(An Unknown Number of Months after Chapter 40 of Book 1)

As the daylight crept over the horizon, a growing town met the coming sunlight with joy. Today was just another wonderful day in which they could live beneath the eyes of their Patron God and that of the First Chosen, their undisputed and absolute ruler who was the first and greatest of their kind.

As the children ran through the streets, the menfolk began to change the guard and exchange shifts, all while the women engaged in the day-to-day running of the place and maintained the more intellectual side of keeping a civilization afloat. If this were a normal gathering of people like these, then maybe there would not be any women, but that was why they were immeasurably superior to their weaker, more feral cousins who tarnished the name of their kind and their Chosen.

As the guard shifted and two sets of people were exchanging greetings and gratitude at the guardhouses, a loud, shrill whistle came from one side of the settlement. The whistle sounded once short, then twice long, then twice short, and then a pause followed by a long whistle. At this, all eyes looked up from what they were doing, and smiles crossed their faces. It looked like they would have new members of their community soon enough.

…

As Grekel heard the whistle, he scowled. He knew all too well what that noise meant, and he hated it with an absolute passion.

He didn’t much care for the whole genre that he was unwillingly roped into, but his God didn’t much care for his opinion and had brutally crushed him every time he tried to advocate for a better, more moral way of doing things. Worse still, the more he held out against his new body and mind’s own desires and instinctual impulses, the more his God tinkered with his soul and mind to make him more compliant with his God’s whims.

He was, day by day, refused rape of captives by refused rape of captives, losing his humanity, and that pissed him off to no end. His followers, the other Goblins, or rather, the other Grekel, were born into this world without any such human morals, and it made him sick to see them treat humans as nothing more than breeding stock, be they male or female.

However, what sickened him the most was, of course, that he was slowly, gradually, piece by irreplaceable piece, beginning to like the idea of engaging in that sick, depraved, and disgusting behavior himself. His God, the damn bastard, had taken direct control over his body enough times to force him to do some nasty, terrible things to a handful of human women, and he always ended up begging them for forgiveness and wallowing in self-loathing and rage each time.

His God, the bastard, didn’t much like that behavior, and so he had been forced to avoid doing so despite his desire to do so in order to keep his God from using him like a puppet while he could still see, hear, smell, feel, and taste what was going on.

And so, deep in his shack in the center of town, he held his head in his hands and said a silent prayer to any merciful God of Humans that would dare listen to a filthy monster.

He asked for forgiveness for his sins, and for those of his kind, and he begged for a swift and painless end for those that had been captured and that his new people would suffer as they should for their transgressions.

The door to his shack was pulled open as he sat still in prayer, and a Grekel rushed in a bit before another, larger one, grabbed the first by the ears and then pulled him back.

“Boss! Boss! We got new meat! Wanna play with new meat?”

Grekel sighed and shook his head, saying nothing.

“Ooh! Ooh, Ooh! We get first dibs, yeah? We have fun! Save you pretty one for later, yeah? You come by have fun with meat, yeah?”

Grekel groaned and waved the younger one off, and away the younger one ran.

“Boss, you gotta make more strong ones. You Chosen. It your calling to make more strong ones.”

Grekel tiled his head and saw the second figure. The town shaman had come, and while he was magically gifted he was weak enough compared to him that Grekel could wade through whatever spells were slung his way and twist the shaman’s head off like it was the cap of a water bottle.

He was fairly sure that the only reason his Patron (and theirs) hadn’t ordered his ‘people’ to kill and replace him was because that very same God invested too damn much power into him, thus making any attempt from the other Goblins/ Grekel an exercise in futility. Plus, he had said that he would kill all of those goblins/ Grekel bastards and then himself if his God tried to rally the tribe against him, so that might have been one of the reasons why no coups had been attempted as of yet.

“I’m….” Grekel wanted to say he found the idea of raping people in and of itself to be morally and ethically wrong on countless levels, but he figured that if he tried to say that again his Patron would just throw another tantrum and he would be turned into a temporary puppet made to watch himself defile some people. That was not going to happen, so he needed another excuse.”I’m not going to make strong children with people weak enough to be beaten by such a pathetic raiding party. Once someone truly strong is captured, then I’ll make more children.”

The shaman’s face lit up as he swallowed the lie, hook, line, and sinker.

“Yes! Yes, I tell tribe! We find bigger, stronger meat to take, and you make strong little ones! We serve! Glory to Chosen, Glory to Groebeindau!”

“Yes, yes…” Grekel said dismissively while waving away the shaman. “Glory to me, and glory to Groebeindau. Now piss off and leave me alone.”

The shaman continued to nod emphatically as she closed the door, leaving Grekel to wallow in self-pity and self-loathing once more.

“I’m sorry…” he said softly to the people he could not bring himself to meet in person. “He won’t let me stop them… I beg of you… forgive me, please… End this nightmare before I lose myself and what little humanity I have left... Someone…. Please….Kill me… Kill us all….”