"If I eliminate the other goblins first, the fight would be so much easier," Mark said. "I need to get the orc to run into my portal again."

Mark planned for things going wrong as well. This was probably the strongest patrol team the goblins had. If they had access to artifacts like the undead knight or the goblin mage leader from the last outpost, the fight might become a lot more difficult. Presumably, their mage would have a magical staff, but he doubted the orc would have anything special. From what he observed, the goblins absolutely disdained working with the orcs and seemed to fear them as well. They lacked trust.

After weighing the risks, Mark ordered his minions to attack. His hobgoblin lumbered towards them first, luring in the goblins with its horrible appearance. Then his orc came barreling in from behind, surprising the two hobgoblins who had come to investigate.

Its axe chopped twice and cleaved one hobgoblin into two, but couldn't break through the other's shield. And Mark's own hobgoblin was blocked by a feral goblin adorned in heavy armor. A sneer rose on the face of the goblin mage, and with both his minions tied down, the feral orc was free to stomp towards him.

Shimmering blue light emerged in front of Mark. He was betting his all on this.

The orc became wary, slowing down its movements but not quite stopping. It turned its beady eyes towards the portal and looked back at Mark. Though it suspected something, the orc still chose to advance.

But Mark timed his helmet's light ray to blind both the orc and the hobgoblin. His undead orc then slipped past its enemy, tackling the orc into the portal and immediately stepping back out. Mark closed it before the other orc could recover.

A wave of ice exploded from the goblin mage and buried everything in frost. Mark was so cold. But his undead orc barely felt a thing. It continued to slam its axe over and over into goblin-shaped chunks of ice, and all that resulted was the demise of every remaining goblin. His undead hobgoblin severed the goblin mage's head and brought its staff to him, which he could barely grip in his hands.

Congratulations! You have reached Level 12.

Vitality: 10 -> 11

Intelligence: 25 -> 27

Eventually, the frost thawed out. Blood returned to his arms and legs and Mark took a few steps on the frozen earth. "That could've gone badly," he said to his two minions. "Thank you." Without the staff of ice giving him frost resistance, he would've had to endure the biting cold for longer.

He walked over to the heavily armored goblin warrior and inspected its armor pieces. They were indeed enchanted, but since its size was so small, only this goblin could wear the items. Still, he was more than willing to reanimate it as a replacement to his hobgoblin. After all, it had managed to hold it down, and doing so actually consumed less of his mana as well. But he was still unable to reanimate both the goblin and the hobgoblin alongside the orc.

"Good enough," Mark said. A goblin warrior had much higher mobility than a hobgoblin. Once the other orc was killed, it would be more useful than having a slower guard. Its armor was powerful as well, and having the mana to raise a third goblin appealed greatly to Mark.

That made him aware of the power of enchanted gear. If he had enough items to distribute to all his minions, he could greatly increase the power of his undead army without spending excess mana. He chose a less-armored goblin warrior to carry Bruce's enchanted sword.

Mark sent his orc into the goblin camp flanked by his two new goblin warriors. Against the tide of goblins, they held, slowly grinding their way through the swarm. But with the second goblin mage slain, there was nobody truly dangerous left to face his minions. Mark was free to run away while his minions slaughtered them all.

Sword lights flashed. His goblin warrior hacked away at everything within reach, unable to easily die to small wounds. It was eventually surrounded by hobgoblins and picked apart, but took down an entire swath of enemies with it.

His orc cleaved into the goblins charging recklessly at its axe. It picked up the Sword of Ruined Light and threw it towards the other goblin warrior. Then the two of them split apart and carved a path out from the swarm. They returned to Mark carrying surface-level injuries, which were not a problem just yet.

Congratulations! You have reached Level 13.

Mark had his orc drag away the bodies of two hobgoblins. Then he dumped his free stat points.

Intelligence: 27 -> 30

This gave him the mana to finally reanimate a hobgoblin alongside the goblin warrior. Mark sent his minions back to kill off the rest of the goblins, waiting for them to return again. They failed to push him up another level. But it was enough.

After reanimating another hobgoblin with a much more intact body, Mark opened up the portal and dashed away. His undead orc and hobgoblin collided into the living orc before it even managed to step out from the portal. The two of them dragged it out to begin beating it down.

The orc remained tenacious. A scream of rage was all it could muster as it struggled to free itself. But as his goblin warrior snuck behind the monster, that scream morphed into a horrific howl. The orc slowly stood back up, undeterred by the undead clinging onto its back. It sank its axe into his hobgoblin and cleaved open a huge wound into its body. A simple back kick sent his goblin warrior flying.

It has a skill, Mark noted. Though this orc was only Level 9, it had managed to learn a skill without help from the system. His undead orc was still fighting on even terms, but the situation could change at any moment. Mark needed to make a move personally.

He crept into the shadows and waited for the opportunity to strike. While his goblin warrior moved back into the fight, Mark reanimated a third goblin and heaved it onto his shoulders.

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"If only I had more strength," he muttered. Seeing the damage escalate on his undead orc, he threw the goblin forward and lobbed a Magic Missile at the orc's eyes. Then his helmet erupted in a blast of light.

The orc, distracted by all the things coming for it, failed to spot the goblin with the enchanted sword. The Sword of Ruined Light swept from underneath and cut open the monster's pelvis. A low roar of hate and pain sounded out, but its skill was beginning to wear off.

Mark commanded his orc to wrestle the other orc to the ground again. Then his goblin warrior joined the pile, while the third goblin remained steady. It made mincemeat of the orc's lower body and climbed onto the pile with the rest of his minions, stabbing deep.

Congratulations! You have reached Level 14.

The orc eventually died, buried underneath their weight. A good victory, though Mark winced at the deep sword marks sunken into the dead orc. His strongest minion's body had accrued more injuries and this orc was no longer usable.` Fortunately, it had not died in vain: Mark had attained another level. He placed three of those points into Intelligence again and began to organize his gains.

Intelligence: 30 -> 33

The easiest minions to raise were those who were already undead. Slaying them without damaging their bodies required him to attack their soul flames, simpler than killing a living being at times. But now, all he had in his pocket plane were damaged goblin corpses to raise.

With only these minions available, Mark had to get creative. The goblin warrior remained relatively intact due to his orc blocking most of the orc's blows. It could use Bruce's sword. And he had the power to reanimate a goblin apprentice now, though the ice mage had lost its spell.

Mark made a note in his mind to try finding methods on how to create items. His pocket plane could also store materials he found to make the best gear he could. It would be convenient.

After his minions had stored away all the corpses into the pocket plane, he began getting ready to make sure the outpost was empty. His undead goblins snuffed out many torches in the area. Then they approached the quiet outpost stealthily.

Most of the houses remained silent even as his minions broke in and looted the place. They uncovered a few packages of meat similar to the one he carried in his bag. Five of them, in fact, which totalled six. And there were also three more water jars along with two more bottles of wine, totalling four.

There were even waterskins on some of the corpses, though they had long dried out from disuse. These feral goblins appeared to need less water than normal, though it was still necessary to survive.

Mark sure was glad he had access to the pocket plane, or he wouldn't be able to carry everything at once. All this loot was too heavy to carry. He left it all sitting in a faraway corner to reduce the possibility of a monster destroying its contents.

Then he picked out the truly good loot from the command building. These goblins even had beds, though the blankets were all torn up. His minions carried one inside his pocket plane.

There were also many odd trinkets of value in a room decorated with bright cloth - probably the mage's. Gems, ore, unfinished magical products, and more provided him with a bountiful haul. While a normal person had to pick and choose what to bring with them, Mark was the sole exception.

After placing everything inside his pocket plane, Mark looked through the artifacts he had received. The ice goblin mage did not wear this ring, but left it inside a rotten chest.

Goblin Ring of Resilience (Uncommon): Slightly increases the ability to recover stamina. Reduces pain felt by the wearer.

As Mark approached a final, unassuming building in the back of the outpost, he came across a horrible sight. It looked normal at first. A small house, with bedding and some rotten wood. But inside its basement were several chained goblins with dead expressions. Inspecting them revealed them as Pacified Goblins, of which only one remained alive. Their figures were so gaunt and skinny, they must've starved.

This peaceful goblin continued to stand, trembling in the room even as Mark's minions came in. It clasped a long rod and swirled it around inside a metal pot. Frothing liquid bubbled inside and occasionally spilled out, which the goblin would immediately go to clean it up with its towel. Mark picked it up first, but let out a cry of pain from the heat.

"Are you okay? Can you understand me?" he asked, moving to carry the Staff of Fire. The goblin made no response, however. It reached into his hand, yanking the towel back, and continued to scrub away.

Mark inspected the pot of liquid and was disappointed to find out it was inedible except for those with mutated stomachs. "That explains how the goblins sustain themselves down here," he muttered. After the goblin had waited a good amount of time for the fire to die down, it took a small sip of its creation. Then, its face scrunched up. The food certainly looked disgusting, but was easy to make inside these mines.

It rested the ladle against the side of the pot and then slowly parted from its station near the pot. Along the wall, a small bundle of rags sat. The goblin lowered itself onto the pile and closed its eyes, chains still digging into its flesh.

How pitiful, Mark thought. He decided to take the creature with him. Though it was still alive, the pacified goblin was in no condition to escape. Instead, it acted more like a loyal servant, focusing solely on one task. He tried to separate the chains from the creature, but they were enchanted to prevent such a thing. So he simply had his orc yank the stake out of the ground and implanted it inside his pocket plane.

Mark gave the goblin a better place to sleep and fed it some mushrooms. It fell asleep quickly, but also woke up just as fast while he was organizing his loot. It looked uncomfortable, so Mark took one of the empty pots beside the dead goblin servants and set it down. He wanted to see what it would do.

Unfortunately, the creature lacked intelligence. It did not recognize that there was nothing inside the pot. Instead, it took its ladle and repeated the same swirling motions over and over. Then, after a set amount of time, it placed the ladle back down and went back for a nap.

"Can you only follow a routine?" Mark idly observed. It seemed to only know how to create stews. Fortunately, the creature could recognize its own hunger and scavenge for nearby food on its own. This was good; it meant Mark didn't have to micromanage it.

He wondered what the goblin could eat. Surely it didn't only consume mushrooms. He needed to figure an alternative way to feed it quickly, before it took away his entire source of replenishable food. That soup was not a viable option, or the other pacified goblins wouldn't have died.

Mark first tried to give it some bones to nibble on. But its teeth had long flattened after a long period of disuse. Boiling them might make it easier, yet he lacked the water to fill up a stew.

The goblin also refused to eat its fellow kin. Mark finally waved one of his six packages of meat in front of it, and its eyes slowly followed his movements. But he wanted to keep these rations for himself, and the goblin stopped looking once he stepped away. Perhaps, it didn't need such luxurious food just yet. Weren't there incidents when a starving person ate too rich a meal and died shortly afterward?

After walking back outside, Mark double-checked the outpost for more treasure. There had to be something hidden here like what Bruce had shown him. But he could not mimic the man's perception.

Instead, his heart skipped a beat and he hid inside a room. Footsteps had appeared in the distance. Someone was coming, and they were human.