A crude sparring ring was cleared behind the tavern, surrounded by curious villagers goblin men, women, and even a few children. They whispered, eyes gleaming with excitement. The chief himself was going to duel the mysterious newcomer.
Azrael stood across from Drake, barefoot in the dust, arms relaxed.
Drake rolled his shoulders and cracked his knuckles. "Don't hold back now," he grinned. "I want to feel it."
That's exactly what I plan not to do, Azrael thought grimly.
His body was leagues beyond Drake's physically, mentally, magically. If he let loose even a fragment of his real strength, he'd risk exposing himself… or worse, destroying Drake.
"Sure," Azrael replied casually, slipping into a basic stance. "Let's see what you've got."
Drake lunged first, fists swinging wildly but with clear technique evolution had gifted him not just intelligence, but instinct. Azrael danced around the blows with minimal movement, barely tapping into his agility.
Fast, he noted. Faster than normal goblins, but still not a threat.
He parried a punch and countered with a soft palm to Drake's shoulder, making it look like an accident. Drake stumbled, then laughed.
"Oh, you're good!"
Azrael gave a modest shrug. "Just lucky."
The duel continued Drake throwing heavier punches, kicks, even a burst of mana through his fist. Azrael blocked, deflected, sidestepped, always careful to seem barely adequate. He even let himself get grazed once, drawing a thin line of blood across his cheek for good measure.
Finally, with a theatrical grunt, Azrael let Drake tackle him to the ground, allowing himself to be pinned.
The goblins erupted into cheers.
Drake panted, sitting atop him. His golden-blue eyes gleamed with sweat and pride. Then, he got off, offering Azrael a hand.
Azrael took it.
"You held back," Drake whispered, breathing hard.
Azrael froze for half a second.
But Drake only grinned. "Thanks… for letting me win, man. My pride as a chief would've been crushed otherwise."
Azrael laughed softly. "No idea what you're talking about."
"Don't play dumb," Drake chuckled. "You moved like a shadow. Every time I thought I had you, you weren't there. Your reflexes… your control… that's not normal."
Then his voice softened, sincere.
"How is a goblin like you so strong? Could you… teach me? Please."
Azrael blinked.
Drake looked away, then back, eyes filled with something Azrael hadn't expected guilt and longing.
"I need strength, Azrael. I need it to protect them. This world… it's not kind to us. Humans… they wipe us out like vermin. If I stay weak, we die. All of us."
The air felt heavy.
Azrael, for once, didn't know how to respond.
He's still a Human…and also a person.
He looked at the cheering crowd. Children waving crude flags. Goblin elders wiping tears. Girls cheering Drake's name.
A society. Fragile, flawed, but alive.
"I'll think about it," Azrael finally said, his voice calm.
Drake beamed.
"Thanks, brother." He said patting him on the shoulder and led him to his tavern
"Welcome to my humble home," Drake said, gesturing around the cozy but worn interior of the tavern. "Now, let me explain why your arrival especially with your obvious strength is a blessing."
Azrael listened quietly as Drake sat across from him, his demeanor shifting. The playful grin was gone. In its place sat a serious, grounded leader.
"The tribe, as you've seen, is fading," Drake began, voice low but steady. "We lack space. Every winter, we keep reproducing nature's instinct, maybe but the cave's interior is vast, untapped. Dangerous too. Beasts roam deep in the stone, and we've lost many trying to push further in."
He leaned forward, hands clasped.
"So I made a decision. I gathered the strongest men, prepared to form a raid team to explore and clear the cave. Not just for survival, but for growth. A future."
Drake's gaze locked onto Azrael's.
"But your arrival changed the timing. Rushed it. Forced my hand but in a good way. I don't know how strong you really are. Or why you hide what you are. But I know deep in my bones you're not here to harm us."
He smiled faintly.
"And I believe… you can help us. Truly help us. Join the raid team, Azrael. Help us reclaim our home."
He spoke with humility, not command. Not desperation. Just sincere hope.
Azrael sat silent, words stuck in his throat.
This isn't the same playful brute I sparred earlier.
The hybrid no, the goblin before him was something more. A leader. A protector. Someone who had seen through Azrael's carefully crafted mask within minutes.
Such insane intelligence in a creature humans call feral…
Azrael was amazed.
Not just by Drake's insight, but by the spirit of this tribe. Weak, yes. Vulnerable, sure. But alive. Growing. Trying to live.
And that was rare
Azrael stayed silent, lost in thought. His conscience screamed for him to refuse. To walk away. To vanish back into the forest and avoid entanglement in any more chaos.
But his heart his cursed, stubborn heart betrayed him.
"…Fine," he said at last, exhaling slowly. "I'll join the raid team."
Drake's eyes widened. Then, with a joyous shout, he leapt from his seat.
"You serious?! Azrael, thank you! If we actually conquer that cave…" Drake's tone shifted to something raw, something determined. He placed a hand over his chest, voice solemn, burning with sincerity.
"I swear by the Origin I will follow you to the ends of the world. Fight by your side until my final breath."
Azrael blinked.
The words weren't just a promise. They were a vow. Binding. Sacred.
He said nothing… only nodded In surprise as his mind cursed such a bozo.
Meanwhile, far from the goblin village, for the first time in ten years, a disturbance rippled through the heart of the city.
Whispers slithered across the streets, reaching the stone gates of the Hunter Association headquarters.
"They're here…"
Twelve figures walked in silence through the hall. Each one cloaked in deep violet hooded robes. The hem of their garments brushed the floor like smoke. No one could see their faces, but their presence it was undeniable.
Killing intent poured from them like a suffocating fog.
Gasps echoed as onlookers caught sight of the emblem stitched into the back of their cloaks.
"The Moonfrost Emblem…"
"It's them! The Moonfrost Guild!"
The words sparked shock and awe alike. A name spoken with reverence and dread.
At the far end of the association hall, a tall man stood before the seated base leader. His body cloaked in thick shadows, his face hidden beneath an obsidian hood. Power radiated from him, quiet and absolute.
His voice cut the tension like a dagger.
"Has Almond and his crew arrived?"
The association base leader, despite the choking atmosphere, kept his composure. "They landed an hour ago. They're on their way."
The hooded man's tone dipped, deep and dangerous.
"Then listen carefully."
He leaned closer, shadows pulsing with unspoken threat.
"Make sure the reason you dragged me out of my gaming session is worth it."
He paused.
"Because if it's not…"
The air around him tightened like a vice.
"…you won't like me. And HQ? They'll hear about everything."
The leader nodded slowly. Calm, but not without fear.
"Yes, sir."
Common Ranold, are you threatening the Association?" came a voice calm, cold, and commanding.
The man who spoke had hair as white as freshly fallen snow, lips tinted like crimson rose petals, and a presence that turned the temperature in the room glacial. He strolled leisurely across the marbled floor of the Association headquarters, each step echoing with restrained power. All eyes shifted as the Everest Guild Leader made his entrance.
Without waiting for a reply, he turned toward the long corridor behind him and spoke curtly, "Come on. Let's go."
Meanwhile, deeper within the collapsed dungeon
Azrael and Drake moved ahead, leading the small expedition through the jagged tunnel system. The walls were moist, almost pulsing, as if the cave itself was alive and breathing. With every step, the air grew thicker, the darkness more oppressive. Minutes felt like hours. Hours like days.
Then finally light.
A strange, dim green glow radiated from a massive chamber hidden within the mountain a cave inside a cave.
The moment they stepped inside, Azrael's breath caught in his throat.
He didn't know why, but his lips moved on instinct. "Praise the Lord…"
But his voice carried no reverence. It was shock. Awe. Perhaps even fear.
Inside, goblins emaciated, hunched, and twitching devoured each other in a grotesque feast of desperation. Bones snapped beneath jagged teeth. Blood mixed with bile painted the floor in chaos.
Then, silence.
Dozens of goblin eyes turned toward the new intruders. But instead of charging, they recoiled slightly, wrinkling their twisted noses. Their gazes locked on Azrael.
He didn't smell like prey. He didn't smell like food.
He smelled like death.
Like something worse than starvation.
Slowly, the goblins slunk back into the shadows, disturbed by something primal.
Azrael's eyes shifted deeper into the cavern past the writhing goblins, past the thick fog of rot and ruin and settled on a figure.
A silhouette bound in thick chains. Frail. Motionless.
It was alive… barely.
Who or what was imprisoned in this abyss?
he thought in confusion.