Chapter Eighty-Two: The Goblin’s Account, Part Two

Not long after, the boss and the mechanical octopus returned. Judging by their appearance, they hadn’t suffered any injuries.

Early the next morning, we were asked to help them craft some special weapons and equipment. Only then did I realize—the boss was actually a mage!

A mage! Such a noble figure—were there any in the Goblin Kingdom? I pondered for a long time but could only recall the shamans in our tribe. They didn’t seem worthy of the title “mage.”

Watching the boss conjure flames from his hands, shaping bronze into every imaginable form, and then carving magic circles onto weapons and armor, we were all exhilarated. With such a powerful leader, the future of our tribe seemed limitless.

We worked the entire day. By nightfall, the boss and the mechanical octopus were both clad in specially made vine armor, studded with bronze plates inscribed with magic circles. Supposedly, this would effectively fend off the attacks of the undead.

That night, the boss and the octopus ventured into the valley once more. We simply couldn’t understand such a reckless act.

My lord, even those who seek death wouldn’t do so this way! Night grants the undead even greater power—do you not understand?

Alas, at the time I thought, no matter how capable the boss was, he wouldn’t live long. My dreams of becoming a warrior were shattered before they’d even begun.

The battle that night was fierce beyond words. Even from outside the valley, I could hear the undead’s ear-piercing howls. Then, all fell silent...

By morning, the boss and the mechanical octopus had still not returned. We all assumed the boss had perished in battle, but under the watchful gaze of that gray wolf, none of us dared to act out. We could only continue building the camp as the boss had instructed.

The second night passed, and still there was no sign of the boss. By the third morning, everyone’s thoughts began to wander. People started slacking off, thinking of ways to escape.

At noon, a fierce mechanical dog burst in from outside. It seemed to recognize the gray wolf; the two beasts exchanged a few words, and then the mechanical dog charged into the valley. Another one off to its doom, we thought.

So another day and two nights passed. The boss did not return, nor did the mechanical dog. By this point, everyone was convinced the tribe was finished. We began to secretly scavenge the camp for anything useful in preparation for our escape.

But before we could make our move, a group of barbarians arrived, escorting a caravan. Other than a single Medusa, the caravan was comprised entirely of goblins, led by an ugly goblin woman.

Except for the more depraved among us, most looked down on these northern goblin women.

But to my astonishment, this woman was a noble—someone whose status surpassed our imagination.

The new group of goblins, also prisoners of this war like us, had come under her complete command.

Because of her arrival, the camp finally settled down, and everyone abandoned thoughts of fleeing.

We treated the barbarian warriors to the last of our roasted mountain goat. Afterward, they departed.

Once they were gone, the noblewoman told us to have faith in the boss—he was a great warrior and would soon return with spoils of war, at which point the Flowering Tribe would become incredibly powerful.

Hearing her words, whatever our private doubts, everyone behaved and worked diligently.

Another day and night passed. Then, there was a commotion from the valley. Curiosity drew us all to the camp gates to see what was happening.

After a while, I saw a mechanical puppet dragging a cart loaded with supplies out of the valley. Behind it followed the big-headed mechanical octopus and the mechanical dog, and this time, there was a giant spider in the group as well.

Though I’d heard tales before, seeing such a heavily armed mechanical puppet in person was terrifying—I was afraid its massive crossbow would turn on me.

At that moment, the noblewoman announced, “The boss has returned! Line up and get ready to welcome him!”

When the puppet reached the center of the camp, its hatch opened—and the boss leapt out.

On the little cart was a stone pillar, covered in carvings of all manner of deathly creatures, exuding an eerie aura—clearly an artifact of the undead.

By the Water God! He had truly annihilated all the undead in the valley. What unimaginable power that must have taken!

And that giant flower-backed spider—my gods, a formidable magical beast, rare even in the royal army, now tamed by our boss.

With the boss’s return, the tribe was ecstatic. No one doubted his strength or the tribe’s future any longer.

That very day, everyone was mobilized to clean up the valley and the camp within.

With the undead gone, life slowly returned to the valley. Despite the cold, it was a pleasant place.

The big-headed mechanical octopus, though intimidating, proved invaluable in its work. Under its direction, we quickly restored order to the valley and moved into the camp inside.

To my surprise, each of us was assigned a wooden house. They weren’t large, but comfortable enough.

I was moved when I learned the boss had heard my name was unpleasant and gave me a new one: Grant, meaning “bestowed.” And so, I became Grant Flowering, a warrior of the Flowering Tribe.

The boss was truly good to us, but he insisted we bathe every day, using a yellow, oily little bar that produced mountains of bubbles.

Though the smell vanished after bathing, as goblins, it felt unnatural. Can a goblin be a goblin without its scent?

That wasn’t all. The boss dug a large pit at the camp’s edge, built a strange wooden structure over it, and called it a “latrine.” He ordered that all of us relieve ourselves there—or the mechanical octopus would whip us.

Heavens! Even in the capital, people simply went wherever they pleased. Here, we were expected to use a designated toilet.

We protested—only to be beaten soundly by the octopus. Two fellows were caught sneaking off and each received ten lashes on their behinds.

In fact, I too had gone outside that day, but luckily wasn’t caught. After seeing those two unable to get out of bed for days, I never dared try again. I went to the latrine dutifully.

Once the camp was in order, training began.

Unlike training in the Goblin Kingdom, the boss had us practice something called “drill,” where we had to stand perfectly still, and anyone who moved received a whipping.

We’d never been subjected to such torment. The first day, everyone was lashed many times. Thankfully, the boss provided us with an ointment that soothed the pain.

Thus, our mornings were spent drilling, and our afternoons fixing up the mercury mine. The flower-backed spider had moved into the cave, supposedly to guard an important warehouse.

We were all warned: without permission, we were forbidden from passing through the tunnel at the bottom of the mine. If the spider found us, it would bite us to death.

Given the daily whippings for the latrine and the drills, none of us dared break the rules. Fortunately, the good food each day was some consolation to my suffering heart.

After five days of this, the boss declared us basically qualified and announced he would soon issue us weapons...