God Agent: All Hail The Great Kobold

Three Years Ago.

Tud’or lay on a crude bed of hay that had been stained dark red by his blood. His normally sturdy body looked disturbingly weak, his chest rising and falling with every labored breath as sweat rolled down the sides of his face. Several of his scales had been burned black, and beneath them the skin was blistered and charred from the inside out.

The smell of burnt flesh still lingered around him, mixing with the dry scent of hay and the faint metallic smell of blood.

Tong’a sat beside the makeshift bed, his staff resting against his shoulder as he stared at the ground with a deep frown. He had already spent hours examining Tud’or’s injuries, and the more he understood about what had happened, the more irritated he became.

"I warned you not to return to the Grave of Roses, but you won’t listen. We have enough supplies of magic crystals to run comfortably for at least five years, so why do you still risk your life heading out there?" Tong’a demanded, his voice carrying the frustration of someone who had delivered the same warning too many times.

Tud’or slowly opened his eyes. Even in his weakened condition, there was still a stubbornness in them that Tong’a knew far too well.

He frowned naturally before slowly raising one arm. The scales covering it were blackened and cracked, with several sections burned so badly that the flesh beneath them was visible. Yet instead of looking worried about the injury, Tud’or stared at his own arm with something resembling fascination.

"Power," he finally answered.

Tong’a’s brow furrowed.

Tud’or slowly lowered his arm and turned his head toward him. Despite the agony coursing through his body, a proud smile appeared on his face.

"I have finally discovered a power that would allow us to fight off humans."

Tong’a stared at him for several seconds before his expression twisted with disbelief.

"Well, that power nearly got you killed!" he rebuked. "Your organs and body are burnt because of it. If you had just used it a little longer, you would have died for certain."

Tud’or simply shook his head. There was no fear in his expression.

If anything, he looked excited.

"My body can’t handle it for now, but with about five years of refining my body with mana, I should be able to use the ability without much problems," he responded enthusiastically. His fingers slowly curled into a fist as he spoke, his excitement growing despite the pain. "I just need time. If I can strengthen my body enough, I won’t have to fear the backlash anymore."

Tong’a was stunned into silence.

He had known Tud’or since he was a Cub. He had seen the warrior angry, frustrated, exhausted and even desperate, but he had rarely seen him like this. There was something almost youthful about the pride in his expression, as though he had finally discovered the answer to a question that had tormented him for most of his life.

Tud’or turned toward him fully, his smile widening. "Don’t worry. I won’t be going to the Grave of Roses anymore. At least not until I master this spell."

Tong’a’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You had better not."

Tud’or ignored the warning and instead raised his injured arm as much as his battered body allowed before throwing a thumbs up toward him.

"Some day this technique will protect our children."

Tong’a stared at the raised thumb.

For some reason, those words stayed with him.

Three years later, that promise had finally come due.

The battlefield had become the perfect cover for their escape. Flames still raged through the vegetation where Tud’or’s attack had driven Grash, thick smoke rolling across the clearing and obscuring the movements of everyone caught within it. The goblins who had been preparing to pursue Ka’z were temporarily distracted by the sheer violence of the attack, their attention drawn toward the burning forest and the enormous crater left behind by Tud’or’s strike.

Tong’a stood with both hands wrapped around his staff, his breathing heavy as he watched the smoke. His old body was exhausted, his clothing stained with blood and dirt, and several wounds had already begun to slow his movements. Yet his eyes remained sharp.

Lan’ka appeared beside him several seconds later.

The younger kobold glanced toward Tud’or’s direction first, worry written clearly across his face. His eyes then moved toward Tong’a, and he gave him a quick nod.

Neither dared speak.

The other goblins were still present, and the last thing they needed was to draw attention to their retreat. Tong’a understood immediately. He shifted his grip on his staff and quietly followed Lan’ka, keeping his movements as controlled as possible despite his exhaustion.

Tud’or noticed them from the corner of his eye. For the briefest moment, relief passed through his expression.

Good. They were leaving.

That was all he needed.

Tud’or immediately turned his attention toward the three goblins still nearby. Brox, Lucy and Rudor had also noticed the movement but before they could investigate, Tud’or faced them and all three tensed.

Brox tightened his grip around his massive metal club while Lucy slowly raised her bow. Rudor’s hands moved toward the runes carved into his body, his crimson eyes narrowing beneath his hood.

Tud’or’s gaze swept across them. He could have attacked. Under different circumstances, he might have tried to eliminate them but that would put a lot of strain on his body and he needed to reserve his strength for Grash.

So Tud’or remained where he was to keep their attention.

His body was still radiating heat, the scales covering his skin carrying a deep crimson hue while thin amber lines of mana pulsed beneath them. Steam continued escaping from his nostrils as he kept his breathing steady, maintaining his Elemental Body despite the enormous strain it placed on him.

Then a voice emerged from the burning vegetation.

"That was a good attack."

Tud’or’s eyes narrowed.

His attention immediately shifted toward the burning path carved through the forest. Slowly, Tud’or turned his head. He noticed something moved within the smoke.

Then Grash emerged and Tud’or’s pupils contracted.

The goblin chieftain stepped through the burning vegetation without a trace of hesitation. His fur coat was completely gone, burned away by the force of the attack, and the armor covering his torso had been shattered and scattered across the ground. His bare chest was covered in burns, bruises and fresh wounds, but somehow he was still standing straight.

More importantly, he was smiling.

It was merely a cold, narrow smile that carried the satisfaction of someone who had finally found an opponent worthy of his attention.

Even the battle axe in his hand had changed. The weapon’s surface was scorched black in several places, and an unmistakable fist shaped indentation remained across part of its metal body.

Grash slowly looked down at the mark before raising his gaze again.

"When I was still a nameless nobody, I was eager to find a way to breach the gap between powerless goblins like myself and magical beasts, but it was difficult."

His voice carried no shame when he spoke of his past. If anything, there was pride hidden beneath every word.

"But after years of trying, I realized something. Goblin’s weren’t given mana for no reason."

Bam!

Grash drove his battle axe into the ground and the impact cracked the earth around his feet.

Tud’or’s eyes narrowed as azure light suddenly appeared beneath Grash’s skin. It began as faint lines around his arms before rapidly spreading through his body. Veins bulged along his forearms and neck as blue mana surged through them, moving beneath his skin like liquid lightning.

The muscles across Grash’s body tightened and then expanded.

His shoulders became broader, his arms thickening as the mana flooded through his flesh. The ground beneath his feet cracked further, unable to withstand the pressure created by his rapidly increasing physical strength.

Grash threw both arms apart and a wide grin appeared across his face.

"Just like you, I turned that power inward with the intent of improving my body." His blue veins glowed brighter, and the muscles across his torso became even more pronounced. "I didn’t use mana simply to throw spells at my enemies. I used it to strengthen everything I already had."

His eyes locked onto Tud’or.

"After years of refinement, I birthed a technique of my own."

Grash slowly clenched his fists. The sound of his knuckles cracking carried across the battlefield.

"I call it Mana Body."

Tud’or’s expression remained still for several seconds. He examined the blue veins running across Grash’s body.

The increased muscle mass and the pressure radiating from him was threatening.

Then a mocking smile slowly appeared across Tud’or’s face.

So that was it. Grash had reached the same conclusion he had. They had simply walked different roads to reach it.

Tud’or glanced briefly at the crimson scales covering his own arms. Amber mana continued flowing beneath them, his body burning from within as heat escaped through his nostrils and between his scales.

Three years ago, his body had nearly killed him when he first attempted this.

He had promised himself that he would master it. He had not expected Grash to have discovered something so similar.

But that only made this more interesting.

Tud’or lowered his stance, his right fist tightened and the amber light beneath his scales brightened. Heat began gathering around his body once again.

"Alright then," Tud’or said, his mocking smile widening as he stared directly into Grash’s eyes. "Let’s see which is greater. Your Mana Body or my Elemental Body!"