Ground? He’s still standing. The stench made him dizzy, his head spinning. How do these Dragon Dreamers resist it? Does the pure Joy of waiting for him fighting somehow suppress this foul smell? Their beating shield is loud, but at least it kept Cel awake. Even on six legs, it’s a struggle to keep standing.

  Gufam, the king of lions, forced out in front of him, inside the arena. This is the final, a fight between the damned one. The Lion King was also on its last leg, but it still held that regal feature it always carried. But only one of them lives; the plan has been finalized, and just another day of surviving is enough.

  Then why would Cel fight? Against the king, especially. They will need the King against the Dragon Dreamer. Not him. Certainly not him.

  “Fight,” The lion said. It let out a ragged growl. “Fight, Cel of the stag. If we're going to die, then do so fighting.”

  “You need to live, my king,” Cel said. His antler is hurt. He could feel it tearing at his brain, the amount of life he had taken with it. His own friend.

  “If you slay me, then you lead them. The strongest should lead.”

  The beat of the drum thumped, and the hollering of the Dragon Dreamers shook the sky itself. Three Kobold Bone Warriors enter the arena. They shouted at both of them. Cel did not know what they were saying, but he understood them. Fight or die.

  How unfortunate for them, this fight is not going to be the showdown they wanted.

  Cel charged at the King. His six legs propel him forward at a speed that is impossible for a four-legged animal. His antlers down, pretending to impale the Lion.

  “You’re faster than that!” Gufam screamed. He easily dodged. Whipping his tail to Cel's face, sending him sprawling to the ground. The pain is a brief one. Cel opened his eyes to Gufam swiping those fearsome claws at him, in a reaction that entirely his body, not his mind - Cel lurched forward, avoiding the swipe.

  Gufam growled at him. Then the king dipped his head, his regal mane swaying as the wind pushed it like a cloak.

  “Thank you, Cel. The others willingly let me kill them. You’re the only one resisting.”

  What? Why is he thanking him? It’s only natural to lay down your life for the King. What Cel has done is shameful, an action that amounted to treason. The plan, the King needed to be there to carry it. To drive the Dragon Dreamers out of their home. Without the king, it’s not possible, it's not…

  “My king-”

  “My friend,” The King said. “Take care of Lya for me. She’s in Sloma cave, by the ravine/ She should be well hidden, so please. When the reinforcement comes, run there, make sure she’s safe, and my cubs.”

  “I’m not going to kill you.”

  “You would rather die then?”

  “No,” Cel said. His heart clenched, and the shame inside of him echoed through his whole body. Oh, the nether take him… He did not want to die.

  “Then we fight.”

  Gufam bolted toward him, opening his razor-sharp teeth, something that Cel had always feared.

  The stag scurried backward, dodging the lion's swipe with relative ease. His six legs allowed him to maneuver on land that most couldn’t. Cel turned, rotating his body fully as he passed over another swipe by the lion. Momentum carried him forward, and he slammed his foremost leg to the lion's side.

  The king flew backward, rolling in a sickening crunch of body, toppling toward the frail wooden fence, knocking it down.

  Behind the fallen king sits another king - one that slumbers in a gilded wooden chair, a Kobold no bigger than others but covered entirely in golden, serpentine scales. Those natural molten armor looked like they cracked somewhere around its lithe stomach, no doubt because there wasn't enough gold to cover its entire body. The gold must have somehow fused into it, which is a colossal waste of precious material. But such greed, often leading to waste, is a second nature to the Kobolds, the Dragon dreamers.

  The Kobold King rose, its sleek, sinewy skin shining as the sun caught the golden implant. It roared, angry at something. At once, a couple of Kobold Bone Warriors went to Gufam, they raised him and threw the Lion back, facing Cel.

  Gufam's body sprawled, blood making its way down to his mane. Cel's kick has done its damage. The lion had been forced to fight, if not against his subject - he fought against a rival clan that hated him. No doubt he had been the main star of the Dragon Dreamer’s entertainment.

  “My King,” Cel called, then paused immediately. What is he supposed to say?.

  “Cel, my friend.” The lion stood, blood-soaked mane under his chin. “Will you let me live?”

  “What?” Cel's mind went blank. He just asked him to fight with all he’s got. What is this? Why did the King ask for such a thing? It does make sense. The plan; he needed to lead them, but this…

  Cel tried to find a word.

  He knew the word, but to even think of it is insulting to his King. To even think of it crushed something deep inside of him. A bizarre pride he had for someone else, someone who meant a great thing, like his king.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  “Pathetic,” He let the word out. The moment it left Cel’s mouth, everything but his sight turned white. The scream of Kobolds dimmed as a blank white sound enveloped him. He wished his sight were gone too, because what he saw is truly heartbreaking, for both him and Gufam.

  Tears streaked down the lion's eyes. Even with blood colouring his mane, Cel could only focus on those tears.

  “I am, aren’t I?” Gufam said.

  “I don’t-”

  “Yes, you do,” Gufam growled, then through tear-stricken eyes. His eyes soften. “Don’t lie to me in my final moment.”

  “You’re brave,” Cel lied. “A lion, an embodiment of our pride.” He lied. “You’ll always be my king,” He lied again.

  He knew his words were hollow to Gufam's ears. In front of him is no longer a King. Just a Lion worried about his loved one, a father who was willing to lay down his two hundred years of pride just to see them again. “Remember your promise.”

  “I do,” Cel choked out.

  Gufam - No, the King poured the last of his mana into his paw. A bright flame extended out, shaped as a long claw. The last mana of the King.

  Cel could make out how he struggled to stand; he’s without a doubt close to mind down. Still, the King’s Arcana pushes the claw further. A moment of dread burst inside of Cel. But, he knew if he just ran away… He knew the King would collapse.

  Pathetic. His voice echoed inside of him.

  Cel screamed to the sky, his voice crying toward the heavens. He suppressed the Kobold cheers, for a brief moment, it's his victory over the Dragon Dreamer.

  He pushed his mana to his antlers, but he made sure to leave just enough so he could avoid a mind-down state. His Arcana pushes his antlers, extending them also into a bright white, sharp blade.

  “You’re always magnificent.” The king could only smile as Cel’s antlers overgrew his claw. Yet, the King charged toward death.

  Cel met him, the moment his antlers met resistance - he pushed deeper, connecting to flesh. And he impales the King. The lion's head burst as his antlers skewered it.

  Cel shook off the body, in a wet splash of blood, and the headless King bled as an entertainment.

  Cel turned toward the other king. No… It’s not worthy to be called King. He will kill it. He will.

  —---------------

  “No regret, huh? You’re a bad liar, Cel,” Rue breathed out. Tear slackened from his eyes. Cel's cries have reached him; he could feel the emotion, a grief that thrummed inside, worming to his very soul.

  “You recovered enough, kid?”

  “Not as much as I wanted, but with the level up, I can fight.”

  Once they descended the tree, Paxwell spoke loudly over the brisk wind. “The plan is to pick the Kobold group per group once night arrives.” Eyes went to him, each held determination, from those who had climbed up at least. Even Gilbert nodded eagerly. Perhaps Rue had been too hard on the blue-haired man; he had fought well, so he made a mental note to try to get along with him.

  “What exactly do you lot see up there?” Clerence raised her brow. Rue had forgotten the fire mage was not with them on the tree.

  Paxwell, as the appointed leader, explained everything they saw. Now, they have a clear target. Cel, the six-legged stag.

  “I see,” Clerence muttered, her eyes carefully judging them. “I hate to say this, but don’t let this make each of you reckless, alright? This is still just a quest.”

  “It’s much more than that now!” Gilbert barked. His eyes blazed. “The poor stag-“

  “Anyway!” Eve cut him off, earning a glare from Gilbert. Rue made out a slight smirk on her lips, clearly, she had been waiting for that. “What’s the plan? If you need a healer in the front, I will go.”

  “Eve…” Yom sounded a protest.

  “Alquin is right, it’s much dangerous to stay weak,” Eve said, gripping Yom's hand.

  Rino put a hand on Yom's shoulder, giving him a slight shake of the head. Yom, in turn, stifles a sigh and lets up. “If you needed us to… We will go.”

  “Thank you,” Paxwell said. He stepped inside the circle. Rue did not even realize they had formed into one naturally; the tension to finally move along with the quest probably burned inside everyone, just like it did him.

  Pax continues. “We will not charge into the camp immediately. We will pick off their patrol group. By my count, there are about fifty-five normal Kobolds, ten Bone Warriors, and the Golden Kobolds. Their usual patrol is four, which is a significant number, and they will probably increase it just like in our earlier encounter. Which is good for us.”

  “How so?” Yom asked, gobsmacked.

  “It means we can decrease their number by quite a margin,” Rue said. He wanted to add ‘duh’ by the end. But he held his mouth.

  “I like it,” Benedict grinned. The man is playing with his knife, throwing it up and down like a circus ball.

  “Of course you do,” Emily muttered.

  “What’s that? You got any problem with the plan?” Benedict raised his eyebrow.

  “No,” She said. “I think it’s a good one.”

  “So we wait until night, then?” Rue asked Paxwell.

  “Yes, I know you’re eager because of the Lioness' health. But I like to prioritize safety first. Well, as much ‘safe’ as we can be while completing the quest.”

  “I get it, please act like our quest doesn’t exist,” Rue said. Earning him approval nods through the group.

  “We will split into three groups.” This time it’s Alquin who spoke. He and Pax have come up with the strategy.

  Three groups, huh. Rue looked around their member.

  Rue, Paxwell, Benedict, Emily, Gilbert, Clerence, Eve, Yom, Rino, Alquin.

  Ten people. 4 mages, 2 archers, 3 Warriors, 1 Rogue. Rue paused. Maybe it’s better to consider him a warrior since he will probably in the frontline. And Eve is a healer rather than a mage in general.

  “Two groups will hunt down the patrols. And another one stays here; we make this our basecamp now. The group staying will be Eve and Yom only,” Alquin explained.

  “Only us two?” Yom gulped; his voice came out like a meek mouse.

  “Your job is a look out for Eve. She’s our only healer, so I kept her safe. We will send the injured here if needed,” Pax said.

  “All right, got it,” Eve nodded. She looked at Yom, who smiled at her. They both clearly relieved that they do not need to be on the frontline.

  Still, though, wouldn’t it be better to leave Rino instead? Yom is a warrior, and with him staying, that means only one warrior for each group. Rue tried to think why Paxwell and Alquin decided on this. Maybe they count Rue and Benedict as warriors? Indeed, they could hold the frontline.. Wait, actually, the reason Rue is able to do that is because of his Time of Ice. He did not plan to use it again as long as his mana is not full.

  Eyeing both of the old men, he decided to risk the question.

  “Uhh,” Rue started, awkwardly raising his hand. All eyes went to him, and he gulped.

  “No need to raise your hand,” Emily snickered.

  He blushes, withdrawing his stupidity, trying to ignore the occasional small laugh that escapes mainly the youngsters' mouths. “Why don’t we leave Rino instead? I mean, Yom is a warrior, and we’re lacking them.”

  “Good question,” Emily rubbed her chin. Then look at the old duo for the answer.

  “Well, we almost decided to bring him.” Alquin's eyes went to Yom, who stood straight at the old man. “But the boy is just level 3.”

  What? Only Level 3?

  It might be possible. Yom had been in a group the whole time. Right Level, why didn’t he identify the people around him? He decided to start with Benedict.

  (Human. Lvl 25)

  “What the hell?”