The Goblin Nation - 93 Cossacks Comeback

“Why are you just sitting there?” Violin asked the sulking Cossack, “You lost one round, big deal. You said best two out of three. You can still win this.”

“How can I win against that thing. He’s supposed to be lighter than me, weaker than me, and yet he never gave up in terror when his body was paralyzed. He just stood there, taking punches like they nothing.” Cossack showed Violin his bloody fist, “Most of the blood is my own, not his! It felt like I was punching a tree. The only difference was the tree can fight back.” Cossack looked at his disfigured hands, “My poison didn’t work.”

“It didn’t work because he ate the antidote.”

“What?”

“You didn’t see it because you were busy showing off to the enemy tribe. He pulled out the same pill we use. But I doubt he had more. Which means, the second round is yours because you still have the poison hands. Just a little more and you can paralyze him again.”

“How did he get an antidote?”

“I don’t know, but I have an idea who might have given him one. For now, focus on the fight!” Violin grabbed Cossack by the shoulder, “You need to win two rounds. And you can do it.”

“No, I can’t.”

Violin was taken aback, “What do you mean you can’t?”

“Weren’t you listening!” Cossack slammed the ground in frustration, “He’s a monster. No, I bet they’re all monsters. My punches couldn’t do anything, and my poison didn’t even affect him as fast as it did our former Chief.” He crossed his arms and tucked his head under them, hiding behind his knees. “Besides, our tribe doesn’t even want me to win. They don’t even like me as their Chief. Might as well give him the club by this point.”

“Fine, give up.” Violin stood up, and fist clenched with anger. “But before, I just want you to remember that you’re not only fighting for the tribe. Now, if you could excuse me.” Violin walked away, hugging herself to keep her body composed before meeting with the enemy.

Cossack watched her leave. That little bald green woman was braver than he was, he couldn’t help but feel ashamed. He tried to justify his choice, telling himself that he can become a close aid to the new Chief. And that he only gave up so they could show mercy to his tribe, and so many other excuses kept coming to his head. But none of them could bring him comfort.

Eventually, his mind went blank, unable to scheme of ways to justify his cowardice. Only the leaves rustling above him filled his mind. He looked up the green maple leaves hanging above him. They reminded him of the time he would sit alone watching the other kids play. He was an outcast since he was small, always left alone by the other kids. That’s what happens when you become an orphan in this village, a village where death rarely comes through the small gates or over their massive walls.

After his mother passed away, the other goblins would avoid him, believing he was the bringer of death. To cope with his loneliness, Cossack would engross himself about stories in different worlds, and try to pass on these tales as his achievements to the other kids. This only earned him more scorn than anything else, but there was one child that enjoyed his stories. Violin was the only that would listen to him. And the two spend most of their childhood sitting under a tree, with Violin listening to all the ridiculous tales that came to Cossack’s mind.

But as time passed, and the distance between them grew. She became an important figure of the tribe while he was the kid that cried wolf. Violin couldn’t sit with him and listen to his stories as much as before, and Cossack felt more alone than before. So when he saw Artio unconscious on the creek, only one thought came to mind, a fresh new start. Eventually, his obsession for Artio’s company turned into a one-sided love. And that one-sided love led him to duel his Chief and taking that title for himself before transforming into a conqueror.

And when he became Chief, he was no longer below his friend anymore. “That’s right. I’m a Chief. The great Chief that killed a troll!” Cossack yelled. He jumped up on his feet and ran towards the ring.

Smoke stood in the ring, waiting for him. “So, you came back!” He remarked.

“Hell yeah!” Cossack stepped inside while looking around for Violin. “Where is Violin?”

“Me not know. Now ready?” The old referee asked.

“Ready!” both fighters yelled out. Smoke’s crowd cheered him on, while Cossack’s tribe sat there in silence, shocked to see their craven Chief come back after running with his tail behind his back.

“Go!” The referee threw the flag on the ground, and Cossack did not waste time and ran at Smoke.

He pulled his right arm, putting all his anger and desperation in his fist. The weight of his burden compressed into one attack, strong enough to move those that could not be move. Smoke knew this because he saw the light blue strings come out from his swollen purple knuckles. Cossack’s fist was imbued with mana.

Smoke ducked and weaved to deep to his left while raising his left fist parallel to his head. Cossack’s punch missed its target, only grazing Smoke’s right cheek. But Smoke’s fist didn’t miss its mark. Cossack ran straight towards Smoke’s red fist. The punch made contact with his very long nose, decimating it along the way. The cartilage and bone in his nose broke in half and pulverized by the force of Smoke’s fist, and the bones cracking sound was so loud it was heard around the world.

Cossack’s head flew back, and he fell on his back for the second time. Blood blew out from his squashed nose like a geyser. Loosing so much blood, Cossack was about to close his eyes, but then he heard a distant voice call out to him. “Get up, you idiot!” Violin yelled to him. “Get up!”

Cossack’s eyes opened wide. He saw Smoke’s fist coming down from the heavens and onto his face. Before his face gets hit, he rolled away from Smoke. When he got on his knees and looked at his opponent, he saw the spot where his body was broken apart into several cracked pieces. Smoke raised his fist and blew the dust away along with some bluish residue. “I missed.” He said.

“You guys really are monsters,” Cossack whispered to himself.

“Speak for yourself. You have those poisonous hands ready to tear me apart.”

“Cossack, don’t lose your composure!” Violin yelled on the sidelines. She was carrying on her person a large bronze staff with giant cogs broken in half strapped at its ends. It was the Krepkiy Club. The weapon only the Chief could wield. And he was that Cheif.

Cossack pushed himself and stood proud and tall. He straightened his nose back to its pointy appearance and blew out the remaining blood from his nostrils. A blue mist exuded from his hands, and purple goo oozed out from the swollen areas on his hands. The blue mist wrapped around his fist, and more of the blueish steam came out from his body. “Is he pushing out the poison from his body with mana?” Smoke wondered. Seeing the process unfold before him, Smoke tried to replicate it, pushing his mana along the chest and into his legs.

“Hey, their heads are glowing.” Rock pointed out.

Everyone watching wondered what the mysterious halo that appeared on Smoke and Cossack’s heads were. Except for Mari, who already knew what those halos entail. “Watch carefully, everyone.” She told them, “Things are about to get intense.”

While busy converging his depleting mana into his lower body, Cossack rushed towards him. Smoke, distracted by his legs, was punched across the face with Cossack’s right hook. Cossack followed it with a left hook before bending over and digging his jagged nails on Smoke’s legs. Blood gushed out while the purple ooze covered the wound.

Smoke streamed from the excruciating and numbing pain. With Cossack’s head exposed, Smoke retaliated with a palm strike to his left ear. The attack was enough to force Cossack to let go, but he did not back down.

Cossack kicked himself off the ground, launching himself into the air, headbutting Smoke’s chin. Smoke’s body nearly wavered as he fell back away from Cossack. He managed to find his footing before his body dropped to the floor. Cossack followed him, and he continued a flurry of attacks. Smoke had his guard up, waiting for an opening. Sun told them before that everyone can only continue attacking for five seconds in perfect tempo before they reset their pace to catch their breath. Smoke counted down in his mind until it reached zero.

And just as Sun told them, Cossack’s punches began to slow down, and in a split of a second, Smoke ducked down, dodging the last punch before delivering a devasting uppercut. Cossack’s body into the air, but he managed to land on his feet. “That weight,” Smoke said, “You used mana to make yourself heavier.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just here to win.”

“Well, I hope you’re ready, because this next attack will be your last.”

“Do your worst, I managed to get through hours of stabbing my hand into poisonous sand. I’m not afraid of anything!”

Their halos began to grow brighter as they gather all of the mana into their right fist. Strong winds began to circulate around them. The string that kept their black hair tied into a ponytail was blown away, letting their silky black hair wildly flail from the wind.

And then, like dynamite, the energy stored within their body exploded into a brilliant array of lights, blinding those looking at it. “Cossack!” Violin yelled.

“Smoke!” Sun called out to him.

Then the light dissipated, revealing two tall goblins with strong lean bodies running towards each other. The feathers on the back of their ear fluttered against the wind as they run with their right fist glowing bright blue. Cossack pulled his arms back before launching it at Smoke. But he missed his target.

Smoke ducked down once more, dodging his fist and countered Cossack’s jab with his right jab. It landed on Cossack’s long nose, breaking it in half for the second time. Then Smoke pulled back his right arm and rotated his body to the side to follow up with a left hook, landing it on Cossack’s side, damaging his kidney. The combined attack on his face and kidney was enough to bring Cossack to the ground. He landed face first on the dirt, unconscious. The Razin tribe was speechless and so was the referee. “Hey,” Smoke called to the old shivering goblin, “Why aren’t you counting?”

“Oh yes,” The old goblin took his flag and squatted down and began counting, “Ten, nine, eight, seven,” Violin dropped the club and fell on her knees, “Six, five, four,” A goblin from the Razin tribe stood up and yelled out to Cossack to stand up, “Three, Two,”

“Sorry Violin. But Cossack no good Chief.” The fat goblin watching with the Lev tribe said.

“One!” The referee threw his flag to the air, “Smoke wins!”

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