The Silence After the Storm
When the battle ended, silence descended like a shroud. Not the silence of peace, but of exhaustion, grief, and disbelief.
The once-vibrant forest clearing was unrecognizable. Trees leaned at odd angles, their bark charred black. Roots jutted out of the soil where Zerath's magic had torn them free. Blood pooled in the low places, mingling with ash until the earth itself looked wounded.
Bodies littered the field. Adventurers lay broken beside goblins, their weapons cracked and scattered. The wolves paced through the ruins, sniffing the air, occasionally nudging fallen comrades with mournful whines. The acrid sting of smoke still hung heavy, but the fire was dying.
For the first time since his reincarnation, Luminus felt the sheer weight of what he had wrought. He stood tall, his form still glowing faintly, yet inside he was… hollow.
He had protected his people.
He had destroyed his enemies.
And yet, staring at the battlefield, it felt less like victory and more like tragedy.
---
Mira was the first to break the stillness. She strode into the clearing, her blade dragging, her voice steady though her eyes glistened.
"Gather the bodies," she ordered. "Goblins to the east. Adventurers to the west. We bury our own. The forest can decide what to do with the rest."
Kairn grunted but obeyed, hoisting corpses onto his massive shoulders as if they weighed nothing. Tarin moved silently, collecting arrows, his face unreadable. Zerath's great wooden limbs groaned as he bent to lift goblin children who had fallen among the fighters.
One by one, the survivors carried their dead back toward the village.
Rugo and his wolves carried no words—only grief. They dragged goblin corpses gently, carefully, as though carrying pups. Occasionally, they snarled at the adventurer bodies, but never desecrated them. Even beasts knew the battle was over.
Luminus watched them all, his form trembling slightly. For every goblin saved, three had been lost. He could feel the despair in the air, could see it in their eyes. They had followed him, trusted him—and many had paid with their lives.
Was this the price of kingship?
--
Among the adventurers who survived, only a handful remained. Most had fled into the forest, broken and terrified. Of the few who stayed, Brenna stood at the center, shield still lying at her feet.
She looked like a statue—motionless, her eyes fixed on the bodies being carried past. Blood coated her armor, some hers, most not.
When Mira approached, blade still in hand, Brenna raised her chin.
"Kill me, if that is what you want," she said quietly. "But I will not raise my shield again. Not after this."
Mira's eyes narrowed. "Why did you stop fighting?"
"Because… I saw them." Brenna's voice cracked. "The way they protected each other. The way they died for each other. We called them monsters, but they looked no different than my own comrades falling beside me. If that is what monsters are… then what are we?"
Mira's hand tightened on her sword, but Luminus's voice cut through the tense air.
"She lives."
Both women turned to him. Luminus's form loomed in the fading light, his crimson eyes steady.
"Let her live," he said again. "She has seen the truth. Killing her now makes us no better than those who came to slaughter us."
Mira's jaw clenched, but she sheathed her blade. Brenna's shoulders sagged with relief and shame in equal measure.
"You… would spare me?" she whispered.
"I do not kill needlessly," Luminus replied. "Leave. Tell the others what you saw. Tell them we are not beasts to be culled."
Brenna bowed her head. "I will."
And with that, she gathered the few remaining adventurers and led them away, vanishing into the wounded forest.
---
That night, the goblins gathered in the heart of their village. A great pyre had been built—logs stacked high, soaked in oil pressed from forest fruits. Upon it lay the bodies of fallen goblins, shrouded in woven leaves and flowers.
The air was heavy with the scent of pine and ash. The younger goblins wept openly. The elders sang low, mournful chants in the old tongue, a song that carried their kin into whatever lay beyond.
Mira stood with her blade planted in the soil, head bowed. Kairn knelt beside the pyre, a silent sentinel. Tarin whispered the names of each fallen archer as the flames rose. Zerath's roots circled the gathering, glowing faintly, as if the forest itself wept with them.
Luminus stood before them all. His liquid body reflected the firelight, crimson eyes dim with sorrow.
"I swore to protect you," he said, voice low. "And still, so many have fallen. Their blood is on my hands as much as it is on the adventurers'. I will not ask for forgiveness. I will only promise this—"
He raised a hand, and his form rippled, casting long shadows across the village.
"—their deaths will not be in vain. The humans sought to break us. Instead, they have forged us stronger. We will not forget. We will not falter. From this day forward, we stand as one people. Not prey. Not vermin. But a nation."
The goblins roared in answer, a sound both fierce and grieving, echoing into the night sky. The fire blazed higher, as if the forest itself bore witness.
---
When the funeral ended, silence returned. Goblins drifted into their homes, clinging to their families. The wolves curled together in the ashes, their howls fading into mournful whimpers.
Luminus remained by the dying pyre. Alone.
His form rippled faintly as he stared at the embers. For the first time since his rebirth, he felt the weight of his humanity pressing in—memories of another life, another world. He remembered funerals of comrades long ago, remembered promises made and broken.
He had chosen this path. Chosen to protect.
But how many more would die for that choice?
The forest was quiet. Only the crackle of cooling wood answered him.
Then a soft voice broke the silence.
"You carry their grief too heavily."
It was Elira. She stood at the edge of the firelight, staff in hand, robes faintly glowing. Her face was weary, but her eyes… they were gentle.
Luminus turned toward her. "…You should not be here."
"And yet I am," she said simply. "I saw the battle. I saw what you did. And though it horrifies me… I cannot deny it."
She stepped closer, her gaze fixed on the embers. "You're no longer just a slime. No longer just a monster. The forest whispers a new name for you."
Luminus's crimson eyes flickered. "…And what name is that?"
Her lips trembled as she answered.
"Demon Lord."
The words hung in the night, heavy as the smoke.
And for the first time, Luminus did not deny them