One week passed quickly.

Thom sat up on the wooden bed, resting upon a soft sheet of fur and hide. He looked around himself. A dying bonfire was the center of what looked like a camp, surrounded by logs to sit around. There were stone axes and bone daggers scattered along the ground, and several trees turned into stumps further ahead.

A wooden clothes rack was standing a few meters away from the bonfire, where a pair of shirts were hung to dry out in the sun of the morning. Pieces of fur and animal skin accompanied them as well, painting a parallel image between the well-crafted clothing and the crudely-procured hide.

Seeing the scenery slowly build in his head as a campsite, everything around him started to become clear.

He looked down a few meters away from him to see a roughly-crafted sleeping bag, where two black-haired girls were pleasantly sleeping. They hid under sheets crafted out of boar hide, their hairs tangled with each other, their hands close to their faces.

Thom looked at the clothesline again. It would be better if he didn't wake them up.

He stretched his feet till he touched the cold dirt. Thinking he could stand up perfectly, he left the wooden bed, but his knees wobbled slightly before falling to the ground. A sensation of extreme weakness spread across his entire body and took possession of him. For just how much had he slept that it was hard to use his body like this? It ached and asked for energy, desperately so. He reached for his bag to take a healing potion— but his hand grabbed onto nothing. There was confusion in the way his hand convulsed searching for the missing bag.

Then the image of Miel piercing through his stomach and destroying the bag came to mind. He gritted his teeth and clenched both his fists, making deep trails in the ground with his fingers. All the gold, all the items, everything that was inside that precious bag had been consumed by nothingness. Thom would never touch any of the items inside, and that made his heart burn with deep hatred and regret, thinking back to all the plans he had made.

He stood up and refrained from crying out of misery. As he was standing up, his left hand stopped by his belt, failing to rest on something. Looking down he noticed, too, how the Black Blade of Yorthand was missing.

Thom gulped down to avoid letting out a scream of frustration.

Just to feel slightly safer, he picked up a crude bone dagger from the dozen that were laying across the ground. It was extremely light compared to the titite longsword be had been using up until now and felt weirdly brittle when he gripped it, but it would have to do for the moment being.

"Losers can't be choosers." He whispered to himself, pain surfacing on his face.

He looked back at the two girls that had been taking care of him up until now. It was best if he left them alone for a while longer so they could rest, and he didn't want to be there when they woke up so they didn't need to give him any explanations.

He wanted to know where he was. He needed to know what had happened. There was a lingering sensation in his heart that the world had moved without him. He was lost even to whatever had happened before they arrived back at Pontya— the only thing he knew was that he had been utterly trampled by Miel. However, he didn't want to think about that now.

Thom detached his eyes from them, and focused on the space in front. Hunger was making a hole in his stomach, he could barely stand with the little strength he had left.

His eyes were set in the vast array of mushrooms growing at different spots. Rotting logs, small cliffs and spots under massive stones, surrounding the creeks and the trees. If the girls had avoided them when searching for food, nobody would tell them otherwise. However, thanks to Thom's [Green Sage], he was able to perfectly discern which species of fungi he could consume. Separating them was essential, even if regular poison wouldn't take effect on him, mushrooms that could create toxins derivated from magic energy would be incredibly lethal to him.

After half an hour of recollecting different mushrooms, Thom could finally sit down by a tree and silently start chewing on them. They were dry and most of them insipid, but they did the job when it came to nurturing his rumbling stomach.

"..."

A pound of mushrooms later, he was full and free of distractions. With his hands, mouth, and mind free, the only thing left to do was think. He slowly started to group together the memories of his battle with Miel, and a sore feeling began to spread from his stomach to his throat.

His defeat hadn't been a simple coincidence. It was not that he had made just one mistake at the wrong time, it was not that he had tripped and fallen, or that he had been for a second distracted— he had thoroughly lost in a fight where he physically held the upper hand, and that made him drown in frustration more than anything.

He gritted his teeth as he thought of Merry and Marz, their heads bleeding bodyless on the wooden floor of their own house, all for a crime that they didn't commit.

"Fuck!"

He turned around where he was, and struck a hole through the tree's trunk with his fist. The leaves danced in the air as they were rustled out of place and slowly fell to the ground. Thom retired his trembling hand from the bark, seeing the crumbles of wood fall from the opening he had made.

"Punching trees won't do anything for me..." He clicked his tongue with severe annoyance. "Is it experience I'm lacking? If it's only that, I can solve it easily. I simply need to— hm?"

Just as he was finished whispering some embarrassing words to himself, several presences reached his senses. He turned around with curious eyes to confirm what he had sensed— a hundred meters away, a dozen figures were slowly approaching him.

"What the hell...?"

Although the two figures at the front looked human enough, their auras didn't correspond with one of a regular human. They were dark and murky, superior to the regular aura of an upper battalion soldier. Their flickering was calm, however. It didn't seem like they were there to engage in a fight.

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Thom rested his back against the tree once more and crossed his arms, waiting for the group to come closer. The leader seemed to have acknowledged Thom's pacific stance, as he showed a beaming smile on his face and signaled his followers to get closer.

Behind the humanoid figures, the other ten seemed to be what Thom knew as goblins. However, different from the red goblins he had met before, these ones showed a deep black color with several gray spots across their body. He searched in his head for any information regarding color variations in goblins, but as far as he was concerned, no species should present such drastic variations in color.

When the squadron finally halted their march, his gaze and the leader's met in a cold greeting. Silence reigned for several seconds, both uneasy to start a conversation. The leader of the goblins seemed to be incapable of saying a word, and Thom simply didn't know what kind of situation he had found himself in. However, as the scene turned each passing second more uncomfortable, Thom was the one to break the silence.

"I don't remember having joined a sect recently." He spoke in the tongue of the goblins.

"Ahh, how splendid!" The one in the front seemed to be ecstatic as he heard those words come out. "This facilitates things a great deal, indeed! I am deeply sorry for not initiating conversation, I may have come across as rude because of this. I bow in front of you, oh, king, and show you my intentions!"

The man immediately fell to his knees, and the ones behind him followed him shortly. Soon, the twelve of them were kneeling in front of Thom, heads pointing down to the ground. Thom stammered before showing a nervous expression, unfolding his arms.

He looked at the figures in front of them in deep confusion before placing his hands on his hips, letting go of a preoccupied sigh. Was this one of the things the world had moved towards while he was sleeping? Had something of this magnitude really happened without him knowing?

Regardless of how many questions were being added up to the pile, he couldn't be brazen about it and ruin their illusion. He would be extremely embarrassed if he was in their situation, and the response they received were to be "Sorry, you've got the wrong person". Thom knew, better than anyone, than once someone thought you to be an important individual, you would need to carry on with that thought, and develop it even further if you had the chance.

In other words, just... just roll with it.

Those words carried a hint of regret nowadays. He wondered why for a short moment, but in truth, he knew the answer.

"Raise your heads." He coldly commanded. The leader raised his head with a warm smile, showing genuine happiness to Thom. Although that had only managed to make him even more nervous, he simply swallowed dry and continued, directing his voice towards the one in the front. "You are at the head of this squadron, correct? Tell me your name."

"Yes." He nodded. "My name is Clung. I am the leader of the eighth horde. I came here to announce to you, and the ones that accompany you, that the proper arrangements have been made, and the eighth horde welcomes you into its humble abode. We had shortly conversed this with lady Suu and lady Erina."

"I see." Thom nodded, although he had no idea what they were talking about. "You say you had conversed with Erina and Suu?"

"Yes. I helped them escape their imprisonment and aided them into getting shelter so that they could wait for the time in which the king could join our ranks and command us to victory." The youth named Clung said with a convinced expression, as it had been set into stone that Thom would help them accomplish that goal of his, whichever it was.

"Aha." Thom nodded.

What the fuck is this guy talking about? I shouldn't have walked away from the girls when they were asleep! He thought.

"We did not explain it in detail to your vassals, however." Clung said. "So I would like to request of you that you allow a gathering back at your shelter, so we can establish a pact and determine our course of action to take control of the world, and kill the king named Miel."

"... Alright." Thom whispered, scratching his eyebrow in deep thought. "There seems to be some kind of misunderstanding here..."

"Will you allow us to accompany us to the place where your vassals are, so we can discuss this with them as well?" Clung stood up and his companions did the same. They seemed to be expectant of something.

"Hmm? Ah, yeah, yeah... I mean, of course. But first, just for reference, when you're talking about conquering the world, what exactly do you mean?"

"The city of Pontya, of course. That's what our master told us before leaving. Although by your words, am I to assume that there is more to the world than just the city?" Clung curiously tilted his head to the side and placed his long fingers on his chin. Thom couldn't help but feel pity for him.

"Well... Yes. A lot more, actually." He struggled to contain the small chuckle trying to leave through his lips. "And... can I receive an explanation to why you have been calling me king?"

"Oh, that. Well, it is because the presence you forced onto the king of Pontya seemed to be even stronger than the man's. And you also portrayed a deep hatred for him. Perhaps it was precipitated for me to assume that only two kings would be fighting in such a manner? Or are you trying to understand the reasoning behind my words?"

"It's both, actually." Thom finally smiled, feeling like he had relaxed slightly after being so tense ever since he woke up. "But that doesn't matter. You said you want to take over Pontya and kill Miel, right?"

"Correct!" Clung vigorously nodded.

"Hmmm... It's not like I don't share part of the sentiment, but..." Thom took in a deep breath and closed his eyes.

Putting aside that he thought that the idea was ridiculous and that there was no way under the heavens that a handful of goblins would ever accomplish such a feat, the part about killing Miel was something he could agree to. However, he was still lacking way too much information to even start establishing a conversation. It seemed like their meeting wasn't just a simple misunderstanding, but he didn't have anything to talk about with them either. It seemed like they were just trying to inadvertently drag him into something shady, and he wasn't convinced by it.

After all, his original plan was to escape to another country as soon as he could, together with Erina and Suu. Even Valta was someone he couldn't think about at the moment. The only people he could continue to trust were the ones that had stuck with him in this situation, had they wanted to do it or not.

Damn you, Miel... If you had just cooperated for a while longer, I would have left your city without bothering you.

He clenched his hand and looked at the black-skinned youth staring at him with expectant eyes. He wouldn't deny that it wouldn't be fun to try something so stupid, but the losses would heavily outweigh the benefits of doing something so risky, even if they managed to survive. Was the goblin in front of him actually being serious, to begin with? It would be strange that he knew the two girl's names if they hadn't met before, but that alone didn't prove that he could trust him.

Thom wasn't thinking of following a plan so stupid. However, he thought that it wouldn't be a bad thing if he confirmed the information he had received. For that purpose, he would have to meet with Erina and Suu, and he wasn't thinking of leaving the goblins behind either.

At this point, the uncomfortable situation he had stumbled across wasn't something he could simply slip out of. If it had been a matter of him alone, he would have probably shaken the group off and escaped already. That, however, became harder to do if the girls were involved.

Shit... Look at all the crap I have to deal with just an hour after waking up. This is really not my year, huh...

Thom breathed in to calm himself down and looked at Clung once more. It seemed as if he was staring at a poor child asking for spare copper coins, or as if he was looking at a dog begging for a piece of the beef he was eating. In this case, however, there was no physical beef, and neither a metaphorical one. It was closer to the dog thinking he was eating something when, in reality, he wasn't.

"I'm thinking about some really weird shit..." Thom clicked his tongue in annoyance.

"What is it?"

"It's nothing." He shrugged. "Follow me. Let me talk my way out of this mess at the very least."