Running around for over two dozen hours really starts to make your legs cramp up. More precisely, your legs would cramp up, and so would anyone in the new world; however the Stamina system meant mine would be able to continue without issue. Even so, they began aching from what I could only assume was a buildup of tedium.

Jogging south towards Yhrack yet again, my newest level settled down. The past day and a half were on the tedious side, but it had been fantastic for levelling so far. Quantity has a quality all its own when it comes to grinding. At least because of all this mindless slaughter I was about to acquire a new spell; hopefully one more immediately useful.

Not that was a bad spell at all; however it had been chosen, it really was indispensable, especially in the case of learning more about the magic system of the world. It just sort of set aside the whole ‘grand archmage’ vibe for a more scholarly one.

I was dominating the world enough without the effective combat spells, so I supposed I could get by without it. Only for the moment though, what kind of wizard can’t throw a respectable fireball? Even a necromancer should be able to summon netherflames or something of that sort.

Making in back to Yhrack on my own, on the way back the fields of carnage were actually diminishing in scope closer to the main clash of forces. Surviving goblins and wargs ate their fill at the graveyard buffet. Keeping and active, the thick, otherworldly presence of souls permeated into the terrain; a phenomena I had yet to witness.

It mostly occurred with the void coloured wisps, which after settling down on an object occasionally fused into the nearby material, disappearing from my sight. When in contact with a goblin the rate increased, more so with the living than the dead. Watching these tiny remnants of the soul flicker about, I came across the idea that they were what formed goblin nests.

Though I got along well with tKlor’t’t, goblin culture acted to volatile to put my faith in. Even if chieftains agreed to leave the village alone, a turnabout was not unlikely. My Soul Power from the war felt overwhelming, yet as I passed through I did my best to collect from around me. [Soul Preservation] slightly aided me in the amount drawn out from each cluster, but as it did not improve the actual rate of collection the process was a bit slow.

By this time a great deal of void essence likely already made its way into the environment; but the remaining quantity wasn’t small either. Slurping up the power, I paced my jog so as to be more thorough, but didn’t slow myself too much. The rate didn’t depend on my speed so as long as I was within the battle area the souls were being drained at the same rate.

It made me happy that even the interior of the nest past the brambley walls had not been spared either, so no time collecting the souls was lost. Looking around for awhile, I ended up casually beginning to grab corpses in the process of searching for Khtraal or Ychk. Asking directions wasn’t really possible, so I made the most of my time.

Around noon Khtraal showed himself. Accompanied by several warg riders in rough shape, most of their mouths and fronts were drenched in blood from unrestrained eating. I could practically see tKlor’t’t next to my frowning at the wasteful eating habits; his own spawn, while still goblins, made sure to at least chew carefully. They also ate in teams so that little to nothing would go to waste. Khtraal and his spawn showed little discipline in comparison.

“So you decided to return to me. Hopefully you have completed the task I set for you? Though your word is not enough to convince me, this is a rather important matter. There needs to be proof before I can reward you.” Atop his large warg, Khtraal enjoyed the rare chance to physically look down on me. His demands were made with a light tone of sarcasm; they were honestly pretty fair, and made me hopeful that the goods in his treasury actually were worth something. No need to make him look like a fool by letting him go on for too long—I tossed a body out from Inventory.

Khtraal let out a raspy trill that qualified as a goblin sigh. Looking up and down the body, he shrugged.

“Since I have seen it, I can’t disbelieve that he’s dead. This is really your work?”

“Of course. It’s not as though I needed any outside help, he was distracted by Ghojtroik and Zhargorb. Then I took them down as well.”

“Three Chieftains?” Khtraal narrowed his eyes at me. His subordinates shifted in their own private bubble of tension behind him. Staring at the mangled body, their chief continued to think on his own. Eventually he spoke in a simple tone to two of the riders. “Kuguhk, Khtkra, take Alric to treasure and Alric pick 12 pieces.”

All of a sudden the tension dissipated. It looked like unveiling the corpse convinced Khtraal to rethink betraying me. He really wasn’t stupid, only incredibly arrogant. Well, I guess he was kind of stupid for believing the trick so easily; then again, tKlor’t’t was surprisingly well prepared for this situation.

Upon calling two body doubles, the only ones in the vicinity and not total, I fully decided on backing the machiavellian chief. Recognizing the value of being presumed dead, or otherwise planting false information among the enemy, tKlor’t’t planned for numerous contingencies. Skilled in controlling the creation of his spawn, who already resembled their progenitor, while not trivial, he had an abundance scattered through areas he frequented.

After some deliberation, I chose the one that looked more like him. Despite the resemblance, the double looked a bit thin, so when I smashed it with my new hammer, I made sure the torso was more or less obliterated after a few cuts where tKlor’t’t had suffered them.

He showed a little regret as the back of his armor crumpled in, but it was necessary. The front remained relatively intact, and it was lamellar, many of the plates remained usable; rethreading them with goblin hands would be time consuming though.

The differences between the fake and the real almost totally obliterated by the death blow, it was highly improbable that Khtraal would pick up on it. Given tKlor’t’t’s cunning nature, I suspected he realized even if Khtraal did turn on me who would be the surviving party. It made me grateful he passed on such a ploy, I’d hate to have to chase him down among his lookalikes. That would be too troublesome.

As things were, the two warg riders led me back to Oirk.

Due to fatigue, the Khtraal wargs slowed down my movement. I remember back in the day when I was the one struggling to keep up with them...right, that was only a few weeks ago then. Anyhow, under their escort, it was an uneventful trip.

Reaching Oirk, the nest felt absolutely desolate. There were still dozens upon dozens of goblins on the ground and in the trees no matter which way you turned, but compared to the normal feeling of sardines in a can it was barren.

Traveling near to where the mud dome was, there were about a dozen well armed raal that remained behind. showed their spirits did not seem comparable to those of the warg riders at my side. Strictly speaking, they were, but they appeared substantially weaker. From my perspective they all posed the same level of threat—none.

Four stood at the edges of a pit, with a tunnel leading into the chthonic depths. The goblins had excavated a ramp out of the side of what appeared to be a sinkhole, giving me a look at the layers of stone present. The strata were unusually blended, turning from a dark humusy color to deep gray. To further confuse me, there were several, seemingly random circles and lines of lighter gray stone across the exposed walls.

Putting aside intellectual curiosity for more practical matters, I knocked on the types of stone to test their resilience. Peering into the dark path underground didn’t show any signs of supporting structures. Given the arch at the top of the burrow’s entrance matched the random discolored circles; I suspected it to be in part a natural formation, which I trusted a little more than goblin handiwork. I still did a very thorough check of tapping along the walls of the pit before entering the underground, much to my escort’s irritation. Judging it to be safe enough, I began the descent.

ing the way, after initially hunching down to enter, the floor dropped while the ceiling remained relatively level. Jagged lower portions of the walls indicated that the tunnel had originally been rather small before being excavated downwards. The roughly hewn stone seemed to have retained its durability, as the slope had many partially constructed paths that ran into cylindrical formations that could not be removed.

I trailed my hand against the wall as we moved deeper; the silty texture alternating between flat and lumpy, as well as having some grittier spots. That didn't feel like any rock I knew, but that was to be expected. Wondering what processes formed it, and if it could even be qualified as one of the three main types of rock, we crossed over the irregular stone ground.

The air cooled as we descended for maybe five minutes, the light from the surface not visible due to the twists of the passage. Having gone down a gentle slope, it felt like we couldn't be all that deep underground, but there was no way to tell. Only the stoic stone which resided in the depths since time immemorial. What a comfortable place to be.

Eventually, though weak against my own light, I spotted a faint glow along the walls of the tunnel. A slight difference in hues, I hurried down in anticipation, wondering what the source was. The passage suddenly widening into a large stone chamber, I rubbed my hands together greedily. It seemed like the right thing to do.

Clearly established for quite some time, goblins had put in the effort to smooth out the surfaces of the room. According to tKlor’t’t nests were transient, but I supposed he meant that on a national timescale. Otherwise, why would so much work be put into such a project? Hollowed out to around 10 meters in diameter, the ceiling arched flatly about three meters above the ground; which from the goblins’ perspective must have looked much more grand than it did to me.

That said, I still found it a soothing sight; I am rather weak against underground aesthetics. A cool, dark, and silent place—there really isn’t much more relaxing than that. Even if this one was rather simple in comparison to others.

The glittering pile of treasure piled across the edges of the room certainly elevated my views as well.

In comparison to dragon hoards, or even modern day jewelry, it faltered, but it happened to be my first sight of riches in this world. I could cut it a little bit of slack. There were a few coins which the goblins collected and had no use for other than perhaps appearing more wealthy, but they did add to the richness of the pile. Other non-utilitarian items included a variety of crystals, figurines and other shiny gewgaws.

However the grand bulk of the materials were not so gaudy. Instead there were many which were dull, roughly shaped from wood or bone. Nicked and occasionally stained with blood, it was easy to tell what the true treasures were. Though they did not have the same bright and clear-cut qualities as the coins or gems, they had a radiance of their own.

Quite literally, in fact. Roughly one in twenty of those objects emitted their own faint glow, painting the surroundings with a dim prismatic light. The colors may not have been very vibrant, but it was apparent which treasures were truly valuable.

Khtraal, I really must thank you for allowing me to take a dozen of these. Since I completed such a dangerous mission for you, I won’t hold back!