Gumir blinked, his vision slowly adjusting to the dim light filtering through the trees. A cloaked figure loomed over him, its features obscured by the hood’s shadow. The Griffon’s lifeless form lay a testament to the cloaked figure's power.
“You have a peculiar scent, little goblin,” the figure rasped, its voice a dry whisper, it sounded like one from a human male. It was important to differentiate voices between the male and the female, this was crucial when going out for a hunt amongst the tribe.
“A faint echo of magic, but something more… interesting.”
Gumir scrambled to his feet, his bravado brittle.
“I-I can smell Mana,” he stammered, fearful of the cloaked figure before him and the ingrained respect for magic showing.
He was not sure what this figure was, he looked human yet he could not confirm it entirely with the veil on them. His life had just moved from one hand into the other. He knew that with this new variable at hand, the best he could do was seem useful to him, otherwise he would die without ever knowing how he did.
The figure chuckled. “Intriguing. You seem to have escaped with your hide intact, despite your lack of fangs.”
Relief washed over Gumir, a stark contrast to the terror moments ago. It seemed the figure was amused by him in a certain way. He most probably had met an eccentric figure. Anything could happen with this one. Worst scenario he could think of was being a slave. Although thoughts of a quick death were still running through his head, he mustered his strength once more to converse with the cloaked figure.
“Thank you for saving me,” he managed to say while bowing his head.
Courtesy and gratitude was important when dealing with the strong that much the mage elders of the tribe had taught him.
The figure looked up at the two moons shining in the sky.
“I am Zalthus, an alchemist of some renown. And you, little goblin, are Gumir, the excommunicated magic-sniffler, am I right?”
Gumir’s breath hitched. News traveled fast, even in the wilderness. He hesitantly nodded, shocked the stranger knew his name. Scanning him briefly he realized that he wore a shiny silver ring that reflected off the moonlight on the index finger of his right hand. The ring had some attractive intricate markings on it.
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Zalthus studied him for a moment, his eyes gleaming with an unsettling intensity.
“I can tell you are curious. There’s more to this forest than meets the eye, Gumir. And more to you than meets the nose.” He chuckled as he finished those words.
The Griffons body was suddenly sucked up towards his right hand. Gumir suspected the ring had a space storage function, an artifact he only had heard about.
“Follow me Young Goblin, your destiny now lies with me.”
Intrigued and wary, Gumir followed Zalthus as they navigated the dense foliage with an unnerving ease. He could not refuse the invitation even if he wanted. From an early time his elders had made it clear for the young goblins to understand that the world was the world of the strong.The forest, once a familiar enemy, now seemed to hold secrets Gumir never knew existed.
Half a day had passed by when they emerged into a clearing bathed in an ethereal glow. In the center stood a crumbling stone structure, its walls adorned with faded runes that pulsed with a faint luminescence. Gumir was tired beyond measure, hunger was but a part of him now, yet faced with this new situation he could not afford to show any weak side of himself.
“An old crypt.”
Zalthus said, his voice echoing in the stillness.
“The final resting place of my master, an alchemist and a scholar of the arcane who dabbled in the forbidden arts.”
A shiver ran down Gumir's spine. Forbidden arts? The whispers of dark magic that sent shivers down even the bravest of goblin warriors.
Zalthus produced a vial filled with an iridescent liquid, swirling it thoughtfully.
“He left behind a legacy, a hidden trove of knowledge and artifacts. Knowledge I believe you, Gumir, are uniquely suited to inherit.”
Gumir’s heart hammered in his chest. Inherit an alchemist’s legacy? A goblin like him? He couldn’t help but blurt, “But why me?”
Zalthus’s lips curved into a sly smile.
“Because, little goblin, you possess a talent more valuable than brute strength or flashy spells. You are closely attuned to Mana. This has been manifested by your ability to perceive Mana through smell. Within this crypt lies a treasure trove of potent Mana signatures, a map waiting to be deciphered by your peculiar nose."
Gumir hesitated. The allure of knowledge, of finally having a purpose, warred with the fear of the unknown, of delving into forbidden magic. Yet, the prospect of a future beyond scavenging and fear was too tempting to resist. He wouldn't resist
With a deep breath, Gumir stepped forward.
“Alright,” he said, his voice surprisingly steady. “Lead the way.”
Zalthus chuckled, a low rumble that sent another tremor through Gumir.
"Welcome, little goblin, to your true calling.”
The stone door of the crypt groaned open, revealing a narrow passage that plunged into darkness. Zalthus raised his staff, a staff Gumir had no idea he had just moments ago. It sure was nice having a magical storage ring. With the tip of the stuff glowing, illuminating the dusty steps that descended into the unknown.
His heart was pounding with a mixture of trepidation and newfound hope, as he took a hesitant step forward. The forest he once knew had become a mere threshold. He was about to embark on a journey that would redefine his destiny, a path paved with forbidden magic, cryptic secrets, and the power of an unusual goblin who could smell Mana. The unknown had never seemed so hopeful before, not until now, Gumir thought.