Chapter Sixteen

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

I, of course, have a plan. I've palmed a blood-shard bomb in my hand as I came into the center of camp. As soon as the goblins close in around me, I throw it on the ground, and it shatters into a cloud of crimson, bloody death. The shards pierce the goblins, and they scream in utter pain, writhing and twisting as they fall to the ground, their veins swelling like overfull leeches. I hurl more blood lightning, killing goblin after goblin.

A few manage to ignore the pain and run at me, screaming, crude blades raised. I can see the blood shards working on them; their veins are as swollen as the others, ready to burst. Yet they seem intent on taking me with them. I roll backward, dodging their strikes and hurling more blood lightning their way. The goblins aren't entirely stupid; they don't just stand there. They attempt to move out of the way. However, they're too slow, the pain of the blood shards ripping them apart from the inside affecting their movements.

My blood lightning lands, exploding against them and killing them instantly. Despite how well I seem to be doing, the goblins' numbers are irrefutable and more close in, unaffected by my bomb. It's a good thing I still have two more. When the goblins see that I have another one in my hand, their yellow eyes grow wide, and they turn and flee.

Unfortunately, they can't get far enough. I chuck the bomb so it lands a little ways ahead of them, and it smashes, unleashing crimson hell. The shards dig into them, and the entire group drops to the ground, convulsing.

I'm about to mop up the rest of the goblins in the camp when a roar shakes the air, vibrating through the stone floor beneath my feet.

"WHO DARES KILL MY TRIBE?"

Lazarus chuckles, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.

"Just as I thought. You'll like this; pay attention."

As if I have any other choice. The largest tent in the camp's center explodes open, and a massive green form emerges from it. In his hand is a truly impressive cudgel, and the green monstrosity wields it with one hand. I analyze the threat.

This is a hobgoblin goliath at level 25.

Lazarus claps his hands, clearly enjoying the spectacle. "You've stumbled upon a minor boss! Ah, to be young again."

This is a minor boss then. Its level is on par with the demon! I'm not deterred, however. I've been killing lots of goblins, and as a result, I've made progress.

Your blood lightning has increased to level 10. Your enchanting has increased to level 26!

I can defeat this thing; after all, I defeated the demon. I only have one bomb left, though, and I'm not keen on using it right away unless I have to. So, I turn to the only other option at my disposal. I hurl lightning at it.

The crimson bolt arcs through the air, crackling with destructive energy—but the goblin smacks it away with frightening ease, the weave dissolving into nothing more than a few sparks.

Your weave has been unraveled, negating the spell!

I gape at the message, panic jolting through me like a tiny shock. I know it's possible—after all, the katana at my side, which I can no longer use, had an enchantment that did something similar. I guess I'm just surprised that someone else can do something similar. I really shouldn't be, and I frown, disappointed in myself.

"Hey! I wouldn't spend too much time thinking; that big bastard is getting ready to smack you down," Lazarus calls out. The spirit is sitting on a nearby rock, head on his propped-up fist, eyes burning with interest. Sadly, he's right. The hobgoblin has moved up on me and is bringing his cudgel down in a massive overhead swing.

"Smash the intruder! Die puny human!"

I'm not keen on getting smashed. I roll out of the way as the cudgel smashes into the stone ground with a sickening thud. I come up to my feet, taking a breath. That was close. The giant goblin is unfettered; he turns and swings his cudgel in a massive swing my way. This one is trivial to duck under, though.

"Quit moving, human!"

That isn't going to happen. Yet, I do have a problem. Lazarus decides to speak aloud.

"Having trouble harming him, huh? You need to get a shot in without him blocking with that truly impressive stick of his. Of course there is another way." Lazarus trails off. I flick him a glare and then refocus on the goblin.

"What other way?!" I call the question to the spirit.

"Don't ignore me, human!" The hobgoblin roars and swings his cudgel at me with tremendous force.

I dive and roll away. The cudgel takes out a tent, smashing it to the side. Lazarus taps his chin.

"How are you supposed to learn if I just tell you the answer, hmm?"

I scowl but begin to think. Of course, the giant green monster isn't just going to let me sit down and do that at my leisure. I keep dodging his blows as I think about it. Lazarus wouldn't hint at an answer that was impossible for me to figure out. Which means the answer is there, and it has to be something I can do.

I only have two weaves: blood lightning and mass charm. Blood lightning doesn't work, but perhaps mass charm would. I begin the weave and overlay it on the hobgoblin goliath.

Mass charm has failed on the hobgoblin goliath.

I swear and dodge the goliath's blow. He's still raging at me, but I've long since stopped paying attention. I try again with the weave.

You have failed to charm the goliath.

I curse again, but determination keeps me at it. Then a surprising message unfurls in my mind.

Your mana is critically low. You cannot cast this spell.

Well then. I haven't yet seen a message like that one before. Then again, I hadn't cast so many spells in a row. Frustration wells up inside me, and I grit my teeth and clench my fists. I don't have time to indulge in it, however, as I have to dodge again.

I need to come up with an answer; this is tiring me out. I can't keep at this forever. What else can I do? My hidden blood skill isn't useful in this situation, but perhaps...

The hunger stirs within me again, a whisper at first but growing stronger. The memory of Riselle's blood, the power it gave me, flashes through my mind. I grimace at the thought of feeding again so soon, but it's all I have. A plan forms in my mind, and though it isn't pleasant, it's all I have.

On the goliath's next swing, I take a deep breath and let the goliath hit me. The cudgel breaks my ribs as all the air rushes out of me, and pain, white-hot, shoots through me. Yet, I'm alive, and that's what matters. I wrap my arms around the cudgel, holding onto it like it's a tree branch. The goblin giant is not pleased with this.

"What?! Off my cudgel, human! I'll smash you!"

The goblin raises the cudgel high.

Which is what I've been waiting for. As soon as the cudgel is raised, I let go and drop directly onto the goliath's head. The goblin reacts immediately, thrashing his body this way and that, but I hold on. The hobgoblin finally decides on a second tactic, which I'm pleased with given that the thrashing is sending rivers of pain through my broken ribs.

As soon as the thrashing stops, I allow myself to drop further, so my hands are wrapped around the goblin's neck. I have no chance of choking him out, but that isn't my goal anyway. Before I can act further, though, the goblin tries to smash me with the cudgel. The goblin does not succeed, however, and only hurts himself.

"Arghh! Human, get off of me!" the goblin hollers.

I do not comply. Instead, I open my mouth wide, revealing my sharp fangs.

Then I bite down on the goblin's neck, piercing the green skin.

Goblin blood isn't what I expected. Rather than the foul taste I anticipated, it's surprisingly sweet, with a metallic tang that makes me groan in pleasure as power rocks through my body, sending electrical shivers down my spine. The goliath begins to thrash, smashing my back against a stone wall. More pain lances through my back, and I hear a sickening crack as my spine literally breaks. I almost let go, but I'm not concerned with the pain. Just the intense wave of power and pleasure.

The deliciousness of the goliath's blood is too sweet. Everything is so clear and so right. The world narrows to nothing but the pulse of blood flowing into me, the rhythmic beating of the goliath's heart growing weaker with each pull. At some point, the goliath has fallen to his knees.

"N..no..s-s..stop.."

I do not stop. I suck the goliath's blood through his neck as if the goblin were a straw in a pouch of juice. As I drain him, fragments of foreign memories flash through my mind—visions of a grand city beneath an impossibly large tree, its buildings etched with golden runes that pulse with power. I see shadowy figures trading with goblins in dark alleys, vials of glowing green liquid exchanging hands. The name "Aetherius" echoes in my thoughts, along with "Enchanters Guild" and "Iron Legion." These scattered images vanish as quickly as they appear, leaving me wondering if they were real or simply hallucinations born from the blood itself.

You have killed a hobgoblin goliath level 25. Your consume blood skill has increased to level 15. Your minor regeneration skill has increased to level 6. Your level has increased! You are now level 17!

I lift my head from the goblin's neck in a slow, satisfying movement, looking at the ceiling, mouth agape. My back has healed, and so have my ribs. In fact, all of my pain is gone. I'm certain my mana has been restored as well, though I'll have to try weaving a spell to be certain. After the euphoria settles, I stand up. The goliath's skin is now a pale, lifeless green. I have indeed consumed all of its life force.

I wipe my mouth, flicking the greenish goblin blood onto the ground. Lazarus claps, clearly impressed.

"I knew you'd figure it out! Bravo, young fledgling!"

I shake my head at him. "Fat lot of help you were," I mutter.

Lazarus tsks at me. "Now, now, that isn't any way to say thank you, is it?"

I wave at him dismissively. "It's time to move on," I state.

It's time to get looting.

The goblins don't have much. I find fifty EC, some leather armor, and, of course, the goblin giant's cudgel. I look at it, analyzing it.

This is a cudgel of unraveling. It unravels any apprentice-level weaves it comes into contact with.

I manage to get it into my bag of holding, but when I do, a message pops into my mind.

This is a very large item. It has taken up much of your bag of holding space, and you will not be able to store any other medium-sized or large items.

I grumble about that, but it is what it is. I poke around the camp some more, but other than a weird-smelling drink that Lazarus confirms is grog, all I find are some basic rations, which I store in my bag. Chewing my lip, I ask Lazarus a question:

"Would it be possible for me to store any of the blood in these goblins?"

Lazarus shrugs, his spectral form casting faint shadows across the stone walls. "Sure, if you had any vials or containers to hold it in, it wouldn't do you much good, though."

I blink at him, furrowing my brows. "Why not?"

"Because, my young fledgling, that is dead blood. The lifeforce is what matters, and for that, the blood needs to be pumping into something that is alive."

I sigh—too easy, of course. Lazarus raises a finger, his eyes lighting up with a new thought.

"I should add that it still may be worth doing, fledgling. I wasn't entirely right; the blood does need to be pumping through a living being, but that's just one way. It can also be infused with life force through weaves. Doing that creates a potion—a blood potion, in fact. My people used to subsist on it as well." His voice takes on a nostalgic quality. "Corvin Dale of the Red Sands was particularly skilled at their creation."

"The Red Sands?" I ask, recalling he mentioned his coven was sealed there.

"In due time, fledgling. You're not ready for that knowledge yet." Lazarus's eyes gleam with secrets untold.

I grunt thoughtfully. It doesn't matter much right now; I don't have anything to hold the blood in, even if I wanted to gather it. Of course, that doesn't mean it's worthless information. I'm sure that Fred could get his hands on potion vials for me if I asked for them, and maybe Fred even has a connection that would allow me to find someone who could infuse any gathered blood with lifeforce.

My expression sours. That may create questions, though—questions I'm not sure I can answer. For reasons Lazarus has yet to explain, celestials want vampyres dead. If word got out... Yes, I have to be careful. Still, I don't rule out the possibility. I could find someone trustworthy. Maybe.

As I finish searching the camp, I notice something small and glittering beneath a pile of rags. It's a small crystal vial filled with a luminescent green liquid. I hold it up to the light.

"What's this?" I ask Lazarus.

He floats closer, eyes narrowing. "Sap," he says with disgust. "Derived from Eden Tree nectar, highly addictive. It's a plague in Aetherius—makes users euphoric while blanking their minds. I'd recommend keeping it. Not for consumption," he adds quickly, "but as evidence. Someone is supplying these creatures with dangerous substances from the outside."

I carefully tuck the vial away, wondering what else lies beyond this dungeon. The fragments of vision I experienced while draining the goliath suggest a world far more complex than I imagined.

"Alright, we're done here, Laz. It's time for us to go to the second floor.”