Seeker and his party escorted us out of the Wood King’s domain.

  “If I heard you correctly,” he said as we traveled through the dense undergrowth of the forest, “you do not intend to return to the human establishment?”

  The Wood Elves traveled on deerback while the rest of us journeyed on foot. Without any need for her services, Medekeine had relegated Div back to his inventory. I had a thousand questions regarding the mechanism of her storage, but Medekeine became tight-lipped whenever the topic of the div was broached.

  We walked in pairs, with Kajal and the dwarf trailing the elves while Logain brought up the rear. Seeker kept an eye out on the path, leading his party in a fanned-out formation.

  “Let me understand,” he said, blinking in confusion. “Rather than journey back to your cozy city and ignore all of this goblin business, you intend to extend your time in Dreadwood?”

  “Yes,” Kajal said.

  Seeker nodded sagely. “Yes, she says. And, this is because the Dark Elves are your priority?”

  “They are not my priority,” Medekeine mumbled.

  Kajal kept her features taut. “We are obliged to help Damien on his quest.”

  Seeker glanced at us with incredulity. “I like a good suicide mission when I hear one, but what are you hoping to find? Harkonean is probably no more than dirt and rubble at this time.”

  “Our party, our choice.”

  Seeker’s eyebrows rose even higher. “If you have the time to do this, why not accept the request of the Wood King? It pays good money, and you city dwellers never stop itching to fondle our gems.”

  “Language,” Paz drawled.

  Seeker winked at him.

  “I’ve delivered your request via Scribbler,” Kajal said. “If the guilds are up to it, they’ll send another cargo train your way. Our part in this is done.”

  “Pity,” Seeker said. “I doubt the humans can find another courier as strong or exquisite as you.”

  I made a face at his comment. Seeker’s companion, Svani, mimicked gagging motions.

  Kajal took the compliment in stride. “You could lend us your assistance if our departure bothers you that much.”

  “I assure you it does.” Seeker said. “The mere thought of your beautiful skin getting carved up by goblin knives hurts my soul.”

  “Maybe your soul would hurt less,” I suggested, “if you shared information with us regarding goblin activity.”

  “What’s there to tell? You see goblins, you kill them. Nothing more to it.”

  Paz had to restrain me from lobbing a rock at his face. The fucking bastard.

  We arrived at the western border within three days.

  Seeker’s crew made themselves scarce shortly after, chasing a goblin lead. It left our original party to our devices, reinforcing the fact that we had been separated for longer than we’d been together.

  “I take it that we are not going to Harkonean,” Paz said, once we came free of our minders.

  Logain gawked at me. “We aren’t?”

  “It’s a fool’s errand, anyway,” I said. “The village is destroyed, but not its survivors. That offers a clear course of action.”

  Kajal showed no surprise, having arrived at a similar conclusion. “This will be different, Damien. Way harder than wandering into goblin-controlled territory. You are proposing that we enter their tunnels to chase after their captives.”

  “He is proposing what?” Medekeine spat.

  “Shouldn’t you be in support of this?” I asked. “You want answers about the horde. You’ll get them. Where better to find this than under the earth?”

  “Dangerous,” Logain said, shaking his head. “We’ll be up against hundreds, possibly thousands, of goblins. And, all this while getting bogged down with captives.” He spat on the ground. “No offense, Damien, we have no guarantee that any of the Dark Elves are alive at this moment. There is no rational justification for your suggestion.”

  “There is,” Kajal said. “Sooner or later, we will need to enter the tunnels. Why not now? Before it becomes even harder?”

  “I will not rescue a single elf,” Medekeine said. “We should be headed in the direction of the Fanged Mountains to find the leader of this horde. This stupid side quest will cost us precious time.”

  Paz leered at him. “Get a headstart then, why don’t you? The rest of us can follow after you once we are done here. Or your corpse. Whichever we find.”

  Medekeine purpled.

  Logain cleared his throat. “Am I the only one who thinks that the lot of you are forgetting something? The goblins are active throughout Dreadwood, but we still don’t know from whence they come. How do we find their prisoners in this massive forest?”

  “Leave that to me,” I said.

  “To you?” Logain frowned. “I’m sorry, but the redhead and I are the only ones here who have encountered a goblin train. What makes you think—”

  “How many days would you need, Damien?” Kajal interjected.

  I considered my plan. “One night. One night is fine.”

  “You have it,” Kajal said. “The rest of us will conserve our energy for when we need to move.”

  We didn’t stray too far away from Nyneveh’s borders to avoid unnecessary encounters. But, we gleaned the current state of the forest just fine.

  In the time we’d spent within the peaceful borders of Nyneveh, Dreadwood had gone to shit. Tall columns of smoke formed permanent features on the horizon, an indication of war. The general feeling of unease that we had grown accustomed to had since progressed into full-blown paranoia.

  I spent most of the evening fiddling with [System] screens while the others prepared for the night. As the sun descended beneath the treetops, I made my way back into our makeshift camp.

  “So,” I said, presenting myself for their appraisal, “what do you think?”

  Paz gagged. “Kill it! Kill it with fire!”

  Kajal took one look, and though she maintained a cool expression, her complexion paled. “Damien . . .”

  “Disgusting,” Logain said and spat.

  Medekeine added a snide comment, something about elves and inbreds, though I didn’t particularly care.

  “Come on,” I said. “It’s not that bad.”

  “Damien”—Paz winced as he addressed me—“this is the single most hideous image that I have seen in all my years. And, I have witnessed some truly horrible sights since leaving my mother’s womb.”

  “Why does it look like you smell?” Logain said and wrinkled his nose. “Urgh. I really don’t want to touch you. If you were a real enemy, I would have walked away in the opposite direction.”

  Ouch.

  Kajal covered her mouth, as though suppressing the urge to hurl. “That’s an impressive disguise. Did you create it all by yourself?”

  “Well, yes,” I said and puffed my chest.

  All three shrank backward.

  “Oh for heaven’s sake!” I said. “It’s just a disguise. I think I did a good job, all things considered.”

  “This is what you spent hours creating?” Paz asked. “I mean, I knew goblins were meant to be hideous. But, why go so far?” He mock-gagged again.

  “You bastards don’t understand the craft. I’ve studied the goblins, okay? They cherish features that we larger humanoids take for granted.”

  “But, did your nose need to be that big?” Kajal asked. “And runny? I think I can see your sinuses.”

  I raised my green nose into the air. The others winced again.

  Bah! True art was wasted on these plebs. I’d spent long hours on the [Impostor] configuration screen to create the greatest goblin specimen.

  Yellow teeth that looked like they could tear into tree bark? Check.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  A hooked nose that put those of hag witches to shame? Check.

  The greenest of skin? Check.

  Wispy strands of hair that floated on my scalp? Check.

  A layer of dirt and sludge that indicated I hadn’t showered in years, including accompanying body lice? Check.

  And, to top it all off, a rotund figure to suggest good health with an extra foot or two in height over regular goblins.

  I called this form: [Grishnak the Unbreakable]. And, he possessed something unbreakable beneath his tattered leathers too if anyone caught my drift. Huhuhu.

  “You’re honestly the ugliest goblin I’ve seen,” Kajal said with a deadpan expression.

  “Which just means,” I explained, “that I’m one to kill for, according to goblin sensibilities. You’re just being racist in assuming that your views on attractiveness are inherently superior to those of others.”

  Kajal narrowed her eyes. Logain behind her audibly gulped.

  “Anyway,” I said, hastily changing the topic, “I’ll find the location of the goblin prisoners. Or a goblin camp, at the least. Lie low and wait till I return.”

  Indeed, the artificial darkness approached in the distance, deepening the onset of night. It looked and felt even more sinister outside the domain of the Wood King. How were the Wood Elves not bothered by this development?

  “One last thing”—I turned to Kajal—“What does [Identify] say?”

  She activated her skill. “Goblin Scout Level 23.” Her eyes narrowed further. “I see. Even to the [Insight] perk, you cast hues of greyish power upon reality.”

  Which meant that [Impostor] could be used to manipulate not just clothing and appearance, but also class, level, and rank. The more I thought about it, the more incredible it seemed. Wasn’t this skill too overpowered for its tier?

  The Trickster class had always seemed like the weakest of the thirteen, but if as little as five percent of Tricksters managed to unlock [Impostor] in their lifetime, they could commit atrocities that would humble the more powerful classes.

  I parted ways with the others and made my way through the treacherous landscape of Dreadwood under [Nightfall]. [Silhouette] awoke as I traveled, seeming even stronger than I remembered.

  “You ready to hunt, buddy?” I asked the shadowy monster.

  It shivered in delight, and then it paused as it noticed my appearance. A few seconds later, it shrank back into my shadow.

  Oh, come on now! Not you too.

  I traveled for a while in that manner, abusing the hell out of [Dark Stalker] since it required no MP.

  Nybala and Harkonean lay somewhere in the northwest, the closest villages to the Fanged Mountains in the north. Both regions could reasonably be expected to harbor increased goblin activity. But, I need not have bothered.

  The goblins were everywhere.

  Small bands of them crawled through the forest under the protection of [Nightfall], almost as quietly as I did. They didn’t even try to avoid the paths. If anything, they treated the roadways like an extension of their territory.

  The goblins who manned the surface served as patrols and lookouts, but even then, one thing was certain. They didn’t patrol at random. They watched the western roads as if forming a leaguer around the region to keep enemies in. My heart throbbed with the realization that the west harbored a majority of the tall pillars of smoke.

  Another elf village was under siege somewhere yonder. But, the Wood King did nothing for them, which meant that there was little I could do in turn.

  I avoided the bands of patrolling goblins and ventured instead in the opposite direction in search of clues. If the goblins intended to isolate the western elves from the rest of their kin, then they would need a reliable source of supplies to sustain their efforts.

  I still hadn’t found a single goblin tunnel after all my sleuthing, but unless they had access to mass teleportation, the goblins couldn’t travel without notice via other means. The freed captive that I’d spoken to back in Nyneveh—Menelhar, was it?—had also confirmed the existence of the tunnels.

  So, where did the goblins hide them? Or was there something at work that prevented their enemies from finding the tunnel exits? Goblin Sorcerers tended to specialize in Confusion, which was basically illusion magic. Ugh. Did I need to reveal myself to one of the patrols before I could learn their secrets?

  I continued my investigation far into the night, across large acres of forest, and just when I’d given up hope of finding any clues, riotous laughter reached my ears.

  Three goblins stood around a tree, some distance off the beaten path. Their throaty cackles and shrill voices exposed their lack of unease in the magic-infused forest. Ease didn’t equal unawareness, however. These goblins were anything but. Each of them could see well in the darkness, doubly so in [Nightfall]. They were also armed to the teeth, as the little critters loved to be.

  A slender Wood Elf rounded off the number of sapients in their gathering. She stood with her head lowered to her chest, limbs bound to the tree. The Wood Elf didn’t stir all through their cackling . . .

  Because she was dead.

  Blood dripped from her abdomen onto the grass, seeping from a ragged wound that could only have been inflicted in the cruelest of ways.

  Righteous anger stirred in my gut. But, I stamped it down in exchange for thinking like a goblin. I wasn’t Damien now or any humanoid ranker. I was the monster: Grishnak the Unbreakable.

  Grishnak wouldn’t react with anger at the sight of a dead elf. Grishnak would cheer and piss all over the corpse.

  The goblins passed something between them, making small talk. I dropped [Dark Stalker] and lumbered into their gathering.

  “Oi, What’s this?” I sneered. “What’s this we have here?”

  The goblins reached for their weapons.

  “Who goes?!” the apparent leader snarled, brandishing a nasty-looking scimitar. He blinked as he took in my appearance. “Oh, a fellow maggot, huh?”

  And then, he hurled.

  The others behind him panicked at the sight.

  “What’s it?” one of the two said, in a decidedly feminine voice. “What’s wrong, Tomburk? Did he throw something at you?” She glared at me, intent on charging only to stop in her tracks. She blanched—“Ugly!”—and retched off to the side.

  The third goblin went green around the face, which was saying something, considering his complexion. “What is this supposed to be?”

  My eyebrows twitched. “I am Grishnak—”

  “A damn ugly fuck, that’s what you are,” Tomburk said and wiped his mouth. “Shouldn’t you be called Ugluk instead? With a face like that, who needs Fear to win the war?”

  My vision blurred. I’m not crying, okay? I just have something in my eyes.

  “Why are you here?” Tomburk snarled, waving his scimitar. “This is a long way off from your patrol route, uggo.”

  “I am Grishnak—”

  “Run him off,” the female goblin shrieked. “I suffer mental damage just by looking at him!”

  Okay. That was one step too far.

  “You fucking bastards,” I growled. “Do you not realize that you are just as hideous as I am?”

  “Just as hideous?” The third goblin gasped. “If my mother gave birth to a sibling like you, I’d kill it with a pillow!”

  “Kill them both even!” the female said.

  “Yuck. Now, I have lost my appetite.” The third goblin pointed at Tomburk. “See. I told you we would have been better off working the mines. Once you start mingling with the other clans, you end up meeting inbreds!”

  My fist trembled with barely suppressed rage. Calm down, Damien.

  “How is any of this my fault, mate?” Tomburk asked. “I didn’t know that our coalition featured any of these types.” He glanced at me and shaded his eyes. “What’s your clan name, uggo?”

  Clan name?

  “I have none,” I said.

  Tomburk shook his head. “Abandoned at birth, I see. Well, with a face like that, I don’t blame your mother. Whatever the case, the Captains don’t condone breaking ranks. You should rejoin your squadron.”

  My eyebrow twitched at the jibe. I was going to murder every single one of these goblins before the night was over. But, I needed some information first.

  “My squadron's dead, you worm,” I said. “We were escorting slaves back to the tunnels when we were ambushed by the filthy mud elves. I’ve been running ever since!”

  Tomburk’s features softened. “Oh? Such is the tale of many of a maggot. The same happened to our squadron a few hours ago.” He pointed at the corpse. “This one was too slow to escape alongside the rest. We’ve made her an example.”

  “You’re still ugly though,” the female goblin said.

  “He is,” Tomburk agreed. “But, if he’s been running from elves, we can cut him some slack.” He lobbed an item at me.

  I caught it deftly.

  “The Captains will have our heads if they learn what we’ve been doing,” Tomburk said. “But everyone does it, eh? Who’s to know if no one tells? Now, you are in on it too.”

  I stared at the item in my hand: a gnawed human leg, or elf’s, to be precise. It had been chopped off the corpse hanging on the tree. And, eaten.

  An irrational rage boiled in my gut.

  No, not irrational. I had seen the goblins resort to crucifixion, torture, and even beheadings. Flesh-eating was the obvious natural progression. Everything they had done here could have also been done to the Dark Elves in Harkonean.

  The Wood King did not wish to lift a finger to repel the invasion, but it didn’t mean that the elves deserved this, Nanduli? or Hinduli?.

  “That was the best part!” the third goblin cried.

  “Feast on the other leg!” Tomburk spat. “I’ve lost taste for it, anyway. You can’t tell me you still want meat after looking at that mug.”

  “I’ve had my fill of elves,” I said, setting the butchered limb on the ground. “I’ve had my fill of everything tonight. Can I join up with you?”

  “Over my dead body,” the female goblin remarked.

  I grinned at her. Grishnak will remember that. “It’s just until we return to camp. Surely, you can be kind enough.”

  Tomburk narrowed his eyes. “Camp? You mean The Pit?”

  “Aye.”

  “What’s so fun about that? We’d just be made to perform menial tasks all over again. We’re better off joining the fighting in the west.”

  “Not if we return as heroes.”

  All three frowned at my words.

  “What do you mean, ugly?” Tomburk asked.

  “Listen,” I said and pulled an item from my loincloth. “This is a weapon stolen from one of the elves.”

  The Blackreach Dagger gleamed in my hand, indistinguishable in the darkness. I poured some mana into it, and it erupted with shadows.

  The goblins backed away from the display. When I didn’t attack, however, a dangerous glint shone in their eyes.

  I recognized that look.

  “What is that fell blade?” the female goblin asked.

  “A construct of Fear,” I said. “What do you think the Captains will say if we return with this?”

  Tomburk glanced at his colleagues. “Great things will be said if they allow us to claim credit for its discovery. It’s a fine weapon, after all. Fitting for the Chief or the Dragon Lord.” He touched his forehead as he spoke, a gesture imitated by his companions.

  Wait . . . what Dragon Lord?

  “Assuming that those bastards recognize our accomplishment,” Tomburk continued, “we could very well be given a chance to evolve.”

  The bit about the Dragon Lord had thrown me for a loop. But, I didn’t miss how the situation had become about us. Our accomplishment rather than mine, huh?

  “So,” I said, “you’d let me join up with you?”

  “With what you managed to find?” Tomburk shrugged. “Sure.” He yelled at his companions. “Alright, you maggots! Listen up. We are done here. Grab whatever you need.”

  They scurried about to obey his instructions.

  “And, you”—Tomburk tossed a strip of cloth at me—“I might have agreed to help you, but that doesn’t mean that I need to suffer your ugly looks any longer. Cover up your face!”

  The stench of sweat and dead roaches rose like a fog over the cloth, but I tied it over the lower half of my face regardless. The goblins stripped the dead elf for meat and armor, and then they scampered off into the night.

  I followed them as quickly as I could.

  They didn’t mean an actual Dragon Lord, did they?