Chapter 131: The Goblin Army

The first thing to claw its way out of the oppressive darkness was a figure so massive its very presence was suffocating.

With each heavy footfall, the cavern floor trembled, sending tremors through the stone that rattled the teeth of the assembled elves. It stood at least five meters tall, a monolithic beast that towered even over Sradlan, the Frost Troll leader Celeste and her party had fought earlier.

Its body was a mountain of thick, white fur that looked as though it were spun from the ice of a glacier itself. Two colossal tusks, like polished ivory, jutted from its lower jaw, their tips gleaming with a chilling, ominous light. A tattered piece of animal hide wrapped around its waist was the only thing that distinguished it from a primordial beast of the wild.

A wave of biting cold, a raw essence carried from the farthest northern ice fields, washed over them. It was more than a mere drop in temperature; it was a physical pressure that sought to invade their bodies and freeze their very souls.

[Noinam Lv.??? | Yeti · Leader]

“It’s a Yeti!” an Elven Ranger cried out, his voice cracking with disbelief. “The King of the Snowy Mountains from the northern legends!”

Yetis were among the oldest and most enigmatic creatures of the North. They were known for their volatile tempers, their immense physical strength, and an innate, terrifying mastery over the element of frost. A single adult Yeti was a nightmare for a fully armed military unit, but the creature before them—in both sheer size and the crushing weight of its aura—far surpassed any specimen recorded in the archives.

This was a Yeti Lord, an ancient being that had lorded over its domain for countless, untold years.

“Roar—!!!”

Noinam bellowed at the cavern ceiling, and a visible torrent of white, frigid air erupted from its massive maw. The roar solidified into a tangible sonic wave, slamming into the shield wall at the forefront of the Elven army.

The ground beneath the front-line knights fractured into spiderwebs of cracks. The tower shields in their hands, each engraved with the sacred emblem of the Moon Goddess, vibrated so violently they emitted a groaning shriek, as if the metal itself was on the verge of collapse. Several of the knights were shaken so badly that blood surged into their throats, and they nearly buckled to one knee under the assault.

Celeste stared at the colossal Yeti, an involuntary shiver tracing a path down her spine.

‘Another triple-question-mark boss!’she thought, her gamer instincts screaming.’This guy’s aura is even stronger than that Frost Troll leader, Sradlan! Just standing there, it’s like an immovable iceberg.’

“Sister, this thing looks so fierce,” Selene murmured, her grip tightening on her shield. Her expression was one of unmatched solemnity. “It feels even harder to deal with than that troll from before.”

“Be careful,” Su Wan warned, her voice low and steady. The cold energy at her fingertips had already condensed into shimmering, crystalline motes of ice, ready to be unleashed at a moment’s notice. “Its frost attacks are bound to be powerful.”

But this was only the beginning.

Immediately after the Yeti’s appearance, a second dark shadow stepped out from behind the throne. This one was a slender man, clad in a well-tailored black suit. He walked with a calm, elegant pace, his demeanor more suited to a high-society dinner party than a bloody, subterranean battlefield.

In one hand, he carried an exquisite silver lantern, within which a ball of eerie, green flame danced and swayed. He had silky black hair that framed a face that could only be described as handsome, though his skin was a deathly, unnerving pale, like the master of an ancient castle who hadn’t felt the touch of the sun in centuries.

A thick, suffocating miasma of decay and plague radiated from him. Wherever he passed, even the hardy, fluorescent moss clinging to the cavern walls withered and turned black in an instant.

He lifted his head, and as two points of malevolent green soulfire flickered to life in the depths of his eyes, Eldara’s scarlet gaze constricted into pinpricks.

“The Plague Messenger… Noth!”

Eldara squeezed the name through her gritted teeth, her voice laced with a deep, deep apprehension.

‘What the heck?’The spirit of snark in Celeste’s mind, ever-present, was now burning with the intensity of a supernova.’Is this boss’s art style completely off? We’ve got an ugly-as-sin Goblin, a big fuzzy Yeti, and now some yandere-type pretty-boy undead? Is this some kind of villain boy band? One’s in charge of comedy, one’s the cute mascot, and this one’s the designated eye candy?’

“Commander, do you know him?” one of the knights asked Eldara.

“Know him?” Eldara’s voice was bone-chillingly cold. “In the command structure of the Undead Scourge, Noth is one of the Legion Commanders overseeing plague and curses. His status is far, far above that of Mogras!”

She paused, letting the weight of her words sink in. “Do not be deceived by his appearance. What he excels at most is the creation and dissemination of all manner of vicious plagues. Creatures infected by his pestilence die in excruciating agony, only to be reanimated as the most loyal undead servants under his command. He is a walking cataclysm, a living, breathing source of plague!”

Eldara’s explanation fell upon the Elven army like a bucket of ice water, extinguishing the last embers of their fighting spirit. An Undead Legion Commander whose rank was far superior to Mogras…

This meant that the man before them, who looked more like a melancholic poet than a harbinger of death, was likely on the same level of power as Eldara herself.

Celeste immediately checked his stats.

[Noth Lv.??? | Necromancer · Lord]

Another triple-question-mark.

“Hahahaha! It seems there are still people with good taste in my dear Queen’s retinue!” Girousse, the Goblin King, cackled with triumph. “It took a great deal of effort for me to ‘persuade’ Lord Noth to join my ranks! His plagues are one of my favorite works of art!”

Before anyone could recover from that shock, a third massive, dark shadow stomped forward, its heavy steps shaking the very foundations of the cavern.

It was a Frost Troll, easily over four meters tall. Its skin was the deep, unforgiving blue of a glacier’s heart, and its body was covered in ferocious bone spurs made of jagged ice crystals. In its hand, it clutched a crudely crafted metal maul that radiated a cold even more violent and primal than that of the Yeti Lord.

[Korlak Lv.??? | Frost Troll · Warlord]

The third triple-question-mark boss.

The King of the Snowy Mountains, the Plague Messenger, the Frost Troll Warlord. Three powerful entities, any one of which could trigger a regional disaster if it appeared alone, were all standing here as subordinates to this one goblin.

Celeste felt her scalp tingle.

‘This is huge trouble…’she thought, her mind racing.’What in the world is this goblin’s background? How could he possibly subdue three monsters of this caliber? Does he really have some kind of protagonist-level kingly aura? The kind where he just flexes and powerhouses from all over flock to bow down to him? That’s just too ridiculous!'”How about it, my dear Queen?” Girousse spread his arms wide, like a child proudly showing off his collection of toys. “Are you satisfied with my three’Generals’?”

He leaned forward, his words dripping with undisguised mockery. “With them, and with me added to the mix, do you truly believe your measly little army still has any chance of winning?”

For the first time, the silver radiance surrounding Queen Elaniel dimmed for a fraction of a second. Within her perpetually calm, wine-red eyes, a monstrous wave of emotion finally rose. She had anticipated that the master of this secret realm would be a difficult opponent, but she had never dreamed she would be facing a situation this absurd.

The enemy before them was no longer a problem that could be solved with an army. These were three Lord-level monsters, plus a mysterious and utterly unfathomable Goblin King.

This lineup was powerful enough to trample a small northern country into dust.

“And it’s not over yet!” Girousse cackled, as if he felt the shock wasn’t quite potent enough. He stomped his foot violently, and the entire cavern shook with a furious tremor.

“My children! Come out and welcome your future mistress!”

As his voice fell, a dense, tide-like roar of countless footsteps and guttural snarls echoed from the depths of the dark caves behind him.

Countless pairs of eyes, glowing with all manner of colored light, ignited in the darkness, converging into an endless, terrifying sea of stars.

Undead. Trolls. Yetis.

Thousands upon thousands of monsters, like a dam bursting, swarmed out from the blackness.

Amidst the horde, Celeste even spotted a few familiar figures. There was Ghost Blade, the wraith who wielded dual blades with uncanny, phantom-like movements. There was The Witherer, the skeletal mage who clutched a grimoire. When she had last seen him, he was Mogras’s second-in-command. Now, he was just an inconspicuous, low-ranking officer lost within this massive, monstrous legion.

“My goodness…” Selene stared at the black, seemingly endless army of monsters, subconsciously swallowing hard. “How… how many are there? Did we just poke a monster’s nest?”

The state of the battle had reversed in an instant.

The Elven army, which had originally held a clear numerical advantage, now seemed terrifyingly small and thin in the face of the monster frenzy.

[Elysian’s Note:

Having a good time with the story?

Every single bit helps immensely:

Thanks a ton for making this journey possible!]