Chapter 67: Incident
BOOM
Lhikan reeled, blinking with his remaining eye before he hit the floor.
Tipsy went wide-eyed, lowering her flintlock, the gnome covered in black lines from the blight taking over her body.
“L-lhikan?” Tipsy let out before the gnome was suddenly blasted by a bolt of mana.
****
Distress. An odd sensation coming from one of my minions through our bond.
Hm. Something is up. Unlike with Slimey and Ayaka, my body with my other minions weren't as intense, weren't as focused unless they were in my direct presence.
Slimey. Be on alert.
Sitting in Slimey's hands, she wiggled. The Dragon Slayer floating nearby.
I opened my minion manager, besides Ayaka being at half mana and a little hurt from whatever she was hunting, the rest of my monsters seemed fine.
Well… whatever it was, I'd probably know soon enough.
I turned my attention to the mass of manacyst farms coating various rooms I set aside for their production. Neat and orderly, rows of mana clusters tended to by goblins.
Oddly enough, the anima mana crystals were more akin to plants. At least starting out. They grew like flowers before crystalizing, turning into translucent gems that sported see through veiny exteriors.
I had never seen an anima Manacyst grow before, the experience, something that fascinated me as I grew them in my meadow that was coming along nicely despite the lack of sunlight.
Still, despite the rooms dedicated to mana production, it wasn't enough to build the mutator without shorting my supply that also doubled as my food source…
Sigh.
Did every dungeon have to go through this? It didn't seem like it…
Then again, dungeons were forces of nature that cropped up and expanded over years, and here I was doing everything practically overnight.
Fortunately for me, most of the dungeon cores my forces scouted out in the surrounding areas seemed to be flush with their own biomes or mass producing monsters.
Typical dungeon stuff, but they didn't seem keen to attack me like the Dryad's core. Which worked out fine I spose. They kept spawning monsters, I kept composting them. Although, their production wasn't high enough to feed my own army anymore, forcing me to rely on the mana farms and stunting my quest progression.
Sigh…
My attention turned to Jesse unwittingly, a thought crossing my mind.
I wonder how much manacysts I could get from composting a human…
Tempting… very tempting…
Ignoring the urge, I turned my attention to the Dryad I dubbed Mrs. Romanov. It had taken me a bit, but I realized the stupid green woman was speaking Russian of all things.
Why Russian? How Russian? I didn't know! But the monster was being stubborn and refusing to allow itself to submit to my control.
That would soon change.
Carrying me down all fourteen flights of stairs, Slimey brought me through the tunnel system of my dungeon to stand in front of a prison cell guarded by a squad of armored goblins.
Inside, the dryad. Strung up with her body bound by tight spider silk, her arms and legs folded close to her sweaty abody with silk binding her eyes and mouth as part of a sensory deprivation torture technique.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
Entering the prison, the dryad shifted, reacting to our presence, the green monster wiggling in a futile attempt.
A goblin in silk clothing handed Slimey a chicken feather. One expertly stolen from the flock of genocidal chickens.
Now. Are you going to finally submit, or shall we continue? I sent, Slimey walking to stand beside the dryad where her feet hung exposed.
I reached out, my advances rebuffed, albeit not as fierce as before, showing improvement.
Slimey, remove the mouth gag.
The gag was removed, the dryad breathing heavily. Fortunately, like a plant, the dryad breathed and ate through their skin. Meaning she absorbed mana and water so long as it was nearby.
“N..nyet… Pozhaluysta... ne boleye.”
Yeah… that doesn't sound like an ok. Well, Slimey. You know what to do.
“Of course my lord.” Slimey replied, brandishing the feather as she tore off the silk binding obscuring the dryad’s eyes that went wide.
“N-nyet! Nyet! NYET!!!” The dryad begged, Slimey brandishing a wide smile.
“My lord!” Suddenly a goblin came screeching in, kneeling and interrupting the conversion process.
Hm? What is it Number 66? Can't you see we're busy?
“Its Commander Lhikan milord! He's been injured!”
*****
Oh… oh crap.
Buttstalion brought back Lhikan, the man bleeding profusely, missing his left eye.
SLIMEY!
Immediately the slime expanded, enveloping the Paladin laid gently on the ground.
Slimey began to shimmer with white light, activating all of her healing skills as I purified the blight infecting him.
Uh. Crap! Is he still alive?!
GOBELDEE! I reached out, contacting my commander who was learning sign language with Simone.
The goblin blinked, wide-eyed.
Bring Simone here now!
The goblin did as ordered, before long bringing the confused woman who began to panic at the sight of the injured paladin.
“Elder?! Elder Lhikan!” Simone screamed, the man pale and still bleeding.
“Heal him! Do your job human!” Slimey spat.
“Y-y-yes! Right away!” Simone quickly went to work, applying her own healing that resonated with Slimey's, the dual casting augmenting her Mend skill.
Fortunately, Lhikan's complexion began to grow a shade darker, shifting from the deathly pale as Buttstalion joined in. Unfortunately, none here were experts at healing. At least, not to the degree required.
Lhikan's injuries had stopped bleeding, but the man was down an eye. And it was all thanks to the gnome lying unconscious nearby, tied up by the two goblins who were supposed to be Lhikan's guards.
The pair bowed, their failure to protect the paladin evident.
Should I punish them? Make an example? It was clear the Paladin had been ambushed but they had succeeded in capturing the gnome, a source of many headaches.
The two were quivering, shaking as they knew what became of those that failed their bosses. In the goblin world, failures were eaten, canalized to nourish their betters.
But I was no goblin.
Get to the dining hall and eat. You're dismissed.
The pair looked at one another, confused, but nodding, snapping a salute before taking off.
[Devotion +7]
Hm. I turned my attention to the gnome, the knife-eared short stack unconscious wearing a what appeared to be a modified mask filter.
Gobledee.
“Yes! My Lord!”
Secure the prisoner. Post double guards. I have a feeling this one is crafty.
“Of course.” Gobledee signaled two of my armored goblins. The pair approaching and dragging the unconscious woman off as the castle shook.
Nani? What the hell is that?
***
Elsewhere nearby.
“FIRE!” Donut spat, the Justicar ordering the soldiers to fire the catapults.
The catapults launched, striking the mountain base of the castle and blowing holes into the side of the ancient fortress.
Danse frowned, watching as parts of the structure fell away.
“Sir,” Donut asked, the Justicar surveying the damage before turning to the paladin. “As ordered, we've fired the catapults yet, once more, I must caution against further heavy weapons use.”
“Yes yes, I've heard you the first, second, and third time,” Danse replied, scratching his chin. “If we try traversing the entire castle we'll be here for months. Unlike you lot, I prefer the comforts of a warm bed and generous eye candy.”
Donut remained stoic, no words to reply to her commander. Unbeknownst to everyone else, Danse had privy information, information brought to him by his artifact.
The objective was in a cavern of some sort, connected to sewers. Yet, despite trying to enter through the river way, it was filled with acid, toxic fumes, and some kind of black mold that was only held at bay by his magicians casting flames.
Tsk. Damn Justicars. This ain't a containment mission, this is a retrieval! Danse gripped, thinking about his casters being taken away by Lady Berus along with several artificers to study the “Queen Mold”
Although he was the commander, the woman's authority rivaled his, at least in terms of renown and respect, even the mercenaries listened to her.
“Fire another salvo. I want to make sure there are entryways big enough for our advance teams to enter and cover more ground.” Danse ordered. “Goddess forbid we're here another week.”
“Understood sir.” Donut replied, a loyal soldier, nodding to the nearby sergeant.
The sergeant began to bark orders, yelling at the mercenaries to reload the catapults.
Danse sighed. The sound of monster roars echoing out from the castle as dozens of creatures cam pouring across the broken bridge that connected them to the castle.
“Contact! Gnolls and undead!” The watchman yelled, dozens of mercenaries rushing to the front line, the interception team digging in to form the defense.
Goddess Destina. You surely give your greatest warriors their most difficult battles. Danse sighed, walking off as the sounds of clashing began to fill the air.