The Forest Feeds No Idle Goblins

In the pitch-black underground crypt, Shire walked into the depths alone, holding a torch.

He had refused Little Claw’s offer to accompany him, and he hadn’t gone outside the stone door to get Little John and Red Eyes. He knew this was probably a test from the veterans of the Seventh Forest Field Army.

’A test of his courage? Or his sincerity?’

Shire didn’t know, but as he entered alone holding the torch, he thought he saw a hint of approval in the eyes of the silent Skeleton Warriors. Of course, this was just a feeling; after all, their empty sockets held nothing but two floating green Ghost Fires.

The crypt was not very deep, noticeably smaller than the stone chambers of the Fortress. He soon reached its innermost part.

After descending a flight of stairs, he arrived in a small burial chamber. Inside, there was only a huge stone sarcophagus and a banner thrust into its lid.

The entire chamber was very clean. Other than some dust, there were no spiderwebs, moss, or lichen. This was completely different from the crypts and stone chambers Shire had seen before, where the walls were typically covered in plants and the corners thick with white spiderwebs.

Shire walked to the sarcophagus and examined it carefully by torchlight. It was obviously larger than the ones the Skeleton Warriors "slept" in, and it appeared to be made of a heavier material. The sarcophagus was rectangular, its edges sharp and distinct. There seemed to be reliefs on its sides, but due to the great passage of time, they were no longer clear. Shire tried his best to decipher them and could only make out that they were likely carvings extolling the deceased’s glorious achievements.

"General, it’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Shire." Figuring a polite approach couldn’t hurt, Shire decided to introduce himself first. He couldn’t be sure the coffin lid wouldn’t fly off at any moment, revealing a corpse in ancient garb that would hop out stiffly with its arms outstretched.

’I should have brought a candle,’ he muttered to himself. Then, he slowly reached out and tried to touch the sarcophagus.

Nothing happened. The lid didn’t fly off. There was no SCRAPING sound of claws against stone from within the sarcophagus, nor did any white mist swirl around him. Everything was exactly as it had been when he entered.

’Looks like it’s just as the Skeleton Warriors said. Only they were turned into Undead Creatures.’ Shire glanced back down the passageway, confirming that he was safe for the moment.

’In that case, I’ll check out that banner.’ Pushing off the lid, he scrambled on top of the sarcophagus in just a few movements.

"Sorry, no disrespect intended," Shire said apologetically. He was now standing on the lid of the sarcophagus, which was, by any measure, disrespectful to the deceased.

With no time to worry about such things, Shire moved closer to the banner. He noticed it seemed to be free of dust. Aside from looking a bit old, it was completely undamaged.

’It’s so strange. How can a banner survive for over 5,000 years?’ he marveled, looking it up and down.

Textiles, unlike metal, were notoriously difficult to preserve in an underground crypt. For this banner to have survived so long with its appearance barely changed was astonishing.

Shire clicked his tongue in amazement. He suspected the chamber’s cleanliness had something to do with the banner.

’Amazing,’ he thought, staring at the banner. He then tried to summon the panel.

[Item: Black Dragon Battle Banner of the Seventh Field Army]

[Quality: Epic]

[Use: Charge]

[Own State: Divine Immortal Blessing (Permanent)]

[Special Effect: Unites your comrades within the banner’s radius, shattering all falsehoods and illusions.]

[Note: Forward, forward, forward.]

"An Epic Level item... that’s incredibly rare," Shire murmured. He glanced down at the [Abbot’s Double Blade] at his waist, which was merely ’refined’ quality. Even Philip’s Light Fine Steel Breastplate had only been ’High Quality’ at best.

’And it’s even been enchanted with a Divine Immortal Blessing?’ he thought, staring intently at the words. ’That must be why the banner is still intact.’

Shire reached out, grabbed the banner, and unfurled it, trying to get a clear look at its entire surface.

It was a red banner, as scarlet as fire. In its center was a black Giant Dragon, wings spread and breathing flames, looking incredibly lifelike.

’This banner is huge.’ He stood on his tiptoes and, after several attempts, finally managed to pull it free. ’With this, the Skeleton Warriors should agree to come with me.’

’If these guys come back with me, they’ll be incredibly useful,’ Shire thought. ’Not only can Agatha learn a great deal of buried history from them, but their expertise in battle formations should also be a great help to my party. Not to mention, they can brew potions with Little Claw.’

"General, I don’t know your name, but I believe your resolve to protect the Holy Country still remains. I might be the world’s only remaining heir to the history of the Holy Country, even though I don’t really know what the heck the Holy Country even was." Shire climbed down from the sarcophagus and stood beside it, stating his plea to the deceased within. "But I promise you, I will find a way to unearth this glorious age from the dust of history and make it known to the world once more."

He set the torch on the ground and began to fold the [Black Dragon Battle Banner]. "So, I’ll be taking this banner with me. I don’t consider it grave robbing—I think it’s more like claiming an inheritance. After all, digging up my own ancestral tomb isn’t that big of a deal, right?"

"If you don’t agree, just knock on the side of the coffin, and I’ll immediately put it back for you." Shire finished folding the battle banner and waited for a few seconds. "Looks like you agree."

With that, he picked up the torch, draped the Black Dragon Battle Banner over his arm, and turned to walk out of the burial chamber. "I’m off, then. Thank you."

...

"Elton, will that, uh, short Beastman variant succeed in taking our banner?" one of the Skeleton Warriors asked.

All twelve skeletons were sitting on the sarcophagi, their gazes fixed on the pitch-black depths of the crypt.

"Probably not," Elton replied with a rattling laugh. "After all, our banner received the High Priest’s Immortal Blessing. Any ordinary person who touches it will be paralyzed."

"He’s just a goblin. Even though I can sense the aura of the Holy Country on him, he probably can’t retrieve the banner." Elton glanced toward the inner chamber, then reached out a bony hand to pat the sarcophagus beneath him. "Looks like these guys will never wake up. Sigh. Now that I think about it, the bastard under my ass still owes me a round of drinks."

"HAHAHA, me too! This guy never paid me the money he lost in cards," another Skeleton Warrior laughed, rapping his knuckles on the sarcophagus he was sitting on.

"What do you all think?" Elton asked after the laughter died down. "I want to go outside and see. From what he said, it’s been over five thousand years. The world has forgotten the history of the Holy Country. I want to go with him, find our glorious Holy Country, and shock the world with its greatness once more."

"Elton... what if—and I’m just saying what if—the Holy Country is really gone?" a Skeleton Warrior asked.

Elton fell silent. He looked at his own hands with his green Ghost Fire eyes, then said, "If the Holy Country is truly gone, then I will rebuild it. We are all people of the Holy Country. We belong there. I will rebuild it one house at a time, until my Magic Power runs out, until my bones fall apart and my soul returns to the Nether Sea. But as long as I can still move, I will keep on building."

Hearing this, the other Skeleton Warriors also fell silent. Soon, one of them spoke up with a laugh. "Elton, what do you know besides hacking at monsters with a blade? When it comes to building houses, I’m the real expert. Back in the City of Many Races, I built my own family’s house with my own two hands."

"You were just a gofer," the other Skeleton Warriors began to tease him, and Elton quickly joined in the ribbing.

As they talked, the atmosphere was no longer so heavy. Gradually, the Skeleton Warriors all grew inclined to leave the crypt and see what the world was like after 5,000 years.

"We can split into groups. Some will stay here on guard, while others will follow Shire and operate outside. We can rotate after a certain period," Elton planned with the others. "Even if that goblin can’t fulfill our request, we can still act according to our usual training protocols. That way, we won’t be violating our oath."

"Yes, that plan could work," the Skeleton Warriors chimed in, one after another.

Just as they were discussing what the outside world might be like, a light appeared in the depths of the crypt. A goblin holding a torch slowly emerged from the underground passage. He walked slowly, unhurriedly, and the light from his torch gradually illuminated the dark, underground chamber.

A large, folded object was draped over one of his arms. His gaze was calm as he looked ahead, the torchlight reflecting in his eyes as a dancing flicker of color.

As he drew closer step by step, the sound of his footsteps, TAP-TAP-TAP, grew louder. The glimmer of light grew from a pea-sized spark into a blazing torch. He finally came to a stop in the middle of the Skeleton Warriors, and the brilliant light enveloped their once-gray, flimsy-looking skeletons, casting a warm reflection on their bones. In the torchlight, their green Ghost Fire eyes turned into orange-red flames.

"I’m back," Shire said with a smile.

Elton stared at the folded cloth on the newcomer’s arm. Its colors and pattern were intimately familiar to him.

He was stunned. It took him a long moment to react.

"Welcome back, hope of the Holy Country," Elton declared.

"No, not just me," Shire said, calmly sweeping his gaze over the Skeleton Warriors. In the torchlight, they no longer seemed so terrifying. "We all are."

"Please, come with me." He raised the banner in his hand, smiling at these "hopes that had crawled from their graves."