Dragon Eye Pierces the Night Veil

It wasn't just some oversized gravestone. He'd suspected as much while searching for the other stones, but this one was playing a central role in some kind of ritual.

'Sentence magic, huh.'

The positions of the steles scattered throughout the Night Forest were no coincidence. From the moment he'd realized they held the power of sentence magic, Vulcan had wondered what role they might serve. And now it was confirmed.

"The night covers the night and hides the world? Is this dark magic too?"

Vulcan turned his head after reading the inscription on the stele, seeking agreement on the eerie ritual phrasing. Through the power connection visible only to Dragon Eye, he could see that this inscribed stele ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠initiated the ritual while the others served as conduits transmitting its power.

If this was part of dark magic, it might tie into the main scenario quest—harboring a sliver of hope.

- It's not dark magic. Both are ancient goblin spells, though.

The response was unexpected. It was goblin magic from antiquity, but not dark magic.

"So ancient goblins and demon world goblins are different, right?"

- Yeah. We call 'em ancient goblins for convenience, but they were just regular goblins who formed kingdoms back in the day. But with all the demon king descents and attempts to link the demon world to the middle realm, a ton of them fell under the demon king's banner. Adaptable little shits—they adjusted to demonic energy quick and built their own factions. That's what demon world goblins are.

"So there were goblins who didn't side with the demon king?"

- Yep. Cowards, mostly. That's why plenty bowed early to the powerful demon kings, but just as many hid away completely. Got hunted by the multi-species alliance for being monsters—and thanks to the demon world goblins siding with the kings. Early on, intelligent monsters joined the alliance too, but as the demon goblins' power grew, perceptions soured. Maybe they got cocky after a win or two, thinking they could take the demon kings solo. Got betrayed a few times, and their kingdoms got smashed—forcing tribes to scatter across the continent. That's why they're pathetic idiots now, but back then? They had power and influence rivaling any intelligent race.

In the end, everyone was about the same.

One point nagged at him, so he asked again—and out poured history not found in any human books. Tales only a dragon like Tud could share, viewing humans, near-humans, and monsters without bias.

"He wants me to investigate, so there must be something I can do here..."

Even after grasping the gist, Vulcan didn't rush off to jot down the inscriptions for Hainel. In games, those single-line tooltips or keywords often hid massive meaning. Hainel had tasked him with investigating, and if nothing turned up, just copy the text. It might relate to the ritual, but without Tud, a regular player wouldn't grasp it—so slim chance.

"Lemme see... any mechanisms...?"

He approached the stele, poking and prodding. Worst case, maybe smash the inscription or destroy it to break the ritual's core—but first, check what he could.

"Hmm."

Nothing stood out. The power still hummed after ages, but no clue how to operate it.

- No need to bother with such crude tricks. Just smash it if you've got the power.

He even asked Tud, but got a predictably draconic reply. Born with strength to pulverize barriers like this, he'd never bothered studying them. He had some interest in sentence magic for crafting, but goblin-level stuff? Beneath him. If he'd had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a body, he'd dismantle any ritual in a snap.

'Problem is, I can't.'

Vulcan pondered. How to crack this ritual? Goblin champion's longsword came to mind—if ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠he could boost it to unique or even rare, maybe neutralize the magic. But past experience said rare wasn't easy, so table it.

He scanned more, eyes drawn to one spot.

"Not demonic energy—dark attribute, right?"

No sticky, sinister demonic vibe, but a subtle dark aura permeated the stele, thickest at the base. Touching it sparked light.

"Inventory?"

Familiar reaction. He opened his inventory—there glowed the Divine Mark, the rare holy token from Tiran, like a key.

"Gah?!"

Pulling it out, black energies receded—his hand, then whole body, sucked inward.

"Damn. This instance crap..."

He'd seen it before—Onyx's Treasure Warehouse and others. Grumbling, he shook it off and scanned the new area.

"Ruins?"

Just ruins. Once a sizable goblin village, now weathered to crumbled dwarf-sized huts.

Ancient goblin hideout, probably. Dragon Eye scan: no life signs. Skeletons and rusted gear littered streets—no survivors after eons.

He scooped them—predictably junk. Options wiped, defense and durability rock-bottom after neglect. Unusable even melted.

"Damn. Figures."

No lucky breaks. Grumbling, he patrolled—no life, but undead or traps possible, so vigilant.

"Only that looks promising?"

Nothing. No survivors, loot, or magic. Gave up searching.

One spot left.

"Goblins believe in gods?"

- Gods? Kinda. These guys worship the strong. Whatever they think is toughest becomes their god—alive or dead. That's why tribes venerate different ones.

Temple-like building. Only spot humming with ritual power underground.

"Hm?"

Weird. Close, but no Divine Mark reaction. Different condition? Grimacing, one more step—

"What?"

Thought it'd need special method—instead, approaching parted the path. Invisible barrier opened just for him.

'What condition did I meet?'

Something unconscious fulfilled it. Whatever—good thing. Glancing back, he entered without hesitation.

Dragon Eye ready for traps or attacks, scanning interior.

"...?"

Footsteps halted in silence—by a statue.

"A hammer?"

Not quite. Perched on a pedestal like an idol, but real: a hammer enshrined.

'Thor or something.'

Just like Thor's hammer—tilted, embedded at an angle.

- Huh? Why's this here?

"You know what this is?"

No threat. Maybe their god's weapon? As he pondered, Tud eyed it and reacted.

- This is mine.

"Pardon? Yours, Lord Tud?"

- Yeah. Rough crafting hammer I used briefly. Dozed off mid-work, woke to it gone—thought lost. Why here?

"...This is a crafting hammer?"

Absurd. Why Tud's here? And warhammer-sized, not hand tool.

- Yup. Different sizes for jobs. Best to stick with familiar ones.

Tud puzzled too. Made for casual play-research, not fussed over lost—but here? Dozed and dropped, sure, but flew here? And displayed?

"Sure?"

- Mark I engrave only on my makes. My signature.

Doubtful at first, but verifying the artisan's unique mark convinced Vulcan. Craftsmen brand work like logos—subtle anti-forgery traits.

"Ugh!"

Could he claim it? Even rough-made by Tud—marked, so no ordinary gear. Greed spurred him.

Crackle!

Stepping up, touching—spark!

"Nngh. Rituals on it, huh."

No big damage, arm tingled like static—could grip through.

"Deeper first."

Alert said movable, but it was the barrier's core around the temple. Unknown purpose, but in goblin hideout—could collapse everything. So, explore interior more.

Deeper in, picture emerged.

"...How hard did you chuck it?"

- Huh, no idea. Was asleep.

Wall murals told all. Simple: Giant snake attacked. Goblins resisted—futile. Facing slaughter, sky-hammer crushed snake's head. Owner never came—so they worshipped hammer as god.

Strength-worshipping goblins: Tud's dropped tool became deity.

'I see.'

Vulcan smacked lips. Even sleepy toss packed power—but hammer's own might shone. Sell for big bucks? Durability low from age, but repairable—jackpot.

Salivating.

"What's that?"

One more caught eye: Book goblins clutched defending from snake. Red cover, repeated in panels—intriguing. Hainel's Secret of Life? ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Goblin soul magic skillbook?

- That?

"...?!"

Tud glanced casually—like Vulcan dumb for mural-gazing. Toward temple depths.

"Ooh."

Realizing, Vulcan bolted—confirmed Tud's sight.

Red-glowing cover book, weathering defied.

"This... Secret of Life?"

Hand on—no ritual backlash.

Rumble!

Roooar—!!!

"What!?"

Info check—earth quaked. Massive tremor from outside shook sanctuary. Roar rattled temple.