped forward, his voice loud and clear as he spoke, "Great people of Rockmine! Listen well and listen now! This is indeed a monster, a wretched goblin, a freak if you must! We have captured it and brought it here to be lynched in front of the crowd in the grand arena of the Coliseum for everyone's amusement! But you must be wondering why we carry it in a simple barrel instead of a cage. Well, that's because this goblin is so pathetic and weak that even a child could overpower it! There is nothing to be feared!"

However, the crowd was not fully satisfied with his speech and demanded that they get rid of the goblin. This was exactly what David wanted to hear. Finally, his chance to kill that damn goblin for good. He grabbed Hermit by the face and ripped him out of the barrel. While holding him up, facing the crowd, and pointing Hermit's naked and mangled body to them, he said, "So, do you want this disgusting goblin dead, right here, right now? Well, who am I to disagree?"

Larry was about to intervene and stop David, but Suzuka held him back, saying, "Don't, Larry. Things will escalate if you stand up for the goblin. I understand the frustration, but we can't become the enemy here and be hated. We would tarnish our reputation and good name. Think of a plan while David buys us time with his nonsense."

David wanted to savor this moment, so he restrained his strength against the feeble goblin. He shouted to the crowd, "But killing him in one strike would be boring to watch! How about a duel? Me against the goblin! And let's not forget the stakes. If he wins and defeats me, we'll spare his life. If he fails, well, he dies!"

The crowd grew somewhat excited, with some shouting in agreement, others expressing anger, and some voicing their disagreement. But David didn't care either way; all he wanted was to inflict the most agonizing pain on the goblin. He picked up a long wooden stick that was nearby and threw Hermit into the air. Gripping the stick firmly with both hands, he swung at Hermit as if he were a ball, striking his back and breaking the stick in half. The goblin crashed to the ground, his spindly little arms reaching for his back while writhing in pain and screaming for help. "Khyeeeee!! Khreeee! It hurts! The pain! Please! Have mercy! Hermit begs for mercy! Hermit doesn't want to die! Help! Someone! I submit, I submit! Khreeee!"

The crowd suddenly fell silent, hearing the monster uttering words in a language similar to their own. Their anger and confusion subsided. But David didn't care at all; he urged the goblin, "Disgusting freak! Pick up that stick and fight me! If you can land at least one hit on me, you win and you're free to go! Now, get up and fight! You filth!"

Hermit didn't want to fight, he was a peaceful goblin and turn his back on David. His little wrinkled legs scurried toward the crowd, his tiny bare child-like feet taping against the stone pavement while he screeched, "Please! Humans! Show mercy, help Hermit! Hermit hates violence! No more pain, no more torment, please! Hermit wants to live in harmony with people!"  

But his plea was met with a kick to the face by a random man from the crowd. His body flew through the air and crashed into David's feet. The goblin gasped for air while clenching his bleeding mouth violently squirming from the pain. David looked at the goblin from above with a sadistic smile etched on his face and wiped his feet in Hermit then mockingly kicked him off his shoe. The goblin rolled over a few feet away and David threw the stick at him commanding, "Pick that stick and fight. You damn coward!"

The goblin, driven by desperation, picked up the stick and struggled to rise from the ground. His skeletal hands shook and wobbled as he pushed himself up, his breath heavy. Tears welled up in his eyes. He finally managed to stand, but his scrawny legs trembled uncontrollably, causing his entire body to violently shake. However, David enjoyed the moment, relishing his enemy's suffering. 

"Listen well, you cursed goblin!" David shouted, his voice laced with malice.

 "I'll give you a free shot. Strike me wherever you like. Who knows, maybe you'll hit me and earn your freedom! You have my word, I promise." He taunted, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

The goblin desperately scanned the crowd, their hateful gazes piercing his skin like searing blades. Consumed by fear and terror, he summoned what little strength he had left, raising the stick above his head with grueling effort. His trembling legs carried him toward David in short, trembling steps. His miniature frame scurried across the stone pavement, his teeny tiny feets clapped against the cold stone with each smallish step he took. The sight was pathetic; his diminutive stature was less than half of David's, and his legs and hands were no thicker than the stick he held.

His skeletal naked form scurried closer to David, but even then, he stumbled and fell. David burst into sadistic laughter, reveling in his taunting of the goblin.

 "Hahaha! I even gave you a free shot, and you can't even manage to swing at me! How much more pathetic can you get? Here, let me give you another chance. Forget defeating me, if you land at least one hit on me, you win, I'll even close my eyes! All you need to do is tap me and you're free to go, I promise. Hahaha!"

Hermit pushed himself up, raised the stick once again, and resumed his feeble attempt to scurry toward David. He swung at him, but David effortlessly parried the weak attack, sneering, "Well, you had your chance! Now it's my turn!"