Chapter 106 - 89: Find Him
"I heard the selections for the Storm Brotherhood are almost over. Fatty, are you really not going?"
In the cavern, two Adventurers chatted idly, swords in hand.
"What would I do there? Get beaten up on stage? Not to mention I don’t even meet the registration requirements, and my skills are no match for those guys." Fatty flicked the blood from his scimitar and grinned. "Forget about me, you didn’t sign up either, did you?"
The other Adventurer, a tall, thin man, chuckled. "I don’t meet the standards either."
He had a few knife scars on his face, and his neck seemed to have been injured, causing his head to be permanently tilted to the left.
"Still, I’m pretty jealous of those guys. I heard they aren’t recruiting many people this time, and that they’re heading straight for the Royal Capital afterward." The tall, thin Adventurer spat to the side. "The smell in here is awful."
"Could it be worse than a drunk Dwarf? Enough chitchat. Let’s finish these guys off and go get paid." Fatty swung his scimitar back and forth, slowly inching forward.
Three goblins stood before them, brandishing sharpened branches and screeching threats. But their threats were like those of caged beasts; two other goblins already lay in pools of blood inside the cavern.
The Storm Brotherhood’s selections had drawn a lot of attention. As a result, some of the Adventurers who still made their living in the forest couldn’t form a proper, balanced team with both melee and ranged fighters, which was why it was just the two of them in the forest today.
"Fatty, did you hear something?" The tall, thin Adventurer stopped his advance, tilting his head to look around.
"All I hear is the annoying racket from these three green runts. Kill them, and it’ll be quiet." Fatty ignored his companion behind him, instead taking a stance with his blade, preparing to block the goblins’ "Long Spears" and charge in for the kill.
Hhhh... He was surprised to hear a strange gasping sound from behind him, seemingly from his companion.
He took a wary step to the side, then turned to look at his companion.
The tall, thin Adventurer was holding his Short Sword, his eyes gazing blankly ahead. A continuous gasping sound escaped his lips, as if he had suddenly lost his mind.
"Hey, what the hell are you doing?" Fatty shouted.
His companion didn’t answer. Instead, he slowly turned to face him. Then, with a sickening CRACK, his crooked head snapped upright.
Fatty immediately raised his scimitar in alarm. For as long as he had known the man, his head had been crooked. He often talked about taking his bounty to the Priests of the four great Churches to see if it could be fixed after killing just a few more goblins.
But now, it had been "cured" in an instant. His gut told him something was terribly wrong with his companion.
The tall, thin Adventurer slowly bent his knees, hunching his back. He pulled back the corners of his mouth, a terrifying smile spreading across his rigid face.
Then, he brandished his Short Blade and charged straight at Fatty, mumbling incomprehensible words.
THWACK! Fatty sidestepped the Short Blade and, with one slash, severed his companion’s sword arm. But the man seemed to feel nothing, spinning around and tackling Fatty to the ground.
"What’s wrong with you? AHH—" Before Fatty could finish, the man sank his teeth into his neck.
He broke out in a cold sweat from the pain, trying desperately to push his companion off, even landing several more cuts, but it was useless.
Gradually, Fatty’s slashes grew slower, until finally his arm fell limply to the ground. His scimitar bounced away with a CLANG.
The tall, thin Adventurer slowly climbed to his feet. His mouth and entire body were covered in blood, making him look as if he had just crawled out of a blood pool.
He let out a few dry chuckles, then pitched forward and fell motionless.
Several wisps of white smoke rose from his back, slowly converging into a humanoid shape. The three surviving goblins watched in terror. Though they had never seen such a thing, their instincts screamed that the smoky form before them was dangerous.
The smoke finished coalescing, revealing a short Goblin Ghost, its lower body made of white smoke, staring coldly at them.
"I saved you. I am your new leader." The Goblin Ghost’s sharp voice rang out, making one’s skin crawl.
The three goblins huddled together, their eyes wide as they watched the Ghost drift closer.
"I am the leader. I, Scarface, am the leader." The Ghost stared intently at the goblins, as if waiting for something.
Finally, one of the goblins trembling stepped forward, knelt, and then...
He fumbled around on the ground for a long time but couldn’t find any ankles.
Scarface froze. He didn’t know what to do next. He had been summoned without a lower body, which meant the ankle-touching ceremony was impossible.
The kneeling goblin and Scarface stared at each other blankly. The scene descended into a bizarre silence.
A few seconds later—whether because he genuinely thought of a solution or was just scared out of his wits from the staring contest—a drop of sweat trickled down the goblin’s forehead. He reached out, swiped his hand through the smoke of Scarface’s lower half as if he had touched an ankle, then stood up and moved to the side.
The other two goblins exchanged a look, then lined up to kneel, scoop up some white smoke, and complete the ritual.
"Have you seen a goblin that throws Explosive Fruit?" Scarface floated before his new subordinates.
"No, Leader," the three goblins said.
"Have you seen a very short goblin that shoots a Crossbow Arrow?" Scarface asked again.
"No, Leader."
Scarface drifted around his subordinates, thinking about what to do next.
’Find the goblin who throws Explosive Fruit? Get revenge? Become the leader?’ He muttered to himself. Compared to helping his master find the goblin, he wanted revenge more, wanted to be the leader more. But the Soul Burning was too painful—a deep, agonizing pain that felt like his very soul was being torn apart. He had to figure out a way to deal with it.
Just as his three underlings were about to get dizzy from him circling them, Scarface finally had an idea.
"You’re with me. We’re going to find the explosive fruit," Scarface told his subordinates.
’If I find the fruit, I can find the goblin who throws it. I don’t know where it grows, but it has to be somewhere in this forest. As long as I keep searching and growing my numbers, I’ll eventually run into a goblin who’s seen it. And in the process of absorbing other goblin groups, I’m bound to run into Green Egg.’
This way, he could be the leader, get his revenge, and help his master find the fruit-throwing goblin.
’When the time comes, I’ll possess Green Egg myself, torture him, and make him taste true suffering.’
"I really am the most suitable to be a leader." Scarface cackled, his sharp voice like metal scraping on glass.
"Grab the weapons on the ground. We’re going to find the next group of goblins." With that, he floated out of the cavern.
...
「Yangjiao Town, Moonlight Inn.」
"Guild Leader, a Reprimand Order." Ricardo placed an envelope in front of Matel.
"So the stingy young master is getting impatient?" Matel tore open the envelope and read it quickly.
"What does it say?" Qige, the Mage, asked without looking up from the book he was intently reading in his high-backed chair.
"What else? If we don’t find the little goblin, we’ll be expelled and forever banned from his family’s territory." Matel ripped the Reprimand Order to shreds and tossed it into the wastebasket. "Has he lived in that castle so long his brain has frozen over? His family isn’t the only one with territory bordering the Nightmare Forest."
"Pride is the face of the nobility; greed is the filth beneath it," Qige said profoundly. He then looked up. "Isn’t it time we made our move?"
"Right. I want to move out tomorrow. The selections end today. We’ll rest for a night, then head into the forest immediately." Matel nodded. "It’ll be a good chance to see what these new guys are made of."
"Then I’ll go take stock of our supplies and see if we need anything else." Qige closed his book, stood up, straightened his Magic Robe, and walked out of the room.
"Ricardo, go to the Red Light District and get Yak back here," Matel said, unfurling a yellowed map.
"Alright, Guild Leader." Ricardo walked to the window. A white mist clouded his eyes, which returned to normal after a long moment. He then turned to Matel and said, "I’ve told him. He’ll be back soon."
A good while later, the door was thrown open with a BANG, and a burly man reeking of alcohol burst in.
"What’s the emergency? I was just telling some lovely ladies about the time I raced five goblins by myself." He plopped down casually in a chair, making the high-backed seat groan. CREAK... CREAK...
"We move out tomorrow," Matel said curtly.
"So soon?" Yak grumbled. "A couple of the ladies told me they loved hearing my stories."
"You’re about to run out of chances. If we don’t enter the forest soon, the Public Security Bureau will expel us from the territory," Matel said, smiling at him.
"That bastard sent a threatening letter?" Yak frowned. "I’d love to split his head with an axe."
"Enough. Go get your gear ready. We set out for the forest tomorrow morning." Matel gestured outside. "After this, you’ll have even more stories to tell the beauties in the Royal Capital."
"Alright." Yak nodded, then turned to complain to Ricardo. "Ricardo, don’t have that squirrel jump in my face and slap me every time. You scared the ladies!"
Ricardo glanced at him and shrugged with a smile.
"I’ll make a stew out of it one of these days," Yak muttered as he got up and returned to his room.
"Soon now. We’ll see this Goblin Fortress tomorrow." Matel stared at the map on the table. "Qige said their leader is interesting, possessing a certain degree of intelligence."
"How rare. If you were a goblin, I’d definitely capture you and send you to Plantagenet City. An intelligent goblin is far rarer than a little goblin."
He drained the ale from his cup. "Everything hinges on this. We can’t afford to fail."
By the window, Ricardo focused on feeding his squirrel, showing no intention of engaging with Matel.