Reincarnated As A Dragon With Cheats-Chapter 40: The Named Goblins (3)

Chapter 40: The Named Goblins (3)

The goblins who had been running away paused in their tracks.

Even fear could not stop their curiosity.

They wanted to see what the elder they admired so much could do against someone thirty of them had failed to defeat.

"The oldie has gone senile. He is nearing death and wants to go out flamboyantly!" the half-paralyzed goblin shouted.

None of the others bothered to refute him.

The elder, despite receiving a name, was weak.

His back was permanently bent, and his skin hung loosely from his bones.

His ribs were clearly visible, along with several other bones that pushed against the thin layer of skin.

One of his eyes had long turned cloudy white.

Even worse, the sound of his breathing was harsh and unpleasant, like someone scraping metal across stone.

Everyone could see this.

So no one laughed at the paralyzed goblin’s words.

Lake’s small support stick was still pointed at Azeth as the two locked eyes.

Usually, when powerful beings locked eyes, they gauged each other’s strength.

A silent battle of instincts.

They measured danger, calculated losses, and sometimes even avoided the fight entirely.

After all, losing could mean the destruction of everything they had built.

Here, however, there was none of that.

Azeth had received an order from Pebbles to gain the goblins’ trust, but their hostility made that nearly impossible.

Perhaps killing this elder would solve the problem.

At least partially.

To Azeth, there was little to lose.

He was ready to butcher him.

Lake, on the other hand, had many thoughts running through his mind.

’The Shaman cured our sick children...’

’He fed the starving ones...’

’Our women are fertile again... and new babies will soon be born...’

’All thanks to the God the Shaman worships...’

Lake’s eyes did not waver as those thoughts passed through his mind.

’Even if I die today... I must weaken him.’

He knew the thought was foolish.

Even he understood that.

’At the very least... my death will give the Shaman time to protect the village further.’

The elder lowered his stick slightly.

Then the battle began.

The elder rushed forward.

He was slow, painfully slow. His bones creaked with every step.

But he felt alive.

He jumped and swung his stick with the strength of a child.

Azeth braced for the impact.

It tickled.

The stick landed on his right shoulder, though it did manage to make him lower his gaze.

He looked down at the old goblin’s trembling feet and shaky hands.

He could even see the faint shadow of the elder swaying left and right.

That was all.

Or so he thought.

Azeth slowly raised his head again and stared at him with dead precision.

He lifted his right hand and formed a fist with his claws.

Then he moved it forward slowly, placing it right in front of the old goblin’s gut.

A burst of wind fired from the movement alone.

The old man was flung away.

Bam!

He collided with a nearby hut, which shattered almost instantly.

The supports broke apart and the structure collapsed.

A cloud of dust rose as the goblins gasped.

Some even tried to flee again.

But Lake was faster.

He coughed up a large amount of green blood as he staggered forward.

Azeth was surprised.

He was surprised that the elder could still walk when his stomach had been blown open and his intestines dangled outside.

"Elder!!!"

Several young goblins screamed at the top of their lungs.

But Lake had already lost his hearing.

His eyes lowered, and he saw the terrible state he was in.

But Lake had seen terrible times before.

The worst times.

Since the beginning, their tribe had lived in villages.

They were different from the native goblins who preferred caves.

Long ago, some of them had changed their way of thinking.

They believed goblins should live under the open sky.

But the forest had proven merciless.

There were countless monsters and terrifying beasts roaming everywhere.

If anything, the best place for a village would have been near a river.

That was what many tribes believed.

Water meant life.

Water meant safety.

But Lake had decided otherwise.

’Rivers are where monsters gather.’

Powerful beasts fought for territory near water.

Predators came there to drink.

Blood was often spilled along those banks.

And worse...

’The rivers themselves hide monsters.’

Creatures that dragged prey beneath the surface.

Creatures that swallowed the careless whole.

When Lake chose a location away from the rivers, many mocked him.

They called him a coward.

They said his fear would doom the tribe.

But in the end...

Those tribes that settled near rivers were wiped out.

Destroyed within a single day.

Lake had been right.

But even that wisdom had not saved them from hunger, sickness, and endless threats.

Now...

Now the Shaman had given them hope.

So Lake tightened his grip on the stick.

His old bones creaked.

His breathing rasped louder.

Yet he took another step forward.

If this was the end...

Then at least he would die protecting the future of his tribe.

Well, many times the world doesn’t give two fucks about what one thinks.

The world is made of people, and when the majority decides something, that becomes the truth.

So someone may have countless brilliant ideas to save lives...

But they might still be called a witch or a Shaman and be killed for it.

The Shaman sitting cross-legged thought that.

His right hand formed a fist as he gritted his teeth, torn between annoyance and understanding.

He could understand what the old goblin felt.

But at the same time, he could only think about how the world treated people like him.

’Some are born strong... and many are born weak.’

’But it is our actions that decide whether we die weak.’

His eyes were filled with determination, the same as Azeth’s.

And he could not help but clap in admiration.

But before his hands struck together, Azeth spoke up.

"Bongo! You deserve to be a named goblin! Bongo!"

Lake gave a faint smile.

He couldn’t hear the words coming out of Azeth’s mouth, not when his eardrums were burst.

But he heard.

The Shaman made it possible.

There was a tiny red glow around his ears... and he heard it.

But he couldn’t muster the strength to speak.

’Ah... I wish someone had told that to me...’

’The name...’

’Yes... I am... Lake... the elder of Village Chunk... and... someone who deserves to be the past...’

The elder fell to the ground.

It was not flamboyant.

There were no amazing tricks.

No retaliation.

Azeth had used a simple punch, not even a skill.

And the elder died before he could do anything at all.

Well...

He did do one thing.

He landed one attack.

Azeth chuckled as he looked at his shoulder.

A scale had come loose.

"Good grief."

The chuckle turned into a smile.

"You went out flamboyantly enough."

There was a smile on the elder’s face.

Maybe, his soul was finally at peace.