First Alliance War (4): A Single Strike
Talos's single punch shot out, landing a direct hit on the ogre's head.
Per-eok!! Unlike the ogre's barrage of blows, no shockwave erupted. There was only the sound of something bursting.
"My god…."
Those watching the scene couldn't help but gasp in horror. The ogre's head—once so formidable—had vanished in a single strike. In its place, Talos's fist remained embedded.
The headless ogre collapsed backward, limp as a towering tree felled by an axe.
"Unbelievable…."
The Knight King could only mutter in shock. He forgot to command the others, transfixed by the clash of titans.
The frozen atmosphere shattered when Talos—the one who had pulverized the ogre's skull—moved again. He scooped up the ogre's corpse from the ground and gazed quietly at the sky.
Then, a dazzling light poured down from the heavens, enveloping Talos and the body he held.
After a brief moment, the pillar of blinding light slowly faded. Nothing remained in its wake—save for the scattered blood and flesh of the ogre, proof that the battle had been real.
A headless body inevitably loses its life. The same held true even for vast hordes.
With the ogre—the king of goblins and orcs—dead, the goblins sensed the invisible leash binding them loosen by a strand. The ogre's disappearance weakened their dominion instantly.
Of course, orcs and hobgoblins—the ruling class—still remained, and goblin chieftains along with orcs tried to regain control amid the chaos….
Pee-ying!
"Kieek!"
An arrow whistled from somewhere, piercing a head clean through. Orcs managed to block elven arrows and survive, but lizardmen charged at the survivors with eyes ablaze.
Soon enough, few controllers of the goblins remained.
Having lost their mighty head—the ogre—and their spine of orcs and goblin chieftains, the goblin kingdom crumbled in an instant.
The now-free goblins scattered in all directions, fleeing for their lives.
Thus, the war against the greenskins drew to a close—for the moment. But it wasn't over yet.
Wars always demand cleanup. Those who had suffered goblin neglect firsthand moved to ensure not a single one escaped.
The elves and Bistia's beastkin shone brightest here; their keen senses were perfect for sniffing out hidden goblins.
Elven hunters distinguished fleeing goblin footsteps with sharp ears, loosing arrows infused with wind spirits for unerring precision.
Slower than mounted knights but far swifter than infantry, Bistia's beastkin pursued with noses, eyes, and senses honed to a razor's edge.
Ratkin from Ratkinia rivaled them in acuity, but burdened by massive shields, they lacked the agility—limited to rooting out and slaying goblins in narrow caves.
Only after the horde's stragglers were hunted down did the war truly end.
The first war fought by a coalition of races and nations—later called the First Alliance War—brought sweeping changes.
First, attitudes toward goblins shifted. Once dismissed as mangy pests no better than wild dogs, they were now seen differently.
Goblins. Hobgoblins. Orcs. Ogres.
Who could have guessed such vermin, gathered in numbers, could grow so strong? From then on, any trace or sighting meant immediate hunts; goblins became marked as dire threats.
Some still bred in unreachable wilds untouched by human hands, but hobgoblins—or worse, orcs—prompted local lords to muster troops for extermination.
Another change struck the mages. To those wielding mana for spells, goblins proved invaluable study subjects.
Monsters mutated and evolved by mana. At evolution's end, they wielded it in environment-adapted ways—unique goblins.
Goblin shamans especially captivated mages.
'Is mana limited to basic elements like fire or ice?'
'How did that goblin shaman control death's aura with mana, reanimating dead goblins?'
'Doesn't mana hold more uses than we imagined?'
Such debates raged among Procyon's mages.
What could mana achieve? Endless potential, perhaps?
Mages clustered and splintered by philosophy, eventually forming factions.
Some claimed mana's essence lay in mastering worldly elements.
Others, like Arcadia's founding king, believed in taming monsters with it.
Some argued bodily mana could forge unbreakable flesh.
Others trusted it for healing, akin to Life Church miracles.
Scrolls and mana could democratize magic, said some.
Seizing objects to bend them at will, insisted others.
Like goblin shamans, animating corpses—possible for us too.
And comprehending world's mana to prophesy its flow.
Thus divided, they banded for research. Mages, once bound to innate spells, delved into mana's roots—escaping primitive magic for theorized arcane theory.
Next, changes among knights.
Knights—more precisely, cavalry. Vassals to the Knight King, ruling lords over lands and folk.
They lacked the classic image: no heavy plate, no cumbersome armor ill-suited to mounts.
But they had seen it. Witnessed the black knight.
Forged of black stone. Unshakable guardian.
Indomitable Talos.
Soon, sturdy armor swept knightly fashion. Full suits were rare luxuries, so metal reinforced vital spots at most.
Other races? No grand shifts. Just deeper goblin hatred—smashing any sighted—and budding curiosity toward others.
Shared tongue and Pantheon faith turned distant neighbors into tentative allies.
Finally, the Life Church's transformation.
Post-war, one revelation descended:
"This aid marks the end. No more direct intervention on the surface. The coming age belongs to this world's dwellers—the gods' era long ended. No deity shall tread this land."
Frankly, it was a huge relief. No, really—after all those goblin warnings! Humans' fault for sloppy work!
Hands off the surface now! Just watching! No gods walking the earth! Ah, Talos doesn't count—he's not a god. Just on vacation.
Not total inaction, mind. Prayers? Answered properly.
Asherat's underworld sails smooth, Life Church thrives sans issue. No troublesome gods, most exert indirect influence for faith. Goblin crisis resolved!
Time to truly step back! Spectate leisurely!!!
So annoying now! Doing nothing!
That's what they should think!!
The church, of course, erupted in uproar upon receiving it.
Whatever. I'm resting. Playing. Doing zilch. From now on, call me the hikikomori goddess!
