It often happens that wishes are fulfilled in the most twisted ways. And while the self-righteous may claim that these twists of fate are punishments for the immoral and the corrupt, they are better seen as mere probabilistic necessities. Vance had wanted the document that bore his name to disappear, and it did vanish from the guild’s archives in the most unsatisfying way. It was stolen by an unnamed perpetrator; it fell into unknown hands to fulfill undisclosed purposes. But this unfortunate complication was not the product of divine intervention: it was much more like an unlucky roll of dice or like getting stuck with the old maid. The only difference was the gravity of the consequences.

“And you had nothing to do with this?” Vance said, still in denial. “You don’t have any of the papers?”

“I came here empty-handed,” Raine said.

“But there’s no investigation?”

“I told you there isn’t one.”

Vance sighed with frustration and paused pensively. He couldn’t understand how the documents of an entire party could disappear overnight. And there was also the issue of the perpetrator’s motives.

“Did anyone see you when you … you know?” Raine said, more hesitant than usual. “Were you spotted in the act? Are there any surviving witnesses?”

“No. I was careful.”

“I’ve been in this business for long, and I know mistakes happen.”

“I made no mistakes, Raine.”

“Then maybe it was something else,” Raine rejoined, hardly disguising his insinuating tone. “You used to think human life was sacred. Don’t look at me like that. You remember the days you spent chasing me around Engelsburg, and I couldn’t forget them, even if I wanted to. They make me think you spared someone’s life.”

“Don’t dredge up the past,” Vance said. “I killed them all.”

The archives keeper seemed incredulous, but he didn’t say another word. Instead, he paced back and forth, as he usually did to clear his mind and organize his thoughts. A night breeze blew through the narrow alley, and a cat caterwauled in a nearby street. Then he said, “I believe you.”

“And what’s behind this sudden change of heart?” Vance scoffed.

“I realized it was more detrimental to distrust you.”

“I’m glad your brain’s working again. Thank you very much.”

“Let’s focus on the facts.” Raine fingered his glasses and continued, “What we know so far is that whoever stole these papers had access to the archives. It might be safe to assume that they also had some authority. And for one strange reason or the other, they didn’t open a public investigation into what happened to your party.”

“Maybe they know that the papers aren’t enough to convict me.”

“That’s one possibility … They might be secretly digging for more evidence.”

“But they won’t find any, right?” Vance said.

“There’s nothing at the guild to incriminate you or me.”

“That’s good,” Vance said. “But now I can’t target any party until we find who’s behind this and deal with them. They’ve basically shut me out of the guild, and they have the means to damage my reputation if they want.” Vance punched the wall behind him in anger. “I came to Cromsville to join more parties, not to waylay adventurers like some bandit.”

“Yes … I understand, Vance. There’s always more money in parties.”

Fuck money. I’ll lose my class bonuses.

“I’ll look into this mess,” Raine continued, unaware of Vance’s real loss. “Tell me everything you know about the party you joined. And don’t spare me any of the boring details. I want to feel as if I was there with you.”

After a long sigh that calmed him down, Vance described the party members, focusing the most on Robinia and Severus. Then he explained how he had met Benedict, how he had registered at the guild, and how he had murdered the four adventurers in cold blood. Raine nodded once in a while, and he neither cringed nor grimaced, no matter how gory or distorted the narrative became. He was absorbing all the details like a sponge, and his pragmatic concerns left no room for emotions.

“And that’s it,” Vance concluded. “What do you want me to do now?”

“Return to your normal life, as if none of this happened,” Raine said. “Do whatever you need to get by, but stay away from the guild. I don’t know you, and you don’t know me. Don’t try to contact me; I’ll find you when I need you.”

“You’re not planning to stab me in the back, are you?”

“I wouldn’t have come to see you tonight if that had been my intention. Our deal holds: I keep you safe, and you keep me funded.”

“I’m glad that hasn’t changed,” Vance said, extending an arm.

“You’re still my best chance at an early retirement,” Raine said, before he shook hands with Vance. “Stay cautious, and avoid the spotlight.”

***

It was almost two in the morning when Vance arrived home. The meeting with Raine had left him feeling anxious and drained—the same feeling you would have right after a long exam. He planned to head straight to bed without even eating dinner, and he thought that no force on the planet could change his mind. But when he reached his front door, he found the child goblin waiting for him. He had assumed that it left to rejoin its tribe, but it was now clear that the goblin had other intentions. When it saw him, it approached joyously, bent to the ground, and placed a pile of ribs at his feet.

This time, the bones didn’t come from an unlucky human victim. Judging by their shape and size, they belonged to several rodent monsters. Vance tried to look grateful for the unsightly gift, but he wasn’t comfortable about accepting it. The remains of rodents were a common source of disease, so he left them where they were. He gave the goblin a pat on the head and headed for his room. It followed him with enthusiastic steps. He sat on his bed, and it sat on the floor. For an uninterrupted ten minutes, the two exchanged furtive looks.

Why is a goblin in my bedroom again? Vance finally posed the hard question. He knew that he wouldn’t understand the goblin even if it tried to explain itself, so he fumbled in his bag and found the book titled Goblin Social Behavior. And he skimmed through its contents in the hope of finding answers.

Let’s see now.

The first chapter was an intellectual defense, where the cautious, atelophobic author warned her readers against any blasphemous misinterpretation of her work. She asserted that high intelligence was a blessing from Amirani and that monsters neither think nor feel. Then she re-echoed the well-established view that monsters had no free will and that they were under the tyrannical control of Primordial Chaos—the evil opposing the Decree of Amirani. She proceeded to remind her readers that killing monsters was the only way to purify the world, before she finally stressed that her observations about goblins didn’t contradict the Church’s teachings.

Way to waste printing paper.

Right now, it’s just a permanent feature of my bedroom. Vance thought with a lopsided smile. He skipped ahead until he found a paragraph that seemed relevant to his plight. He read, “Goblins may leave one tribe to join another, but they never choose a life away from other goblins.” Good. “There are, however, a few rare cases of young goblins following the lead of stronger monsters.” Shit. “Goblins of the same tribe greet each other by drumming thrice on their left shoulders and stating their full name. There is no documented interspecific equivalent. If you see goblins perform this greeting, know that they will attack together and retreat together.”

Vance drummed thrice on his left shoulder and said, “Vance Wolfe.”

The goblin did the same and said, “Timathor-Gujkagoor-Khzujmar!”

Apparently, we’re in the same tribe. Vance facepalmed. Lovely.

He flipped through the pages of the book and stopped at another paragraph. The discussion had shifted to tribal leadership. He read, “Every goblin tribe has a permanent leader, who has the most wives and hoards the most food. When a goblin wants to join a tribe, it presents the leader with an offering of ribs.” Oh no. “The leader accepts these ribs, and the goblin becomes a new member of the tribe.” Mistakes have been made. “A new member may continue to offer more ribs to the leader as an expression of deep respect and admiration. In extreme cases, it may even refuse to taste food until the leader eats from it. The reader can use this information to identify the leader and eliminate it first.”

So I’m the leader, and this goblin really, really likes me. Vance paused at this rather amusing realization. Is it because I killed Severus? Or does it have to do with my Perk?

He checked the details of one of his three Perks.

Perk: Unappetizing

Monsters are no longer hostile toward you. They will not attack you unless they are provoked.

A few rare exceptions exist.

Vance was sure that this Perk had something to do with the goblin’s odd behavior, but he couldn’t determine the other conditions that he had fulfilled for this to happen. A consensual alliance between a human and a monster was unheard of, even in the most imaginative legends. The heroes of bardic epics, such as the Primura Chronicles, enslaved monsters to fight for them, while the remorseless villains used them as dispensable troops to attack cities. There was always a hard-hearted master and a debased slave but never a hint of the respect and admiration that the child goblin had for Vance.

But there was yet another stark difference between the old legends and the present reality: the legends had dragons, golems, hydras, pegasi—and never a child goblin. If a stronger monster had come knocking on his front door, Vance would’ve welcomed it with open arms. But the child goblin was the weakest of the weak. A quick look at it through his monstroscope revealed that it was only at level 7. Such a feeble monster would require a lot of care, attention, and training before it could become an asset. Was it worth such an investment? Or was it better to chase it away?

“Ow-gnedcha-baikahj!” the goblin said. “Baikahj! Baikahj!”

Vance didn’t understand the guttural sounds, but he could guess that the goblin was as hungry as he was. And so he got up, grabbed a few ingredients, and headed to the firepit. He prepared dinner for the two of them and watched the goblin eat with an immense appetite. After the meal, I’ll shoo it from here. He looked at the night sky. The moonlight is strong enough to guide it home. Then he noticed several Royal Moths lurking among the trees. The smell of the food he cooked always attracted them, but they never got close enough to pose a threat. It went out today and hunted rodents, so it should know its way around the forest. And it’s not my fault if the moths catch it.

Before long, dinner was over. Vance stood up, and the goblin copied him. They exchanged stares in the wavery light of the firepit. Vance’s face remained straight and stern, while the goblin’s eased into a smile. The chiaroscuro of the lighting made this friendly smile look diabolical, but Vance could still feel its warmth—hidden somewhere among the folds in the green skin.

“Fine. Fine,” Vance sighed.

The two walked together to the underground room. From a cupboard, Vance retrieved a camel-hair bedroll. He had bought it from a fast-talking merchant who promised him deeper and healthier sleep—even in the wild—but it turned out to be rather uncomfy. For a goblin, however, it was the dream bed. I’ll send it away first thing in the morning. Vance spread the bedroll on the ground. After all, it would be quite sad if both mother and child died in the same week.

***

The next morning, Vance woke up around ten and stopped the goblin before it could go out hunting. It was his intention to explain to it—somehow—that it couldn’t live with him, that they had to part ways forever. But shortly after they shared breakfast, he had a sudden change of heart. The fact that he had been shut out of the Federal Guild may have played a role, but he also felt a strange connection with the young Timathor. It loved him although he was a callous killer; it admired him even though he had slain an adventurer. The truth that would’ve appalled and disgusted most humans brought a smile to its face. And although he wasn’t fully aware of it, Vance wanted to see more of that smile.

If I can’t join a party any time soon, why not make things fun in another way? He went to his desk and picked up a scroll that mapped the area to the northeast. There was a long road along the edge of Blackmoss Forest. It was the route from Cromsville to the Tombs of Solario—a low-level dungeon. After they completed their basic training, beginners were sent there to experience the “real world” for the first time. And Nathan had described the place in detail when he first learned that Vance was a level 5 adventurer.

“Listen, man, I’m not sure how things work in lofty Engelsburg, but here in Cromsville, we have our own ways,” the Pyromancer said, feeling obliged to give unsolicited advice. “Your best chance is the Tombs of Solario. I know the place is a bit far, but the road’s safe. Once you get there, you’ll find a camp full of archaeologists, you know, the bunch who cry mommy whenever they see a mummy.” Nathan paused here as if he had said something neat. When Vance didn’t react, he continued, “Anyway, man, find a job at the camp, head into the tombs, and return to fetch your prize. Repeat; repeat; repeat—until you’re up a good amount of levels. You shouldn’t face any problem ’cause the camp has food, beds, and even healers.”

After this conversation, Nathan gave Vance the map that was in his hands now. He only accepted it to avoid raising any suspicions; he never thought that he would actually visit the Tombs of Solario. But here he was in the process of training a goblin, and there seemed to be no better place to start. I won’t get as much EXP as usual, but that’s not a problem for now. I only need a couple of levels, just to be extra prepared for my Class Ascension and that whole Middlerift Beast business. He looked down at Timathor. We’ll have some fun and see how much potential you have. He patted its head with some affection. If you prove yourself, I might have some use for you.

“Let’s hunt some adventurers, Timathor.”

“Ow-ushga-Vance!”

And so the two departed on a hunting trip. They traveled east through the dense forest until they reached the road to the tombs, but they didn’t continue north toward the excavation camp. Vance had a slightly different plan in mind. He performed the goblin salute, and Timathor saluted back with the confidence and discipline of a soldier. This ensured that they would attack together and retreat together. Then he ordered it to hide in the bushes near the roadside. After it had taken its position in the thickets, he climbed a tree and surveyed the area from above.

Let’s see now. Who’s out of luck today? A lone swordsman or a puny mage?

After a short while, a guild instructor appeared on the road. He was followed by a cheerful group of privileged teenagers, who were on their way to complete an overpriced training program. Each of them had potential—that is, as a tasty meal—and Timathor licked its lips at their appetizing sight. Vance, however, remembered what Raine had told him: he needed to stay away from anything related to the guild, so he remained on his tree and made no rash moves. After the group passed by, Timathor let out a grunt of clear dissatisfaction, but it didn’t challenge Vance’s decision, which was absolute.

Moments later, a rookie Paladin approached from afar. He wore an expensive set of platinum armor, which clanked and clunked with every step, and he armed himself with a sword and shield. The sword was decorated with dragon teeth, and it emitted a light that was visible even in the sun. Meanwhile, the shield was enveloped in a silver aura that offered high Magic Resistance. It seemed, however, that the Paladin didn’t have the appropriate stats for his equipment. Burdened and encumbered, he advanced at snail speed. It was as if he didn’t move forward but waited for the planet to spin under his feet.

How much did this nobleman spend on gear? 500 … No, 1000 gold? That’s one expensive death he bought himself.

Vance signaled to Timathor to get ready.

Equip Spectre.

With near-perfect timing, the two jumped out of hiding and ambushed the unwary Paladin. Before he could even raise his shield, Vance had already stabbed him. The spectral dagger ignored the armor and sank into the area near the left kidney.

Now Timathor should deliver the final blow.

The goblin raised a steel dagger that Vance had given it. It needed to aim for a chink in the armor, and it seemed to be doing just that. Midway through the attack, however, it suddenly stopped and cheered, “Hinjaoor!”

Vance looked at the Paladin again and realized that he was already dead. The single stab was enough to rob him of his life, but the platinum armor was so stiff that he had died while standing up.

Battle Result You gained a boosted 500 EXP.

I guess any stab is still too much. From now on, I should just scratch them gently.

Vance and Timathor dragged the Paladin’s corpse into the bushes. There, Vance removed the armor, sword, and shield—placing them in a hollow tree trunk until he decided whether he would take them home. Then he returned to the treetops for another ambush, and Timathor sought the bushes hotfoot.

The next person to approach was a Gadgeteer—an adventurer who wielded Ezran gadgets instead of conventional weapons. She had two electro-spikers, one in each hand. An electro-spiker consisted of a metal sphere that was tied to a handcuff with an elastic chain. When the metal sphere was thrown, spikes protruded from its surface, and a current of electro-magic flowed among them. The weapon was designed so that it would cause not only physical injury but also short-term paralysis. And the elastic chain ensured that the metal spheres would always return to the user after they hit their target.

This one seems more promising than the last.

Vance jumped off the tree and landed behind the Gadgeteer. His landing was so light and smooth that she only felt it as a gentle breeze. He raised his spectral dagger and slashed across her back. Then he kicked her from behind, and she fell on the ground. For a moment, he thought that he had killed her by mistake, but shortly afterward, she moaned in pain and began to move again. It seemed that she didn’t know what had hit her. By the time she raised herself from the ground, Vance had escaped her eyes, and she only saw Timathor before her.

The little goblin dashed with clumsy steps and stabbed her in the right thigh. She cried out in pain, but the stab wasn’t enough to kill her. And after she shook Timathor off, she retaliated by throwing one of her electro-spikers. The sharp spikes protruded out, and the electro-magic flowed through the gadget with intimidating sparks. It struck Timathor in the shoulder, dealing significant damage and paralyzing it with a visible flow of current.

The Gadgeteer only had to throw her other electro-spiker to eliminate the powerless goblin, but Vance interfered before it was too late. Still undetected, he rushed at her, slashed her shoulder with his spectral dagger, and pushed her away from Timathor. After she fell to the ground again, he got a potion out of his bag and made the goblin drink it. She’s too strong for Timathor, but the stronger they are, the more EXP they give. When the goblin finished drinking the potion, it stood straight again and recovered from its paralysis.

“Can you still fight?” Vance said.

“Ow-ushga-Vance!” the goblin said, before it charged with its dagger.

It was at a shattering disadvantage, but it refused to give up. If monsters had been graded by courage instead of level, it would’ve ranked in the highest tier. And it wasn’t only its courage that was outstanding: it seemed to have already learned that the electro-spikers were the real threat. When the Gadgeteer threw them again, it sidestepped the first and avoided the second with a quirky jump. Then it lunged forward with a thirst for blood. Grabbing the Gadgeteer’s thighs, it bit her bleeding wound and forced a scream out of her mouth. Then it climbed her back and grabbed her hair. The Gadgeteer tried to shake it off, but it was worse than an entangled comb on a bad hair day.

The little rascal might just do it.

Timathor raised the steel dagger and aimed for its opponent’s exposed neck.