As Lucas surveyed the dungeon from the high platforms, he couldn’t help but feel a surge of accomplishment. His vision was finally taking shape—what had once been a mere idea was now a reality. The dungeon had grown far beyond what it was when he first arrived, its defenses fortified, and its capabilities enhanced. The automatons, now far more numerous and formidable, were more than ready for any challenge. The goblins, once unruly and chaotic, had learned to work under his leadership. They willingly offered their tributes, understanding the value of their allegiance. Lucas’s creations had become a force to be reckoned with, and his dungeon had transformed from a shelter into a well-oiled machine.

The weapons stored in the armory were now of a much higher quality than when the goblins had first arrived. While they were not the finest weapons in the world, they were leagues ahead of the crude tools the goblins had once used. Lucas had worked hard to improve them, ensuring that his forces were well-equipped for any battle that might arise.

As he ran his fingers over the edge of one of the old, worn weapons, a thought crossed Lucas’s mind. Why did the goblins attack me in the first place? The initial confrontation had left a deep mark on him, and the memory of the goblins' ferocity still lingered. The goblins he commanded now were different—subdued, loyal, and cooperative—but those first attackers had been far more savage. What had caused that violent outburst?

His thoughts were interrupted by the sight of the old weapons that once belonged to the goblins. They were crude, made from bones and sharpened stones, the remnants of their primitive ways. But there, among the collection, he noticed something that caught his eye—a set of weapons far more advanced than anything the goblins had ever crafted.

Lucas’s curiosity turned to suspicion as he examined the weapons in detail. They were different—cleaner, sharper, and much more dangerous. There was something eerily familiar about them.

He suddenly realized where he had seen such weapons before. They were the weapons of the Lake Drifters, a notorious group that had been a constant thorn in the side of the goblins. They were ruthless, feared by all who lived in the surrounding areas. Lucas had heard rumors about them before, but never had he expected to find their weapons here, in his very dungeon.

With a furrowed brow, Lucas ordered one of the automatons to fetch Gobu. It was time to get some answers.

Moments later, Gobu entered the chamber, bowing respectfully to the automaton that had summoned him. His usual confidence seemed tempered with a hint of unease. The tension in the air was palpable.

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"You asked for me, Master?" Gobu inquired, his voice steady but cautious.

Lucas nodded, his gaze fixed on the weapons in the automaton's hands. He spoke through another automaton, the one he had trained to communicate for him. "These weapons—do you recognize them?"

Gobu turned his gaze toward the weapons being presented before him. His eyes narrowed as he carefully inspected them, his expression betraying a mix of recognition and discomfort.

"Master," Gobu said slowly, his voice tinged with dread, "these... belong to the Lake Drifters."

Lucas's eyes hardened. "The Lake Drifters? How were you able to get your hands on these?"

Gobu hesitated for a moment before answering, his voice dropping lower. "I—... I do not know, Master. We have never had these weapons before. They were taken from... from those who came before us. They were the ones who oppressed us, the ones who left us with nothing. But now... Master, we should not let these weapons be seen by the others."

Lucas raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

Gobu looked around nervously, lowering his voice even further. "Because, Master, these weapons... they are a symbol of our past. The Lake Drifters were the ones who forced our kind into servitude, and if the other goblins learn that we have their weapons, they will think we are allied with the Lake Drifters. They will rebel—they will believe we are betraying them, and that would lead to chaos."

Lucas absorbed Gobu’s words with growing concern. His mind raced as the implications of this discovery settled in. A rebellion was the last thing he needed right now. The goblins had already pledged their loyalty to him, and any spark of doubt could be enough to ignite a flame of dissent. He could not afford to lose control—not now, not when everything was so carefully balanced.

Lucas leaned back, his fingers steepled in thought. The goblins were already on edge, their loyalty fragile at best. He had given them protection and stability, but that could all be undone with a single misstep. If word got out that these weapons, the very tools of their former oppressors, were now in his hands—how would they view him? Would they still see him as their protector, or as a potential tyrant, a new Lake Drifter in disguise?

"I see," Lucas said after a long pause, his tone firm. "I will make sure no one else sees these weapons. We cannot risk suspicion or doubt spreading. Keep this matter quiet, Gobu. If word gets out, it could ruin everything we've built."

Gobu bowed deeply, grateful for his master’s understanding. "Of course, Master. I will make sure of it."

Lucas’s gaze lingered on the weapons for a moment longer before he turned to leave. His mind was still racing, but he knew that maintaining control of his dungeon and his forces was now even more crucial than before. The peace he had fought so hard to establish could easily slip away if he wasn't careful. The growing tension among the goblins had to be addressed, and soon.

But for now, Lucas had made his decision. The weapons of the Lake Drifters would remain hidden, their history erased from the minds of the goblins under his rule. And in the shadows, far beneath the surface, new threats were already beginning to stir.