The Emperor’s Side Game

Arion wasn't stupid. He knew the fear he'd instilled in the goblin Grulk was temporary and fragile. True, when he reread the creature's thoughts, he found they'd changed completely. There was no trace of betrayal or escape left. All he saw now was:

> [Grulk — Mine Overseer (Self-Proclaimed)]

Status: Terrified, exhausted, absolutely obedient.

Surface Thoughts (Translated): "Must work faster. The shadow watches. Sees everything. If I stop, I'll die. If I think wrong, he'll know and I'll die. Work. Gather. Don't think. Just stay alive."

But Arion knew this was just a temporary fix. "No matter how deep the fear I planted in him," he thought, sitting on a high rock, watching his new slave, "it will never match even a fraction of the fear he feels for the Ghoul Emperor. Sooner or later, when his initial panic fades, he'll realize that 'serving a human' is high treason — punishable by death at best. He won't even want to imagine the punishment worse than death. He'll logically conclude that dying by my hand would be kinder than falling into the Emperor's."

So, Arion had to exploit him quickly — drain him completely before he had a chance to think rationally.

"Grulk!" Arion barked sharply.

The goblin jerked like he'd been stung by a scorpion. "Yes, Great Shadow Lord!"

"I want all the weapons from the corpses stacked in that corner. Now!"

"Immediately, Master!"

"Then, all the corpses to the other corner. I don't want to see any mess."

"As you command, Master!"

"Then the gold. Sort it. Big pieces here, medium here, small ones there. If I find even one piece in the wrong place, it'll be the last thing you ever see."

Arion gave his commands coldly, monitoring Grulk's thoughts continuously. He kept him excessively busy — physically and mentally — leaving him no chance to think about anything except the next task, fear, and exhaustion. It was an effective strategy… for now, at least.

---

On the Emperor's Side…

Upon his throne of bones, the Supreme Ghoul Emperor waited impatiently. He was waiting for the real show: the death of the supporting witch (Kalia) and watching that human knight (Valerius) crumble into despair. He craved that sight — pure, hopeless misery.

But in the midst of his wait, something flickered in his awareness. A sudden life-signal drop in one of the lower mines. "Twenty-three goblins dead…" he thought indifferently. "Must be another power struggle as usual. Scum."

He didn't care at first, but something else sparked his curiosity. "The human rat that was hiding in that cave… his trail vanished from there."

"Hmmm, where did he go?"

In an instant, he activated his [Clan Dominion] skill, which allowed him to see through the eyes of any of his kind within his realm. Thousands of images flashed through his mind in a second — scenes of eating, sleeping, digging… until he found him. He saw the world through Grulk's eyes.

He saw Grulk working furiously, more diligently than any goblin would normally bother with — hauling gold, stacking it from one spot to another. But the Emperor noticed there were no other goblins forcing him to do this. He was working alone, trembling in fear.

This strange, unprecedented dedication made the Emperor suspicious for a moment. He focused more, realizing that this was the same area where those 23 goblins had just died.

In that moment, he understood exactly what had happened.

He laughed — a dry, amused laugh. "That human rat… he didn't run. He staged a little coup and enslaved the sole survivor."

Instead of intervening, he found this quite entertaining. How could a weak human make a creature stronger than himself so utterly obedient? It was a fascinating psychological experiment.

But in that instant, he sentenced them both to death.

For how dare a goblin betray his kind? And, more importantly, how dare he submit to a human?

The Emperor knew his goblins and ghouls inside out — treachery was in their nature, especially the goblins. He could tolerate a goblin betraying another goblin — even a betrayal of his own lieutenants and aides! But he would never tolerate a goblin or ghoul submitting to a human. It was an insult to their entire race.

"Amusing as this little scene is," thought the Emperor, "the real entertainment will begin soon with the human knight (Valerius) and the witch (Kalia)."

He decided to end this small distraction.

He sent a sharp mental command to ten elite guards patrolling a nearby tunnel.

"Go to the old feast hall. Kill everything and everyone you find there — goblins, humans, it doesn't matter. Leave no witnesses."

This was also a test for the human rat. Would he manage to amuse the Emperor a bit longer with his struggle to survive? Or would he end up as food? The Emperor didn't care anymore.

The main show was about to begin.