The Goblin Nation - 113 Fighting Against The Poe

“Such magnificent form,” Horace took out his handkerchief and wiped the blood dripping from his nose. “A red goblin that could reach my head with his arms. Me, a giant even for with my orc brethren was punched in the face by a goblin standing upright. You are just breathtaking. You are my muse! Come and show me everything you have! Show me what makes you a man worth fighting with!”

“What are you, a pervert!” Rock yelled as he charged forward and threw a straight jab that hit Horace chin, shaking his head like a toy rattle. Horace’s legs shooked, and he nearly dropped on his knee. His brain danced back and forth in his skull, making him feel the numbness all over his body.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Horace wind backs his arm to deliver his attack. Rock raised his guard in front of his face, but Horace wasn’t aiming for his chin. “Here, I come!”

Horace delivered a backhand across Rock’s belly and his hand left a bright red mark. But to Horace’s surprise, Rock did not fly away like most of his opponents. Not only can Rock perform such impressive strikes, but he could also withstand all kinds of attacks. “Is that all you got? They felt more like an ant bite.”

“You really are my muse.” Horace straightened his back and puffed out his chest. “Ahem!” Horace cleared his throat.

‘All men are strong,

Like A-O-K,

But Rock is stronger,

And that’s O-K!’

“What?”

“It’s my first attempt in a poem dedicated to this battle,” Horace grinned, “What do you think? Please, I must know if it’s any good.”

“No, it’s not good!” Rock yelled and began counting his fingers. “First off, your poem rhymes by repeating ok. Second, why are you talking about men being strong? What does that have to do with the fight? And third, why are you giving a speech about your poem in the middle of a fight?”

Horace’s chest deflated, “I see. The diamond is still far too rough.

“Diamond?”

“But I must say that your first point is wrong,” Horace said while making odd gestures with his hand. “You see, I played with the rhyming scheme by calling men strong as an oak, but instead of saying oak, I spelled it.”

“But oak is spelled as O-A-K. Not A-O-K.” Rock pointed out.

“Oh,” Horace said, “then that means I need more inspiration! Come to me!” Horace lightly bonked his head, “Hit me with all your might!”

Rock clenched his fist and punched Horace on the nose, and faceplanted him to the ground. But just as he fell, Horace raised his hip and used the momentum to roll back on his feet. Despite his large size, Horace moved with great agility, slipping past Rock’s flurry and landed a side hook on his liver. Rock fell on his hand and knee while covering his side with his other hand.

“Such a burst of energy.” Horace raised his fist to the sky while blood and mucus poured down his nose. “A new set of words have come before me!”

‘I stand alone,

I am alone,

But strong alone!’

“What the hell are you saying?”

“That must be the greatest verse I have ever envisioned.” Horace looked down on Rock, “Don’t you agree!”

“No,” Rock swept Horace off his feet, but Horace sent a blast of mana from his palm, pushing back upright. Rock did not slow down, and he too launched his body off the ground and followed Horace.

With Horace’s hands busy trying to stabilize his balance after landing back on his feet, Rock punched Horace across the face without anything blocking his way. The weight of his punch felt heavier than before, and Horace smiled because of it. “That punch was full of vigor.” Horace spat out a large ball of blood. “That means you agree, that poem is the best one yet!”

Rock turned in dismay seeing Horace still standing from that attack. But he could only respond at Horace’s ridiculous claim of his current verse’s validity. “That was the worst one!”

“But I did not make any errors.”

“You literally repeated the same word to make it rhyme.”

“I see,” Horace snapped his fingers, “Doing such a thing only made me look lazy and silly. I remember my master once told me that muses hate primadonnas and love those with a strict work ethic. Maybe he was right, I must not wait for you. I must work for it!” Horace ran towards Rock.

“So, you’re finally getting serious!” Rock raised his guard and embraced himself. Horace was now serious, and he expects Horace will punch him in the face, but he did not. Horace fortified his fist with so much mana that it began to flicker faster and faster. Then he landed his devasting left hook on Rock’s side and it just as devastating as getting rammed by a mountain goat.

The punch sent Rock flying across the field and landing on a stack of crates. A giant fist imprinted itself on Rock’s side belly and his inadequate healing spell could do little at killing the pain.

Horace took a deep breath,

‘You may see me struggle,

But even if I fall,

Just like a flower,

I will stand tall,

And have a golden shower.’

“My greatest work has finally dawned on me!”

“Shut up!” Rock sat up and threw a piece of plank wood at Horace, hitting him on the head. “Who cares about your stupid poem?”

Horace turned to look at Rock, “I do, and that is why you can’t beat me. I fight for my love, and you are just the inspiration I need to express my feelings.” Horace picked up a wooden plank and broke it in half with his forehead, “That is why no matter how strong you punch me, I will not lose. A man that fights with no love, is a man that will never like a dove.” Horace’s eyes widened, “Woah, that was good. I need to write that down.”

“Looks like your giant goblin is struggling,” Jackson and Smoke exchanged blows with their warclubs. Jackson raised his club and summoned mana, surrounding the metal ball. Then he slammed it against Smoke’s warclub. The metal handle did not bend or break and Smoke did not give an inch to Jackson. “Just give up,”

“I’m not giving and neither is my brother,” Smoke glared at Jackson.

Horace produced a pen and paper out from his pants and began writing down his new ideas. “What do you mean I have no love?” Rock fell on his back, “I have so many people I love. So many people I care about and more important than your poems.”

Horace tucked his pen between his ear and wrapped the paper in a leather patch before putting it in his pocket. “That may be true,” Horace slowly waked towards Rock, “But where is the romance in that.”

Rock stopped using his healing spell on his body and he stared at the deep blue sky. The sun was setting and the colors were slowly getting darker. Eventually, his vision began to fade to black, and before he knew it, he returned to the barn. The clouds turned to spider webs, and the sound of the cold wind rustling the wind became wooden floor creaking. But one thing remained, that was the pain in his liver.

Rock tried to breathe, but the air did not enter his lungs. He rolled to face the ground and tried to stand back up, but his muscles had lost its energy. Rock has yet to realize that he was in a dream. And a memory that haunted him when he was still a tiny goblin still growing inside the dark, cold barn.

Besides him was Sun, crawling to his mother. Sun looked even weaker than he was, but he managed to stand as the victory. Sun once told Rock that the reason he was victorious was that he aimed at Rock’s weak spots. Instead of going for his head, which would have shattered his knuckle, Sun went for his liver, which was easier to reach and safer to punch.

Rock took that lesson to heart and landed his punches on Horace’s chin. But Horace did not fall to his feet like his brothers. Rock wasn’t sure what he was missing, but then he remembered one more event in his life. The day he beat the troll.

He reached the giant’s head despite being an ant in comparison. And he won against that giant. He fought that troll for hurting Dawn, he fought that troll to save his tribe, and he fought that troll because he was the only one that could reach the troll. And if Horace saw that fight, he would have no doubt called it romantic. Rock opened his eyes back at the sky, still blue, but the night was slowly creeping its way.

“So you want me to be romantic!” Suddenly, mana exploded out from withing Rock’s chest, “Then I’ll tell you why I’m fighting!” The mana turned into flame swirling around Rock.

Horace stopped walking and stared in awe at the pyre growing in size. The light from the blue fire dazzled his eyes, making him cry from the beauty of the flame. “What beauty.” He whispered.

“I fight for my brothers, for my mother, for my love,” Rock stood as tall as Horace. He walked out from the flame a new goblin, “And this is my romance!” Rock skin was no longer red, but it was now deep green. He had a red crown around his head made up of various sizes of feathers pointing towards the sky. His muscles were far larger before, and his green eyes were burning with passion. “Hit my abs one more time! I will show you that I am stronger!”

Horace lunged at Rock, “Give me everything you got, my muse!” Mana began to converge around Horace’s fist then punched Rock abs.

Mana exploded on Rock’s body but he did not budge. He did not react, not even moving a centimeter. The veins in his arms popped out as he flexed his muscles. “Now it’s my turn.”

“Yes! Give it to me!” Horace opened his arms to receive Rock’s punch. And Rock obliged. His mana began to rise out from feet while exuding great pressure around him. Rock prepares for a wind up before plunging his iron fist on his Horace’s face, planting his head to the earth. The ground shook and cracked under the weight of the punch, breaking the earth apart.

When the dust settled, Rock stood proud and tall. And Horace, the aspiring poet, was stuck on the earth, smiling without his teeth after witnessing the glory of his muse.

Please go to to read the latest chapters for free