Chapter 41: The Incubus’s Decree

The dust was still dancing in the air, which created a grim ballet in the golden light.

There stood, amid the absolute wreckage, Valerius Thorne.

His white velvet coat was now turned into a canvas of scorch marks.

He brushed the soot on his coat with his aura, gaining back his pristine form.

But his face was filled with ABSOLUTE RAGE!!

’I cannot believe this!! How dare that gutter-rat... A mere Goblin!!’

He unknowingly, in a fit of rage, released his aura and shattered the marble flooring surrounding him.

His usual aristocratic composure was totally shattered.

He was strong.

Definitely stronger than the "Gutter-goblin".

But, what cost him this loss was sheer arrogance.

"Pathetic," he heard a dry, rattling voice from above.

It was none other than Arch-Lich Malacor, who floated serenely over the remains of the skirmish.

His skull-head showed no expression, but Valerius could feel a mocking smirk on his skelly head.

"HA! HA! HA!"

"Ohh! The great Valerius Thorne was brought to his knees by a gutter goblin. How delightfully ironic."

He laughed, mocking the Incubus.

"I truly have lived long enough to see it all now."

Valerius snapped his head up, his jaw tight.

"This is none of your concern, Malacor. The goblin is a rogue asset that must be contained."

"Contained?" Malacor’s laugh was like heavy tombstones grinding together.

"He did not just escape your little game, boy. He destroyed you. He took your perfect weapon and turned it against you. He rejected your generosity and spat directly in your face."

The Lich pointed a bony finger toward the bloody spot where Grik had fallen.

"That goblin has more fire in his soul than you have in your entire bloodline. And now, he is free."

"Enough! You have no right to demean me, you --!", his voice was cut-off due to the pressure released by the Arch-Lich.

"You should watch your words!" His eyes radiating unknown terror.

"The only reason I tolerate you is because you have the potential and power of the ancient Monsters."

He closed the distance between them and stared him right in his eyes.

It was a death stare.

A stare that could see right through his soul.

"You lost today, because of your arrogance. And this won’t be the last time! You were much more powerful than the Goblin, but you lost to him. He escaped and made a mockery of "Oh-so-great" Valerius!"

With a flicker of dark, necrotic energy, Malacor vanished.

He left Valerius alone in his rage and the undeniable evidence of his failure.

Valerius knelt beside the broken form of Kael the Soulless.

His elegant fingers traced the shattered black armor.

The death knight was hollow.

The dark, necrotic magic that bound the undead executioner had been entirely purged by Grik’s desperate gambit.

He had underestimated the goblin badly.

The Goblin was no longer a rebellious slave who needed a whipping, but an incomprehensible anomaly.

It was not like all goblins were useless creatures. It was his race.

You can say his birthright.

YES.

His race, which he had no control of, was being used to determine his capabilities.

"That worm will pay!"

Valerius couldn’t snap out of his rage.

His brain had turned off.

All he could see was revenge.

A repayment for the Humiliation he had suffered at the hands of that green worm.

"He is going to pay for this incident! I will tear him to shreds! I will make sure to kill him myself! With my own two hands, I will tear apart every bit of his existence!"

"Shadows!" He roared.

Three shadow hounds materialized from the darkness.

They felt dark and lifeless.

Tools meant to achieve a purpose.

"Chase him," Valerius commanded with his steel voice.

"Follow the trail of his corrupted blood. Track him! I want you to find his whereabouts ASAP."

The hounds howled as one, the sound echoing through the stone corridors.

They plunged into the tunnels, their supernatural senses easily picking up the necrotic trail left by Grik’s rotting arm.

They moved fast.

But not fast enough.

They followed the scent of his blood for miles, which led them to a massive underground river.

It flowed violently westwards. Valerius followed them behind.

’Just wait for me, little runt!’

The shadow hounds stopped at the water’s edge.

"We have lost them here, my Lord. The blood trail has washed away here," the lead tracker reported.

"These currents lead straight out to the Cinder Canyons.

They are heading to the Kingdom of Iron and Steam."

Valerius stared out at the rushing black water. His fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned a stark white.

The trail had ended. It was washed away by the tide.

"FUCK YOU!! GOBLIN!" He roared as he punched through a boulder near the river.

"Get back to the Academy," Valerius ordered. "It’s not my style, but I need to use some underhanded means to eliminate this potential threat."

Valerius decided to make his way back through the winding tunnels. He may be am elitist, but he was not stupid when it came to International Connections.

’The Kingdom of Iron and Steam does not come under the Authority of my Noble family. The Academy cannot intervene either as they need to maintain "Neutrality".’

"Tch!"

’It was a sovereign state that violently rejected Blood-Rank nobility. Those people just shake hands with every low-born prick they find "useful". Meritocracy they say.’

Marching the Forces of his family was nothing but a suicide invitation.

The Kingdom of Iron and Steam was not a roadside rubble.

They were the hub to new technological innovations.

An important resource for the whole Monster Continent.

’If I attack them, then I would be making the whole enemy of the continent.’

He stood still. He was hit with the realization.

A realization that he was played by that Goblin.

Played like a fiddle!

’That was exactly why the goblin went there. It was the one place on the continent where his garbage bloodline did not matter. It was the best place for the likes of him to grow.’

A slow, chilling smile spread across the Incubus’s face.

The goblin was clever.

Terribly clever.

But cleverness was no match for infinite resources.

That night, in the shadows of Zenith Academy’s highest, isolated spire, Valerius met with a figure cloaked entirely in darkness.

The broker from the Assassination Union was known only as "The Fixer."

He was a neutral party who arranged illicit contracts across strict borders.

"I have a target in the Forge," Valerius stated, his voice low and dripping with dangerous intent.

"And I am willing to pay whatever it takes."

The Fixer’s eyes gleamed from beneath his cowl.

"The Forge does not recognize Academy authority. You know this well."

"I am not asking for Academy assistance," Valerius replied smoothly.

"I am offering a private contract. A highly lucrative one."

He stepped closer to the shadowed broker.

"For the goblin named Grik, I want absolute termination. I require proof of death. Bring me his head or his mutated core. The reward will make your assassins wealthy beyond imagination."

The Fixer nodded slowly, pulling a piece of parchment from his robes.

"And the others in his cell?"

Valerius’s lips twisted into a cruel, possessive smile.

"They are to be brought back to me alive. Relatively unharmed."

His purple eyes gleamed with a predatory hunger.

"The scholar, Nyssa, possesses an intellect that will make a fine addition to my collection. The assassin, Kaelith, has a lethality that could prove invaluable once properly redirected. And the beast, Rolf, will make an excellent guard dog once broken."

The Fixer raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"You have specific plans for them, it seems."

"Very specific," Valerius confirmed, flexing his fingers.

"My Incubus mind magic has been sorely neglected lately. It is time for some extended practice."

The Fixer rolled up the parchment and slipped it back into his cloak.

"The bounty will be dispatched by dawn. The deadliest assassins operating within the Forge will be on their trail within the week."

As the broker vanished into the shadows without a sound, Valerius stood alone in the spire.

He looked out over the sprawling Monster Continent, his eyes fixed on the distant, smog-choked western horizon.

"Run, little goblin," Valerius whispered to the night wind.

"Enjoy your fleeting freedom. My hounds will find you."