The carriage, the overturned vehicle where there were still loud cries, was the place I had slowly made my way to. There were no horses, which made sense as they would have run away if given the chance, and there were no living men or women lying on the ground.
How many people had there been? Too many to count, obviously, as the sight of their strewed about corpses was enough to make anyone sick, including me, but that wasn't enough to stop me in my tracks. In fact, I had become more determined to quickly grab the kid and get out of the area before I must deal with more problems.
The situation was a little difficult, though.
As I came to the rear end, I slowly peeked inside, noticing a bunch of large, heavy looking wooden crates that were reinforced by metal lining blocking my way. The crying was louder now, proving it was coming from inside, so I quickly climbed on top of a crate to observe what was on the other side, very little room between my lowered body and the ceiling, but I wasn't expecting the scene that was laid out before me.
Lying in a back corner, pinned against what was a wall with a large crate on their left leg, was a young boy of about twelve. He had hair that was dark as a clouded night sky and large, golden eyes that were red from tears. His skin was light, but not a deathly pale, and he wore a navy tunic with long, brown trousers and an ankle-high boot of fabric on the one foot I could see. There was blood slowly pooling around the part of his leg that wasn't crushed so, with wide eyes, I quickly dropped down from my perch to help him.
That proved to be the wrong move as he struggled as soon as he saw me, a monster, and only hurt himself more as his crying turned to screaming. He must have done something, trying to back away from me like an idiot, but who wouldn't when confronted by a goblin in a similar position?
Nevertheless, I ignored his screaming and struggling and dropped my sword to the ground to show I meant no harm, the clattering having frightened the boy as he closed his eyes with a tense body. I merely sighed in response and turned my back to him, attempting to get a grip on the crate to lift it.
It was heavier than I expected as I was unable to lift it by even a centimetre, every muscle in my body screaming as I tried my hardest to lift the damn thing.
What the hell was even in this crate!?
Observing it revealed nothing, other than the fact the lid was pressed up against the wall, so I couldn't help but frown as I began to feel anxious. It was for a good reason too as I began to suspect an amputation might be the only way to save the kid.
That was a last resort, though, as I would not want this kid to suffer that kind of pain for the rest of his life if he didn't have to.
What should I do, then? I can't lift the crate and I can't open it, so what else can I do to move the crate? I glanced down at my sword, swallowing the lump that had formed in my throat, before I slowly crouched down.
I wrapped one hand around its hilt and lift it into the air before I glanced at the kid, whose eyes were now wide with fear. "No!" He screamed, trying his hardest to pull his leg out from under the crate with tears freely flowing. "Save me, father!"
There was a pang in my heart as I felt my muscles tighten all at once.
This boy, he doesn't know his father is dead, does he? Even though he's trapped in here, he should've been able to hear the screaming of those that had died, so it made no sense for him to be acting this way.
He could just be desperate, though, and is denying the harsh reality that there is no one to save him, holding onto the sliver of hope that some human will come along and kill the goblin that is going to end his life.
I clicked my tongue and tossed my sword on top of a box before I scaled the same one, my teeth grit as I was determined to avoid harming this boy. I raised the sword as high as I could, angling it down towards the side of the crate, and thrust as hard as I could, my shoulders receiving a sharp jolt of pain as the blade failed to pierce the wood.
But that wasn't going to deter me. The pain my shoulders received was nothing compared to what this boy was currently feeling, and this was my drive to try harder, my drive to become stronger and faster.
I raised the sword once more and, with a quiet exhale of air, managed to sink the tip into the wood. From here, I wiggled the blade about, scraping and slicing at the wood, until the inside of the crate was visible.
All I needed to do now was break a large chunk of wood off the crate, so I can properly see inside of it and know what it is I need to move.
It didn't take too long for that happen, but there was a slight chip at the tip of the blade from doing this. I wasn't disappointed or sad as I expected this would happen, but that didn't mean I wasn't annoyed.
Regardless, the crate was full of a light, shining metal that was reminiscent of steel. In fact, it probably was steel, but it didn't matter what kind of metal it was as it was evidently heavy.
…This was going to be tough. If I wanted to save the boy's leg, I was going to need to spend a considerable amount of time tossing metal aside to maybe lift the crate up. Even then, his leg would be all mangled and destroyed because it had been crushed, meaning he wouldn't be able to walk on it anyway.
I eyed my sword with grit teeth before I shook my head.
There's no need for that. I've already told myself that. We're not in immediate danger, so there's no need to be hasty and do things I'll regret. I've come this far, anyway, so I might as well follow through.
I stuck an arm into the crate and lift the first piece up. I tossed it to the side without any thoughts.
This was the same for each consecutive piece and, around the twentieth piece, my arm was getting tired. I'd only dug about one sixth of the way down and I had to switch hands, meaning it was going to be difficult to empty it.
The crate was considerably deep, too, meaning I'd have to jump in at some stage. To do that, I'd need to create an even bigger hole in the crate. Should I do that now?
No, it wasn't a good idea to be hasty. I might snap the sword in half if I was careless and I will be needing it in the future, so I really couldn't make a stupid decision.
Ah, but the bandits had some useful stuff, didn't they? One of them had an axe and the adventurer had a sword, so I could use those.
Rather, I could cut into the crate with the axe and create an opening on the side. This would give me the opportunity to discard the metal en masse and free the boy.
So I did just that.
Ignoring the fact that I had completely discarded my deceased enemies until I had to rely on them, I had retrieved the axe and returned to the carriage, holding it out to my side as if I was a lumberjack.
And then the axe had collided with the wood, chips of the box flying in every direction possible as the axe lodged itself into the thing. A few pulls later and it had come out, but it was a rather strenuous task that required all my strength. Nevertheless, there was a slit in the box that revealed the contents, so I was satisfied with my work, but it wasn't done yet. I needed to do this several more times until the box is split open, but that's going to kill me in a metaphorical sense.
Even if I do manage to free the boy, I won't have any energy to do anything afterwards.
But this isn't about me. This is about him. His future is on the line here, after all, and if I were to put this into options I can understand easily, he's going to join the party or be a burden depending on what I do.
Well, his foot is probably crushed, anyway, but I'm being optimistic for the sake of not being a downer.
The axe struck the box once more, this time slightly lower than the previous strike.
I sighed and frowned and pulled the axe out once more and tried again.
I missed, though, angering me ever so slightly, but that was ok. All I needed to do was continue trying.
But how many attempts did it take to even create a decently sized hole? It had to have been about twenty-five. My muscles were screaming at me to stop, as they would be with most people, but with grit teeth, I pushed on through the pain without reconsidering my options.
I've come this far, anyway, so there's no point in stopping now. All I need to do is throw the metal away, lift the box up and save the boy, so it's safe to say the hard part is over.
Yeah, I'm nearly finished. That much is true, so I can't sit down and give up just yet.
With that said, it almost seemed as if throwing a large quantity of metal away would be easy. I'm just going to say it certainly wasn't and that it took me longer than I wanted it to, but hey, at least I did it, and now I can save the boy.
I climbed onto the crate, quickly scurrying over to where the boy is, and prepared to lift the crate before I noticed something.
The boy was…just laying there with open eyes. They weren't glazed over, meaning he hadn't quite died yet, but he must be close. Glancing down at the puddle of blood I've been standing in suggests that he's basically dead, so I've gotta hurry and give him some first aid before he passes away.
Using the tips of my fingers, I managed to lift the box up ever so slightly, and from there, I shoved my hands underneath it and heaved it up with a grunt.
Even though it was a risky manoeuvre, I forced my body to endure the weight of the box by slowly forcing myself under it. From there, I had to resist the urge to gag as the sight of the boy's leg was something I wanted to erase from my mind.
Twisted to the side at an awkward angle, a cracked bone sticking out of the flesh with all the muscles and meat visible and looking severely deflated, his foot was probably better off being amputated. No amount of medicine would save it when it's messed up that badly.
Nevertheless, I must fix him before he dies but, as he's already lost a large amount of blood, I'm not able to do anything too risky. That means I can't injure him further.
His bone is sticking out of him, though, and if I don't push it back in, he'll get a bad infection and die.
After moments of deliberation, I gently and slowly crouched down to move the boy's leg to the side with my hands, the box still threatening to crush me. Once I was sure he wasn't in danger of being hurt again, I lift the box up with my body, planted my hands against the wood, and gave it a powerful push before I jumped out from underneath it.
It crashed to the ground, rocking the carriage ever so slightly, the pressure on the back of my ankles indicating the box was too close for comfort. I shook my head to dispel the bad thoughts this had conjured.
Following this, I quickly left the carriage and approached a body that appeared to be relatively clean, my hands easily tearing the clothes off them. I quickly separated the bloodied bits of cloth from the clean bits by tearing the cloth further and returned to the carriage once I was satisfied.
With a deep breath, I gently pushed against the exposed bone with two fingers, watching as it moved, to test the waters.
From what I've observed, I could put the bone back into place, but it wouldn't be perfect and would be uncomfortable for the kid. It's the only thing I could currently do, though, so I had no choice.
With that said, I pushed the bone back into the flesh, half-heartedly attempting to get the positioning perfect in as short a time as possible, before I used the decent amount of cloth I had gathered as a bandage.
I wrapped it tightly around the torn flesh, making sure to apply as much pressure as possible without severing the blood flow, and tied the ends off in a knot that almost seemed impossible to undo.
Stepping away from my handiwork, the only thing I could do was nod as there was nothing to be said.
Delays were caused by matters that are more important than this. My apologies. And yes, I too think this is my weakest chapter.