Orcs (2)
Goblins were treated, from a human perspective, as little more than annoying pests. Small in stature, weak in strength, wielding nothing but tree branches as weapons—they were frail monsters. Hiding in the underbrush to pilfer crops or livestock in secret, that was all they amounted to: insignificant creatures.
Yet hobgoblins, the evolved form of goblins, possessed the strength of an average adult human. Still, they weren't enough of a threat to a village, and thanks to their slight intelligence, they lived in hiding to avoid detection by humans. For that reason, humans paid little mind to hobgoblin packs.
Even when the Life Church warned of the dangers of goblins gathering en masse, people didn't take it seriously. Just a bunch of bothersome goblins, nothing more. Pests that could be wiped out in an instant if one put their mind to it. That was the human perception.
Utterly complacent.
And the price of that complacency came swiftly.
"It's all in ruins."
A small village reduced to scorched earth. The remnants of what appeared to be a newly settled pioneer outpost were littered with corpses. Human corpses. Goblin corpses. A wretched scene of crows tearing into flesh from both sides.
I clicked my tongue softly, then ignited goblin corpses with flames infused with mana. The crows scattered in panic, fleeing the blaze.
The human bodies I gathered into a massive pit, then set ablaze for cremation. The sacred flames revered by humans... may the fire of the ifrit purify their souls.
Among the burning corpses were the occasional bodies of children, scattered here and there. Tiny lives that had met death before their flowers could even bloom... At the sight of those small souls lost, I felt a faint pang of regret.
I wasn't devoid of emotion, but it no longer struck with the intensity it once had.
Why is that?
Are my feelings growing numb?
Has my mind withered after so many long years?
No, my mind is fine. If the passage of time had dulled me, it would have happened ages ago. For it to happen now suggests some other cause.
If there's a problem, it's with my emotions. Though I can't pinpoint the reason...
It's not urgent right now, so I'll set it aside.
I waited until the human corpses had burned down to bones, then covered the pit with earth and erected a small gravestone to mark the burial site.
Truthfully, reviving the dead would be trivial for me... I could even turn back time...
But I pushed such thoughts aside. Reviving them would deny death itself. It would deny life—and the death I am responsible for governing.
Of course, if there were a clear purpose, it might be different. But bringing back people sacrificed to mere monsters like these... it wouldn't be right. Not without a compelling reason.
Resurrecting lives or rewinding time to undo events... better not to, unless there's true purpose.
So.
"I entrust these souls to you."
As I spoke softly to the diminutive reapers gathered to claim the human souls, they bowed to me and began guiding the spirits away.
Still.
Even if I won't revive the dead...
I'll ensure their grudge is properly avenged.
I headed toward the goblin pack that had raided the village.
About eighty goblins, eight hobgoblins, and... not an orc, but some peculiar goblin variant.
A hobgoblin slightly larger than the others was issuing commands to the goblins.
That's not an orc, then.
A different evolutionary path for hobgoblins, perhaps.
It seemed hobgoblins didn't evolve solely into orcs. Examining it closely, this goblin had considerable mana, but its body appeared frailer than an orc's.
A failed evolution?
No telling. It might possess some hidden ability. Commanding other goblins with practiced ease, as if it had done this many times before... For now, I'll call it the goblin chieftain. No need for a grandiose title like "king"—it's just a tribal leader at best.
Under the goblin chieftain's direction, the goblins were hauling food into a cave in the mountainside, using it as their nest.
Once all the goblins had entered, the goblin chieftain camouflaged the entrance with nearby bushes and branches. It glanced around, nodded, slightly parted the branches to slip inside, then adjusted the foliage to erase any trace of entry.
This goblin chieftain understands camouflage.
Physically weaker than an orc, but perhaps far more intelligent. An evolution that sacrificed brawn for brains.
That could pose a major threat to humans.
So.
"Let's settle this simply."
I approached the cave entrance and peered deep inside. The cave wasn't particularly deep—just enough to house around a hundred goblins. No other creatures, no alternate exits. Even total annihilation inside wouldn't cause issues.
The goblins had likely chosen it for safety... but that made it perfect for wiping them out.
I conjured a flammable gas with mana and pumped it deep into the cave. Nothing inside but goblins—the livestock they'd taken as food was already dead. No one to rescue.
So.
Once the cave filled with gas, I sparked a flame with mana and hurled it in.
At that instant—
BOOOOM!!!
A massive explosion rocked the sealed cave. The shockwave shook the surrounding ground. The flames didn't consume everything in one go; they fed on the goblins as fuel, raging on.
The frail goblins turned to ash in the initial blast. Hobgoblins too—even their tougher bodies couldn't withstand it.
And the goblin chieftain... it had survived the shock somehow, but flames engulfed it as it burned to death.
Hm... good.
I'd planned to dust my hands and forget it if it died cleanly, but since it's still alive...
I teleported the burning goblin chieftain out and extinguished the flames. Barely clinging to life. Its body was just a bit larger than a hobgoblin's—time for a quick inspection.
Hm...
Dissected the goblin chieftain until it died, but no real discoveries. Its brain was larger and more complex than a hobgoblin's, but that was it. Physically, just a tad bigger than a hobgoblin.
Its mana stone, attached to the heart, was slightly smaller than an orc's... but larger than a hobgoblin's.
Hm.
I pocketed the mana stone from the dead goblin chieftain, incinerated the remains, and tidied up. The cave flames had died out, and the goblin infestation seemed fully handled.
Even now, similar packs are cropping up everywhere. Time to give humans a more direct warning.
The Life Church repeatedly warned humans. Leave goblins alone at your peril. If hobgoblins band together, disaster follows.
And once reports spread of hobgoblin evolutions leading goblin packs to raid villages, many began hunting goblins.
Adventurers were assigned goblin-hunting quotas. Villages formed militias for patrols and extermination. Lords deployed soldiers for security, focusing on eradicating hobgoblins.
But it was already too late.
While humans ignored them, countless hobgoblins had gathered, merged packs, and produced orcs—or equivalents.
Orc-led goblin hordes plundered villages, ambushed merchants, and swelled their numbers with stolen food.
Orcs multiplied further, absorbing other packs, growing ever larger until...
A massive kingdom emerged, commanded by hundreds of orcs. A kingdom led by mighty orcs. No—a greenskin kingdom.
The orc king at its helm... only began changing after commanding hundreds like itself.
Unlike typical evolutions to hobgoblins or orcs, it morphed into a giant chrysalis, motionless for days.
Vast mana surged toward the orc king—from goblins and orcs under its banner.
Days later, it burst from the chrysalis.
A height rivaling giants. Strength to crush boulders barehanded. A roar that felled weak goblins unconscious.
Ogre.
That was the monster's name.
