Damn the wizards. Damn the Magical Congress.
They destroyed the Goblin Eye without understanding its importance.
This was a direct provocation. It could not be ignored.
No—an immediate counterattack was necessary. They had already gathered extensive intelligence on the Congress, particularly its leader, Chenos.
The treacherous white-eyed wolf had used goblin support to rise to power, only to turn against them.
He had to be cut to pieces.
"I will be the one to lead the charge this time."
In the heart of the Goblin Palace, Elder Nass stood tall, his voice ringing through the vast chamber as he shouted furiously at the gathered goblin elders. His clenched fists trembled with anger as he pounded them against the stone table before him.
His impassioned display drew wary glances from the others.
For years, Nass had been the advocate of patience, the leader of the peaceful evolution faction. Yet today, he seethed with a radical fury greater than that of the most militant voices in the room.
The other elders exchanged uncertain looks.
This was not like Nass.
Morton, the head of the radical faction, narrowed his eyes. Something was off.
"Everyone, listen to me!" Nass continued. "I know Deputy Speaker Chenos better than anyone. Give me your approval, and I will personally organize an assassination plan. We cannot let this treachery stand!"
His voice carried the full weight of his conviction. To the untrained ear, he sounded like a goblin who had been deeply betrayed, who had finally reached the limits of his patience.
"These wizards have grown arrogant! If not for our support, they would have been crushed by Grindelwald and his Saints!"
His words were sharp, his rage palpable.
And yet…
Morton's suspicions only grew stronger.
Something wasn't right.
Nass was too forceful, too insistent. He was practically handing Morton the decision on a silver platter.
Morton, who had long advocated for direct military action against the wizards, suddenly found himself in the bizarre position of having to be the voice of reason.
The realization made his stomach twist.
Nass was playing a game.
"Alright, Nass, enough of the act," Morton said, his voice laced with irritation. "You think I don't see what you're doing?"
The room fell silent.
Morton leaned forward, tapping his fingers against the table. "You don't actually want war. You're using this moment to remind us of the greater threat—Grindelwald and his Saints."
Nass's expression didn't change, but Morton could see it—the faintest glint of amusement in his eyes.
He was right.
"You're a coward, Nass," Morton spat. "You don't have the spine to truly fight wizards, so instead, you perform theatrics to stall for time."
Nass's voice hardened. "If you think I'm bluffing, give me a name. I will kill any wizard you choose."
The room tensed.
Nass's eyes swept across the elders. "Chenos? Sanjay? Geno? Name a congressman, a director—anyone. I will have them killed immediately."
His voice was deadly serious.
Morton knew it was a trap.
If he agreed, the blame for whatever followed would be placed squarely on his shoulders. He would be the one responsible for escalating the war, while Nass would be free to maneuver.
It was a masterful play.
Morton scowled, grinding his teeth.
Nass had turned the radicals' own aggression against them.
None of the elders spoke. The chamber remained deathly silent.
Nass let the quiet stretch, savoring his small victory.
At the very least, this would buy him time. While there would still be consequences for the destruction of the Goblin Eye, they would not be able to use this as an excuse to remove him.
He had shouted the loudest for war. And yet, the radicals had hesitated.
No one would forget that.
Before Nass could press further, a deep voice cut through the air.
"Nass. Morton. Enough."
The goblins turned as a powerful figure rose from the throne at the head of the chamber.
Taller and broader than any goblin in the room, clad in robes of black and gold, wearing a crown that gleamed under the torchlight—this was Turan, the Goblin King.
The true ruler of all goblins.
Once the Grand Elder of Gringotts. Once the ruler of the European goblins. The president of the American Wizarding Banking Association.
Now, the undisputed king of goblins across the world.
At his command, goblins in every major magical region answered.
The elders immediately bowed their heads.
"Great King," they intoned in unison. "May you exist forever, like the blazing sun and silver moon in the sky."
"Rise," Turan said.
Even in that single word, his voice carried a weight that could not be ignored.
The goblins straightened.
"We will address your grievances in time," Turan continued. "For now, you must see something."
He raised his scepter.
The golden staff struck the ground.
A deafening boom echoed through the palace.
White mist surged from the impact, engulfing the chamber.
The goblins braced themselves.
When the mist cleared, they were no longer in the palace.
The floor beneath them was no longer smooth stone, but rough sand. The air was dry, filled with the scent of dust and distant storms.
They had been transported to a desolate wasteland.
Pale yellow sand stretched endlessly in every direction. Sparse weeds clung to life, but there was nothing else—no structures, no signs of civilization.
It was an empty battlefield.
A barren graveyard.
The elders exchanged wary glances.
Why had the Goblin King brought them here?
Then—
"Look," one of the neutral faction elders whispered, pointing toward the horizon.
They turned.
Far in the distance, flashes of silver light crackled through the sky.
Then came the roar of battle.
The image zoomed forward, as if an invisible force had willed it to move.
The battlefield unfolded before them in stunning clarity.
Explosions of magic shook the air.
Silver lightning surged toward a colossal stone figure of Hogwarts.
Flames in the shape of a phoenix clashed against dense gray mist, shrouded in an aura of death.
Dozens—hundreds—of silver-white birds screamed as they charged toward a towering castle.
The goblins stood frozen, witnessing a battle unlike any in history.
Zhi! Zhi! Zhi!
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Waves of destructive magic erupted, sending winds of scorching heat and razor-sharp stone through the battlefield.
The goblins were stunned.
This was no ordinary wizard battle.
No, this was something beyond even the legends of the past.
Turan, the Goblin King, watched silently, his golden eyes fixed on the unfolding war.
It was no longer a battle of wizards.
It was a battle of something greater.
Something… that would reshape the world.
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