Chapter 133: For Tud’or!
It was late at night, and the full moon shone brightly over the village gates, bathing the wooden walls and battlements in pale silver light. The usual sounds of an evening in Ashmork were absent. There were no drunken arguments between warriors, no children running through the streets, and no laughter coming from the homes scattered throughout the settlement.
Even the guards stationed along the walls seemed unusually quiet, their gazes lowered as if they were afraid to look at one another.
Near the southern gate, Loki stood motionless, his expression cold and frighteningly still. His finger was buried deep into his palm, his nails stabbing so hard into his flesh that blood slowly dripped between his fingers and fell onto the ground beneath him. He barely seemed to notice the pain. His entire body trembled with restrained rage, his shoulders rising and falling with each heavy breath as he stared into the darkness beyond the gate.
Molu approached him and placed a hand upon his shoulder, causing Loki’s frown to deepen as his body trembled even harder.
The young hobgoblin’s eyes remained fixed upon the forest where the twenty hunting teams had disappeared earlier that day. Of the twenty teams they had sent out, only five had returned in one piece, and even those five had barely managed to make it back alive.
Each had brought back two or three cows, with the total coming to thirteen. Thirteen cows for a village of roughly two hundred people. It was not much, but it was enough to keep them fed for roughly two weeks if the meat was carefully rationed, and those two weeks might be enough to buy them time until Tulin’s army returned from the western region.
That should have been something worth celebrating. Instead, the thirteen cows standing inside the village felt almost like an insult. Seventy five goblins had been lost tonight, and not even their bodies had been recovered. They had disappeared somewhere within the southern forest, leaving their families with nothing but uncertainty and grief.
The mood throughout the entire colony was heavy. The returning hunters had barely spoken after entering through the gates, and those who had relatives among the missing had gathered around them, desperately asking questions that the survivors could not answer.
Even hunger seemed to have disappeared from the village. The smell of freshly butchered cattle should have drawn everyone toward the communal cooking fires, but few had the appetite to eat.
In just a few days, Ashmork had lost more than it had ever suffered in decades of conflict. The Vaal’kor colony to the south, which they had once assumed would be an easy target for their mighty army, had cost them more than two hundred lives. Nearly half of Ashmork’s entire population had been lost because of a single enemy they had initially considered insignificant.
“There is nothing that can be done. Let it go for now, we will get our chance soon.” Molu said quietly, his hand still resting on Loki’s shoulder.
Loki’s jaw tightened before he shrugged Molu’s hand off with annoyance written all over his expression. He did not say anything. There was nothing he could say that would change what had happened, and Molu knew better than to provoke him while his anger was still so close to the surface.
The young hobgoblin simply turned around and walked toward the village, his fists still clenched at his sides. Molu watched him leave with a light sigh. It was already shocking that Loki had managed to show enough restraint not to charge into the forest in search of revenge, especially considering the number of people they had lost. If being slightly rude was the price of keeping him from throwing away his own life, Molu was more than willing to tolerate it.
While the Ashmork village mourned their dead, Ka’z’s team was having a feast around their campfire with one of the cows they had taken from a hunting party they killed. The contrast between the two sides could not have been greater.
Several large chunks of spiced meat had been cut from the animal and placed onto sharpened sticks before being positioned around the intense flames. Fat dripped onto the burning wood, producing a loud hiss and filling the surrounding forest with the rich smell of roasting meat.
The kobolds gathered around the fire shouted and cheered whenever someone managed to turn their piece at just the right moment, while others argued over which part of the animal tasted better. After three days of constant fighting and hunting, they had earned the opportunity to finally eat until they were satisfied, and unlike the Ashmork goblins, they had no reason to hold back.
Ka’z, as usual, sat slightly away from the others with his back resting against a tree, his attention focused on the System information floating before his eyes.
[New Quest: Destroy the Ashmork Clan]
[Sub Mission Completed: Compromise their food source]
[Reward: 100sp]
[Sub Mission Completed: Destroy the Ashmork Clan Livestock and Grain Storage within the Village]
[New Sub Mission Completed: Pick Off The Ashmork Hunting Parties]
[Description: With nothing to eat, the Ashmork Clan will be forced to send out multiple hunting parties to catch some of the released livestock. Pick them off and cut down their fighting force greatly before the final confrontation.]
[Hunting Squad: 15/10]
[Reward: Sacrificial Magic Origin Script: Poppet]
[Description: Preparing a doll representation of a target, the user can directly harm the target by attacking the doll. Whatever damage done to the doll is replicated on the target.]
[Requirements: A piece of hair from the target and two drops of their blood is needed during the doll creation to establish a link between the doll and target.]
Ka’z stared at the reward for several seconds, his brows slowly rising as he read the description again. The concept immediately caught his attention. A spell that allowed him to harm someone from a distance by attacking a doll was already frightening enough, but what intrigued him more was the name given to the reward.
“Origin scripts… What’s that?” Ka’z couldn’t help but mutter.
[Origin Scripts are long lost treasures carrying original spells used by the first Magus’s who first roamed Athedal. Spells gotten from Origin Scripts are so powerful they are considered national treasures to any kingdom or empire that can get their hands on them.]
Ka’z’s expression changed slightly. He had expected the System to reward him with useful abilities, but something considered a national treasure by entire kingdoms and empires was clearly on an entirely different level.
“Then how the hell am I getting something so precious as a reward?” Ka’z couldn’t help but ask.
[Because the kobold race at its golden age possessed two of these Origin Scripts but eventually lost them to greedy humans. However, the Greater Kobold has memories of the content of these scripts and has preserved their information and will now pass it down to you to serve as the foundation of the Kingdom you plan to build.]
Ka’z slowly leaned back against the tree and calmly nodded. That explanation made sense. His gaze shifted toward the final mission waiting before him.
[New Sub-mission Acquired: Attack And Destroy The Ashmork Clan]
[Completion Requirements:]
[Kill the Chieftain, Tribal heads & Chief Shaman]
[Steal the Red Scripture]
[Burn down the entire village]
[Reward: Origin Script: Blood Magic: Blood Sea]
[Mission Begins In Twenty-four Hours]
Ka’z stared at the final reward for a few seconds before a small smile slowly appeared on his face. He had already been planning to destroy Ashmork, but the System had somehow managed to make the prospect even more appealing.
“Now that’s how you motivate someone.” Ka’z rubbed his chin with a small smile.
He raised his head and looked toward the moon above. Its pale light filtered through the sparse branches and illuminated the surrounding forest.
“Captain, meal is ready. Come and eat while it’s still hot!” Thrak called out from beside the fire, and Ka’z raised his head toward the group.
He nodded briefly before getting up and walking over to them, joining the others around the flames. Mi’ya immediately handed him a large chunk of meat still attached to the stick she had been roasting it on.
Her fingers remained on the stick for a moment longer than necessary as she stared directly into his eyes, almost as though waiting for him to acknowledge her. Ka’z simply ignored the gaze and took the meat by the stick before pulling it toward himself. Mi’ya’s expression twitched slightly, but she said nothing and returned her attention to her own food.
Ka’z stared at the meat for a while, seemingly more interested in inspecting it than eating it, before finally raising his face. He immediately noticed that everyone was staring at him.
“Is there a problem?” Gruk asked, tilting his head slightly.
“Or did you get something new?” Thrak asked eagerly, his eyes lighting up with curiosity.
Ka’z simply shook his head. He did not feel like explaining the Origin Script yet. Instead, he raised his face toward the others and spoke calmly.
“We will be attacking the village tomorrow. We can finally put an end to all of this, avenge our dead and go home.”
Several pairs of eyes widened immediately. The atmosphere around the fire changed as the words sank in. They had spent days fighting, hunting and killing, and although every member of the group understood why they had done it, none of them wanted the conflict to continue forever.
The thought that they would finally be able to return to Vaal’kor and see the people they had fought so hard to protect brought a mixture of excitement and relief to their faces.
Drak was the first to raise his stick.
“For Tud’or!” He cried out, his voice carrying across the forest.
Everyone immediately raised their sticks, their expressions becoming fierce as the memory of the old kobold warrior who had sacrificed himself against Grash filled their minds. Ka’z raised his own stick with them, his gaze briefly becoming distant as he remembered Tud’or’s final moments and everything the old warrior had done for Vaal’kor.
“FOR TUD’OR!!!!” they cheered, their voices rising together beneath the light of the full moon.