The female Hobgoblin stirred.

A low groan left her throat as pain rippled across her head, dragging her back to consciousness.

Her eyelids felt heavy and, when she finally forced them open, the blur of the forest above came into focus.

"..."

Her eyes widened when she felt them around her wrists and ankles.

The ropes kept her wrists together and behind her back, biting into her skin. Her ankles were bound too, tight enough to leave lines etched into her flesh. She pulled instinctively, but the restraints were too tight.

"No. No, no, no…" she whispered, panic setting in.

The Hobgoblins turned at the sound of her voice.

"She's awake," one muttered.

"Should we knock her out again?" another asked, cracking his knuckles with a cruel smirk.

Syl's chest rose and fell sharply. "What is this? What the hell are you doing?"

The group's new leader turned his head lazily, sneering. "It's nothing personal, Syl."

Her teeth clenched. "Nothing personal? What you're doing here makes no sense! Do you think I betrayed you or something? What the fuck?"

"Well…"

"That fight back there, there was nothing more we could do! That thing… It took the artifact. We couldn't retrieve it. But that doesn't matter. Assessing that it was there, that the Goblins were right, that was the mission. That's a success! We just need the Elites to-"

"Success?" one Hobgoblin barked out a laugh. "You're delusional."

Another spat onto the dirt at his feet. "Coming back empty-handed is the worst-case scenario. If we brought back some random rock instead, at least we could've said the Goblins were lying. But now?" His lip curled. "We failed. Utterly."

Syl's eyes narrowed. "Then what's the point of this?" She lifted her bound hands slightly, the rope creaking. "What's the point of capturing me?"

The Hobgoblin leader's sneer widened into a grin. "Simple. We make you out to be a traitor. You, Ron, and the Goblin Chief. We'll say you were all working together, trying to steal what the Chief sent us to get. We'll walk back with you tied up like this. That should be enough to excuse us, right? How are we supposed to succeed when we have traitors in our midst?"

Syl froze, her blood turning cold.

"Don't worry too much," another Hobgoblin added, his tone mockingly casual. "If we show up empty-handed, we're dead. The Chief'll tear us apart, you know how his moods get." His grin widened. "But you'll be fine."

They grinned maliciously.

"We all know you will be fine."

They all chuckled darkly, then turned and began walking deeper into the trees. Their voices faded, leaving Syl in the dirt.

Only one Goblin stayed behind, tasked with watching over the prisoner. His beady eyes glowed yellow as he licked his cracked lips.

Syl's breath quickened. Her mind started spiraling.

'It's happening.... It's finally fucking happening.'

Her hands trembled against the rope. For years, she had fought, bled, and killed to keep this from happening. To avoid the fate every female Hobgoblin bore.

'Being a traitor or failing… It doesn't really matter.' Syl thought, clenching her teeth. 'The result will be the same for me.'

She will be treated the same way that female Hobgoblin warriors are treated after having lost their usefulness.

Scarce as they may be, female warriors are treated differently than male warriors.

After each fight, battle, and mission, Syl's body was carefully checked.

When a male Hobgoblin grows old, loses an arm, or an eye, he remains a warrior. He keeps fighting till the end.

But for a female warrior? It was completely different.

She might be useful in battle, sure. But the moment that a real wound is placed upon her, the moment that she loses an eye or an arm or grows past her physical prime… The tribe stops seeing her as a warrior.

The female warrior isn't most useful to the tribe fighting, but breeding.

The moment her usefulness waned, when her body slowed, when she faltered in strength or vision, the female Hobgoblin warrior would receive the honour of becoming one of the Hobgoblin Chief's women.

She instantly loses the title of warrior and becomes an incubator. A tool to produce strong children. An instrument to strengthen the tribe.

Syl's throat tightened.

She had been living with that fate hanging over her head forever.

Becoming a warrior saved her… Temporarily. Sooner or later, however, she would have to face that fate.

'...'

Now here she was. Bound. Helpless. Soon-to-be carried to that fate.

The Hobgoblins would bring her back. Whether they lived or died, whether they were forgiven or not, whether the Chief believed them or not… All that was needed was an excuse to demote her, to bring her into the role in which the tribe thought her most useful.

Her jaw clenched. The memory of the Fox girl rose before her eyes.

That timid prisoner had gone through an awakening right before Syl's eyes.

That prisoner had escaped her fate.

'Yes, if I had fought alongside them… if I had run away… If I had…'

Her stomach twisted.

The Goblin circled a tree, rummaging noisily, before returning with a cracked jug filled with water. He tipped it back, gulping loudly, the water spilling down his chin.

Syl stared at the Goblin for a moment.

She gulped, and a darkness seeped into her eyes.

"Give me some," she said.

The Goblin snickered, shaking his head.

Her lips pressed into a line. "I'd do anything for some water." Syl added.

The Goblin turned in her direction and, slowly, Syl's knees shifted apart. The Goblin froze, his brow furrowing in suspicion.

Syl forced a dark smile. "I'm more female than you think."

The Goblin's eyes widened, remembering that the Hobgoblins had previously offered her up.

Still, it had trouble seeing this Hobgoblin as a female.

The Goblin stepped closer, its gaze flicking down her bound form.

Syl clenched her teeth, disgust filling her guts as the Goblin's hand moved toward her crotch.

Its breathing grew ragged. Its hand reached Syl's crotch.

The Goblin was immediately throbbing. The proof that the Hobgoblin was female was undeniable.

Its restraint immediately snapped. The Goblin groaned gutturally, its mind gone, reduced to nothing but lustful instinct.

It tried spreading Syl's legs apart but failed to do so. Its crazed eyes moved towards what was holding her legs together.

The Goblin clawed at the rope around her ankles, desperate to spread her legs.

The rope gave in and, to the Goblin's delight… Syl's legs fell open.

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