The Goblin Horde

by Ivan Kal

  But now he needed to deal with Vall.

  “I know what you are going through, and you can’t allow yourself to fall any deeper into this hole.”

  “Yes, I can see you are missing a limb, too. How stupid of me to not have noticed it before,” Vall replied dryly.

  “You want to stay in your room, in your bed. You don’t want to talk with anyone, you don’t even want to see anyone. You think that you are worthless and you feel like you just can’t breathe. At times you think to yourself, ‘Okay, it’s time for me to get up, to go do something, to deal with my responsibilities,’ but you don’t. You just stay in bed and think you have more time, and then when you’ve missed your task, you say, ‘Well, I already missed it, so what’s the harm in staying here a bit more?’ You want to get up, but you can’t seem to bring yourself to do it.”

  Vall looked at him with a blank look on his face, frozen still. He didn’t respond for a long time, nor did he meet Morgan’s eyes. Then, at last, he looked down. “I am worthless, I can’t do anything. Ves was out there raising her level, ascending as we have always dreamed about, and I am stuck here. Without a hand.”

  Morgan narrowed his eyes at Vall. Something about what he had just said struck a chord with him. “This isn’t about your hand,” Morgan said on a hunch.

  Now Vall looked up to meet Morgan’s eyes.

  “This is about being left behind,” Morgan said. “You are worried that by the time you get a replacement for your hand, you will be so far behind everyone else. That we will all ascend to higher levels without you. You are afraid that Ves and the rest of us will leave you behind.”

  Vall dropped his eyes. “It is the truth. I can’t ascend like this, I can’t fight,” he muttered dismally, shrugging.

  Morgan took a deep breath. “You…are an idiot.”

  Vall raised his eyes and looked at him with what looked like outrage.

  “I mean, you call me stupid and all that, but seriously?” Morgan asked angrily.

  “Do you want to get hit?” Vall asked him, a bit of his usual fire coming back into his green eyes.

  “You are my friend, Vall. Did you really think that I would let you get left behind?” Morgan said with a softer tone.

  “We haven’t really known each other for all that long,” Vall said carelessly.

  “Okay, you just took a bite out of my heart, but fine! We are friends, and you’re all depressed and shit, so I will forgive and forget. Concerning your handless problem, I have actually been thinking on it, and I might have a temporary solution,” Morgan said.

  Vall turned to look at him, interested. “What kind of a solution?”

  “I didn’t want to tell you anything until I was sure I could pull it off, but I have been experimenting a bit with my enchanting and engraving, and I think I might be able to craft you a replacement arm.”

  Vall perked up immediately, but Morgan raised a hand, forestalling any response.

  “I’m not certain I can do this, and even if I do manage to do what I am thinking about it won’t be anywhere as good as what a master could probably craft for you. But if I do manage it, I think you will be able to continue ascending, if you are being careful—and by that, I mean we will babysit you and make sure that you don’t die for a little while,” Morgan told him. “Now, I will not be going through the effort of even attempting to make this for you if you are going to remain like this, so you are going to go and take a bath, clean yourself up and then go to the training grounds and oversee the training for the new recruits. And you will keep doing this while I work on a solution, understood?”

  Vall’s expression grew both hopeful and angry at the same time, but he nodded.

  “What was that? I didn’t hear you properly.”

  “Understood,” Vall bit out through his teeth, and then after a moment added, “Guild Master.”

  “Good,” Morgan said, then walked past him to exit the room. Once he passed the doorway, he turned around. “Oh, and I almost forgot. Apologize to your sister for being an ass.”

  Before Vall could respond, Morgan had pulled the door closed behind him and was on his way down the stairs.

  INTERLUDE IV

  Korvorok sat on a rock just outside of the goblin tribe, watching the tribe members prepare their feast. The contents of their meal turned his stomach, but Korvorok was beginning to no longer care. He had seen them kill and eat sentient beings before, and this was nothing new. He had tried to teach them, to tell them that it was wrong, but they would not listen—after all, he was just a simple Goblin. Korvorok understood now the punishment that the human had laid down on him: it was this, to see his people turned into savage monsters.

  They were so primitive that Korvorok struggled to even consider them his people. But he had no choice, as he had nowhere else to go—and so he sat and watched. He had no say in the tribe, for he was one of the weakest in it. For all the strength that he had gained, the power of a Goblin Chieftain was more. Even Korvorok felt compelled to obey them. There was something in the manner of a chieftain that made it hard for other goblins to act against its orders. It was possible, but extremely hard. Korvorok suspected that it had something to do with the implants.

  So instead of trying to disobey, Korvorok followed orders. He did the same despicable things that the other goblins did, and he hated himself for doing them just as he hated the human that had sentenced him to this hell. His anger was growing daily, and every time he followed the tribe on a raid against the other races he felt it grow just a bit more. Soon enough he started hating them too, for not being willing to try and speak with the goblins, for considering them just simple monsters, even though he knew that they had cause for thinking that way.

  But the life that he lived now was pitiful, and none of his suggestions to the tribe to make it better were being taken seriously. After all, what could a simple level-five Goblin know? The Chieftain and the shamans disregarded him as a pest not worth their time.

  But Korvorok was not satisfied with just surviving like a savage. So he listened, he learned about the goblins and their culture. He learned that there were many tribes all over the world, and that each tribe was led by a Chieftain. He learned that there were even greater goblins above them: the Goblin Kings who ruled many tribes and had many Chieftains under them, and that above them stood the Goblin Overlords, who ruled vast areas of land, who were so powerful that they could stand against the strongest of the other races. They fought against Guilds and competed for territory. But his tribe was not a part of any of that—it was one of the free tribes, the ones that were not ruled by a King or an Overlord.

  And so, Korvorok thought out a plan. His hate would not allow him to stand still. He was the Great Leader of the Seventh Wandering Fleet—and he would rule!

  It took him six months to finally reach the point where he could put his plan into motion. Six months of fighting against monsters, of struggling to stay alive, of backstabbing other goblins, all so that he could get an advantage. He reached level ten and became a Goblin Great Warrior, and was an asset to the tribe. He pushed himself into the inner circle of the tribe, became the Chieftain’s right hand. And then he stabbed him in the back.

  Korvorok was not about to challenge the Chieftain to combat as such things were usually done in the tribe. He was not confident enough in his strength to fight someone as strong as the Chieftain was. So he waited for him to fall asleep, and then stabbed him through the heart. It was over quicker than Korvorok imagined, and once it was finished he picked up the Chieftain’s enchanted great sword and walked out of the tent. He announced himself to the rest of the tribe, and while there were some who were not happy with the way he had achieved supremacy, it wasn’t like they would do anything about it. Korvorok was the strongest warrior in the tribe after the Chieftain, and the others were by their nature cowardly. He was accepted as the new Chieftain quickly.

  Korvorok ascended from the experience he gained by killing his chieftain and he looked at his status screen
as it had changed once again.

  Now, he was the Goblin Chieftain.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Five days later, Morgan sat in the workshop with Titus, both of them leaning over the same table, where there lay a piece of dark wood carved in a facsimile of a hand. They had taken Vall’s measurements and a carpenter down in Reach Town had carved it for them. It looked a bit like a prosthetic arm from Earth—it even had a hollowed end for where the stump would go, although it didn’t have any kind of straps for securing it yet. They’d chosen to work with wood since it was easier to engrave and lighter than metal. They didn’t want Vall to have to haul several kilograms on his arm.

  Morgan was infusing the wood with his life energy in order to make it be able to make movements, which was a bit different than Enchanting. Infusing was just filling something with his energy, whereas Enchanting was laying that energy in a specific pattern in order to cause an effect.

  This was also their fourth hand, the first one having burned out when Vall attempted to send his energy inside. His alignment had been too volatile for the wood and it combusted. He had managed to clench a fist before it combusted, though, which was good. It meant that Morgan’s idea worked.

  They had learned a lot from the attempt; however, the other problem was that Vall’s alignment was not only fire, but also domination, meaning that his use of his energy came from his emotion. He was not suited for forms of finer control like those following the discipline alignments were. That had become apparent during their second attempt, where the hand simply broke apart from the violent energies coursing through it.

  Titus and Morgan had engraved it with fine engravings, each designed to order the wood of the hand to bend depending on how much energy was provided to it and where. Quickly, however, it became apparent that they were very inexperienced and that there was no way that Vall could control the arm that way. It would take all of his concentration to just move the arm—he wouldn’t be able to use any of his abilities in combat. He probably wouldn’t even be able to concentrate on fighting and moving the arm at the same time.

  So the third incarnation of the hand had five set positions: open fist, closed fist, and then three that were wrist movements. They had managed to create protective engravings which would protect the hand from burning up. Titus had crafted a minor protection ward which would offset the natural heat of Vall’s alignment, and then they’d had to add a small gem to it in order to power that ward but it worked. There were quite a few gems which could store energy, kind of like what ascension crystals did. Their first thought was to just add an ascension crystal, but aside from the fact that they were far too valuable, they couldn’t be recharged, which meant that they would need to be swapped out once they ran out of power. So instead, they used a small sapphire which Morgan enchanted to store energy. Vall could recharge it on his own whenever he wanted.

  The third incarnation’s test had proceeded a lot better than the others: the hand didn’t burn up, nor did it explode. It had, however, broken fingers when Vall tried to close the fist. The hand had reacted with too much force, and the fingers had just snapped off.

  So now they were working on their fourth attempt. Both of them had gained levels in Engraving, and Morgan had even gotten one in his Enchanting—it now being level VI, and his Engraving level III. They had adjusted the grip strength of the fingers by finely tuning the engravings. It was actually a really interesting skill, Morgan realized. Once he had gotten Engraving, Morgan had gained the knowledge of how to combine glyphs that were arranged into strange patterns to create an effect. He didn’t know what effect every combination of symbols did, but he knew a few basic ones. He could either experiment to learn the others, or increase his skill level and get the knowledge transferred to his head. From what Morgan had seen of this system that Oxylus had created and that governed this world, you were rewarded more by trying to do things on your own and experimenting, instead of trying to collect skill points and upgrade your skills.

  “Slowly,” Titus said as they etched the last glyph into position at the back of the wooden hand.

  “I know,” Morgan whispered.

  “You are going to go over the other glyph,” Titus warned.

  “No, I am not.”

  “Careful! You almost carved out beyond the marker.”

  “I will mess it up if you don’t shut up,” Morgan hissed.

  Titus wisely decided to stay quiet, but Morgan could feel his eyes judging him. The issue was that Morgan knew why Titus was reminding him about the marker. During their preparation stage, where they had etched the engravings into random pieces of wood to practice, Morgan had accidentally connected two glyphs without realizing it. Once they had tried channeling power into it, it had exploded, pelting them with pieces of wood.

  Morgan was still better at it than Titus, though, which was why he was the one doing it. Slowly, he finished the last glyph, and then raised the carving tools before releasing a loud sigh of relief.

  “There,” Morgan said.

  “It looks good. Now we need to test it,” Titus said with just a bit of trepidation.

  Morgan nodded. He hadn’t realized just how dangerous Enchanting and Engraving could be—but now was the moment of truth.

  “Get the sword,” Morgan said.

  Titus turned around and recovered a long sword. It wasn’t quite a two-hander like Vall usually used—more like a hand and a half—but the fact that they couldn’t make the hand have too much movement meant that Vall would be somewhat limited. They had therefore decided that he would need to learn to fight with a slightly different weapon. He wouldn’t have much wrist movement, but he did have half of his forearm, so he would be able to turn the hand. It would take a while for him to get accustomed to it, but they figured it was better than nothing.

  Titus offered Morgan the sword, put their new creation over the handle, and then channeled a bit of his power into one of the four engravings. The hand curled around it and held tightly. Morgan waited for a moment, watching the hand for any signs of something being wrong. Since nothing happened, he channeled again into the second engraving and the wrist moved to the left. Again he waited for a moment before sending energy to the third engraving—the hand returned to the original straight position. Morgan then used the fourth one and the wrist moved to the right.

  “Looks good!” Titus cheered.

  Morgan grinned at the tall lithe man. “One more.” He channeled his energy into the last engraving and the hand opened up.

  Morgan closed his eyes and savored the success, taking a last look at the finished product. It looked like what it was—a carved hand, if Morgan was being honest–made out of dark wood with strange glyphs engraved all over it. Beyond the wrist and closer to the forearm it had a single sapphire gem that was inlaid into the wood. Morgan had used his nature alignment to create the indent and then have it close over the gem. Five days of tireless work had just paid off. The two of them had been stuck inside this room basically from sunup to sundown.

  All that was left was the final touch. He reached over to the leather straps already prepared and attached them by using his energy manipulation to force the wood to move around, letting him push them through. With that done, he turned to look at Titus.

  “Let’s go show it to Vall,” Morgan said. That would be the real test.

  The two of them left their workshop, squinting as they were immediately blinded by the light.

  “Goddamn freaking sun,” Morgan cursed. “Ahhhh!”

  Titus was similarly displeased next to him, but quickly the two recovered and started walking toward the training grounds. The people walking around them gave them strange looks but didn’t comment. I swear the first thing I am doing once I have some time is inventing sunglasses. This freaking sun is at least ten times brighter than the sun on Earth! Morgan grumbled to himself.

  They reached the training grounds and entered. Immediately, Morgan saw Clara and Ves sparring lightly to the side. Morgan winced as he s
aw them; he had barely spoken with Ves the last few days as he and Titus had worked—but she had been busy too. She had even arrived to their bedroom after him a few times. Close to them was the Sky Guard group training with the new recruits, and Vall standing near them, watching.

  Vall looked far different now relative to how he had appeared when Morgan had confronted him in his room. He had shaved, cut his hair a bit and, most importantly, bathed. He at least looked presentable now, and he no longer had bags under his eyes. Frankly, he seemed to feel better. Morgan’s talk with him had made a difference, and Morgan was glad for it. Vallsorim had been one of the first people he had met on this world. He was his friend, and Morgan didn’t like seeing him like that. It reminded him too much of the times he himself had retreated into his room and much similar state.

  Morgan and Titus made their way toward him. Vall noticed him and turned around to look at the two with a hopeful look in his eyes.

  “We got it,” Morgan said as he extended the artificial hand to him.

  Vall swallowed hard, then raised his stump and Morgan put the wooden hand over it. He then helped him secure it over his forearm with the first ring of straps, tightening it, and then did the same for the second ring that went around his arm after his elbow for added security. It would be a bit awkward for a while until he got used to it, but it worked.

  Vall looked at the hand and then it moved as he channeled his energy into it. He cycled through all the movements, and then Titus offered him the sword he’d brought with him from the workshop. Vall took it in his real right hand and then clasped it with his new one. A look of concentration grew on his face as he used the wrist movement to raise it up and then swing it down. It worked, and Vallsorim looked at the sword and the new hand for a long moment. Then he turned to look at Morgan.

  “I don’t know how to express the depth of my gratitude,” Vall said simply.