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Goblin Chapter 118: Shocking News
🕑 Added 2025-08-05 20:30:44 +0000 UTC“Could that have been... some kind of dark ritual?”
Alia finally broke the silence.
“Dark ritual? As in... involving an evil god?” Gauss followed up. Fragments of old knowledge floated to the surface of his mind—stories of evil deities, chaotic beings in opposition to the divine.
“Yeah,” Alia nodded gravely. “But the name that ratmen mentioned... I’ve never heard of it before.”
Gauss took note.
If even Alia didn’t recognize it, then his own mundane knowledge from before becoming an adventurer was probably useless here.
“Let’s bring this back,” he said, eyes landing on the pale, curled scale lying at the center of the now-dry basin. “Maybe the Guild will know something.”
The Adventurer’s Guild rewarded submissions of unusual intel—sometimes even more than monster bounties.
“Be careful,” Alia warned softly.
For most people, anything tied to an evil god was a sign of deep misfortune.
“Got it.”
Gauss moved in, used Mage Hand to wrap the scale in cloth, and carefully stowed it in his pouch.
Privately, he doubted that a group of low-level ratmen could have any real connection to an evil god. Logically, beings like that would probably only care about stronger vessels or servants.
They gave the desecrated altar room one last sweep, making sure nothing was missed, then quickly retreated.
Now came the cleanup.
Outside of the room still smoldering from the fire oil, the other chambers were packed with the ratmen’s crude gear and living supplies.
Alia moved fast. She was clearly more experienced than Gauss—and perhaps trying to prove she’d contributed.
She sorted through everything: rusty but reusable weapons, scraps of armor, a few untainted ores, and strange bones or shells that might be worth something to an alchemist. Everything went into bundles to be stuffed into Gauss’s surprisingly spacious storage pouch.
For adventurers, the quest payout was often just the base pay. The real profits came from the loot—sometimes far exceeding the original commission.
Back in the room they’d torched, the flames had mostly died out. A dozen charred ratmen corpses still smoldered in scattered patches.
The fire had burned through plenty of materials, but some metal gear had survived the heat. The damage was acceptable.
Once they’d fully cleared the dungeon and ensured nothing was left behind, the two finally climbed out of the suffocating underground.
Back on the surface, they also gathered the weapons and armor fragments from the battlefield above.
Only after everything was sorted and packed did they allow themselves a breath of relief.
This quest hadn’t been difficult, but it was disgustingly grim. Both of them were filthy, reeking of blood and gore.
“Prestidigitation.”
Gauss raised a hand and cast a few cleaning cantrips. Invisible waves of magic swept across his body, erasing grime and neutralizing most of the stench.
He noticed Alia looking at him—not directly asking, but clearly hoping.
She was just as filthy.
Gauss waved her over.
“It won’t use much mana, right? If it’s too much trouble, don’t worry—I'm used to it,” she said shyly.
“It’s nothing,” Gauss shrugged. “My mana pool’s bigger than most mages. And it’s just a cantrip—barely costs anything.”
Worst case, he’d just eat more food later to recover.
“Thanks, then.” Alia stepped up.
Gauss repeated the process, casting the spell over her. The layers of filth and stench peeled away like mist, leaving her feeling clean and refreshed. She stretched her limbs and sighed.
“That’s so much better. Thanks a bunch.”
“Don’t mention it.”
Gauss found a clean rock nearby, sat down, and resumed snacking.
Alia didn’t even blink this time. She was already used to his bottomless appetite.
She sat beside him.
“Kinda jealous of you mages,” she admitted. “You get to learn all these handy little spells.”
She normally didn’t chat casually with temporary teammates. But Gauss was different—he gave off a calm, trustworthy presence. She didn’t feel like she had to guard her words around him.
“Can’t druids do the same?” Gauss asked between bites. “You were casting spells earlier too. Can’t you buy spellbooks and learn more?”
“Nope.” Alia shook her head.
“Our internal energy—nature power—isn’t the same as your arcane mana. It only lets us learn certain predefined sequences of spells and tricks.”
“Like, your Prestidigitation? We can’t learn it.”
“We’ve got something similar—Druidcraft. But it’s much more limited. Four effects total: predicting weather, accelerating plant growth, simulating minor natural phenomena, and controlling small flames.”
“Most of our magic is tied to nature, life, or the elements.”
“Got it.” Gauss nodded.
The distinction between magic users and other spellcasting classes was becoming clearer.
“Still,” he added, “you guys get animal companions, can shapeshift in the future, and even summon creatures. That’s pretty amazing.”
In this world, every class had its own path. There was no point in being envious.
Take that wolf, for instance. As a druid, Alia had a loyal companion and an extra battle asset.
Alia smiled faintly, reaching out to scratch behind the wolf’s ears.
“His name’s Ulfen. It means ‘heart of the wolf’ in the old tongue.”
“Ulfen, huh?” Gauss called out.
The gray wolf immediately perked up, tongue out, tail wagging.
Gauss tossed it a strip of jerky. Ulfen snapped it from the air and gulped it down, then licked his lips, eyes gleaming with anticipation.
“Heh. Greedy little guy.” Gauss threw a few more pieces.
With the storage pouch, food supplies weren’t a problem. He could carry more, and on the road, hunting or foraging for ingredients was easy enough.
After finishing, Ulfen came up and licked Gauss’s hand, then flopped over and rolled, belly up.
“Ahem.” Alia glanced over, a little sour.
Sure, she’d used beast speech to encourage the wolf to befriend Gauss—but this was a bit much…
Ulfen looked back at her, confused.
She just sighed and smiled. Whatever. Let him enjoy himself.
They rested under the shade for a while.
Once Gauss had finished eating, they packed up and headed for the designated rendezvous point: a giant oak tree.
As expected, the carriage driver was still there, waiting patiently.
It was around 4 p.m.
They boarded the cart and began their journey back to Wheatvale Manor.
Given what had happened, they'd need the steward, Howen, to draft a supplementary report. And someone from the mansion would have to cremate the mound of rat corpses outside the chapel to prevent disease.
“Stay sharp,” Gauss whispered to Alia as they neared the mansion gates, giving her a meaningful look.
They didn’t know if the mansion and the church were connected somehow, but it never hurt to be cautious.
At the gate, the guards recognized them and let them through without issue.
Before long, Steward Howen arrived to greet them.
“Thank you both for your hard work. The servants have prepared hot baths—would you like to clean up first?”
“Later. There's something we need to report first.”
Gauss gave a full account of the quest, carefully omitting the part about the evil god.
He claimed they’d cleared all the ratmen, but the numbers didn’t match the original report. He emphasized that no enemies had escaped, and asked for an official supplement to the quest log.
“Understood,” Howen replied calmly, showing no sign of surprise. “I’ll send someone to verify the site. If everything checks out, I’ll issue the report.”
That eased Gauss’s nerves.
Once they were done, the two finally bathed, changed into fresh clothes, and enjoyed a peaceful night in the manor’s comfortable guest rooms.
…
It seemed Howen had already sent someone to inspect the site. Without delay, he issued an official confirmation of quest completion.
Technically, adventurers could carry a Guild Recording Crystal for such evidence, but most Bronze-rankers and above disliked them due to privacy concerns. Luckily, the Guild didn’t require it.
As fate would have it, the merchant caravan that brought them here had also stayed an extra night—apparently for a major business deal.
So Gauss and Alia hitched another ride, heading back toward Grayrock Town.
As the carriage neared the town gates, Gauss and Alia disembarked early.
Immediately, Gauss noticed something was off.
A long line of carts and pedestrians snaked around the entrance, moving at a crawl.
“Why’s the inspection so slow today?”
“Beats me. We’ve been waiting over half an hour and haven’t moved an inch!”
“Shh—something big just happened. Just let it be.”
“Something big?” Gauss caught the whispers from the crowd.
He and Alia didn’t need to queue. The guards recognized them and let them through after a hushed conversation—but their eyes were tense, different from usual.
“Yep, something definitely happened,” Gauss thought as they stepped into town. Last time they returned, it hadn’t been like this.
Alia looked equally puzzled. They’d just finished a quest and had no clue what was going on.
As they walked through the main street, Gauss overheard chatter in one of the shops—and finally pieced it together.
In the past few days, a world-shaking event had occurred.
Roland, the legendary Sword Saint, hailed as the Light of the Empire and said to have lived over 180 years, had finally passed away. His old wounds had flared up, and he died in seclusion within the imperial palace.
Though Roland had kept to himself in recent years, his presence was still considered the single greatest source of stability for the human world.
His death sent shockwaves across the continent.
Even a remote border town like Grayrock felt the weight of it. The very air seemed heavier—filled with unease and mourning.
