NOVEL NEXT Chapter 146: Not good!
"Not good. Not good."
Peach scrambled to his feet so fast he nearly tripped over them again, flailing like a drunk man in a cartoon before finally catching his balance.
He took the tiniest, most exaggerated steps backward, one heel gently kissing the ground at a time, like he was trying not to wake a sleeping dragon, except there were several awake, ugly goblins staring right past him.
His wide eyes darted left, right, down—everywhere—searching desperately for the one thing that kept him from becoming goblin kebab.
'Where did it go? Where did it go?'
His brain was screaming at him now, panicking so loud it was like someone was inside his head with a megaphone.
How could something that big—okay, not that big, but big enough—just vanish?
That was impossible. This wasn't a magic trick. This wasn't a kids' birthday party. Tabs didn't just blink out of existence!
"It must be under there somewhere. I need to find it. I need to find it."
He muttered it like a prayer, crouching slightly, peeking between the goblins' legs like some desperate man trying to spot his wallet under a nightclub table before the bouncers kicked him out.
But his back kept pressing closer to the door, step by step, until—
Thud!
His shoulder touched it.
Or at least, it should have.
Instead of the solid, reassuring thunk of a door that would save his life, there was a weird, almost hollow feel.
And then the entire floor rumbled.
The walls groaned like the dungeon itself had woken up in a very bad mood.
The sound was so deep it rattled Peach's teeth and made his knees knock together like castanets.
Every goblin in the room froze, wide-eyed, and then—
WHAM!
A sudden jolt made half of them lose their balance, their green butts hitting the floor like a synchronized performance.
Even the mean-looking goblin with the spiked club just sat there, blinking like an idiot.
Peach froze too, mouth open, staring around in pure horror.
Everything went quiet.
So quiet that even Peach's loud, panicked breathing sounded like an alarm in the silence.
He slowly turned his head, first at the goblins, then at the walls, then back at the goblins again, like maybe one of them would explain what the hell just happened.
Everyone had the same look on their face—confused, scared, and silently agreeing that this was absolutely not part of the evening's entertainment.
"What was that?"
"Man, was that an earthquake?"
"Damn, are we gonna get buried here? I don't wanna be goblin soup!"
The panicked goblin noises were now a full-on chorus, echoing through the hall like a really bad goblin opera. Half of them were clutching their heads, the other half were running in circles as if that would somehow save them from falling rocks.
Peach had the overwhelming urge to fry these idiots like they were bugs under a magnifying glass, but of course, he didn't have the damn thing in his hand right now.
Great. No tablet. No dignity. No control.
"Hey, Peach! What is happening?"
One of the goblins dared to ask him, like Peach was the dungeon tour guide for the evening.
Peach immediately shifted his feet, crouching slightly, knees bent, his hands ready in that fake 'I-have-the-tablet-and-I'm-about-to-electrocute-you' stance.
He hoped the bluff worked, because if even one goblin figured out he was bluffing, he was going to be turned into green confetti.
"I don't know! I don't know! Maybe an attack—attack!"
He stammered so hard the word almost came out in Morse code.
"Attack?!"
"Where? Come on! Let's go!"
The goblins practically leaped to their feet, grabbing their crude weapons, fangs bared in excitement.
"You shut up! You shut up!"
Peach snapped, waving his hands like he was shooing pigeons.
"I was just saying that! There's no attack here at all. Not at all. Look—"
He gestured dramatically at the empty air, like that would help.
"See? No attackers. Just you guys being loud and stupid!"
The goblins groaned and slumped back down, looking like someone had just cancelled Goblin Fight Club for the fifth night in a row.
They were bored. Not just bored—existentially bored.
These were muscle-headed goblins, born to smash skulls and stab things, now being forced to sit in a room and do absolutely nothing. It was like putting a dog in front of a steak and telling it to meditate.
A few goblins started poking the ground with their spears just to have something to do.
"This sucks."
"Yeah, I want fight."
"What's the point of being goblin if we can't fight? Might as well be elf."
The room collectively gasped at that insult. One goblin slapped the offender across the head just to feel alive again.
Peach, meanwhile, was trying not to pass out from stress.
'This is hell.'
He thought, looking at the goblins who were now arguing over whether elves were weaker than humans.
'Fools! They don't even know they're protecting their savior?! Savior…'
Peach's teeth ground together hard enough to chip stone. His anger was boiling under the surface, bubbling like soup left too long on the fire.
But anger or not, he wasn't stupid. He started sliding backwards as discreetly as possible, moving inch by inch like a guilty cat trying to leave the kitchen after knocking over a plate.
His plan was simple — get out, get in the room, slam the doors shut, survive another day.
But, of course, life had other plans.
Before he could even take three more stealthy scoots, the door opposite him slammed open with a dramatic BANG that made every goblin's ears twitch.
Two goblins came tumbling through like someone had shoved them from behind, landing face-first on the floor with a beautiful synchronized SPLAT.
The room went dead silent.
Peach froze mid-step, one leg awkwardly half-bent like a criminal caught mid-burglary.
Every goblin in the room turned, their eyes narrowing, their noses twitching.
Who were these two? Why were they here?
More importantly, what the hell had happened upstairs that sent guards from the second floor running all the way down here?
One of the two goblins weakly raised a trembling hand into the air, like a student reluctantly volunteering in class.
"...Intruder," he croaked, before coughing up blood dramatically. "It's the heroes!!"
And then his head hit the ground again with a sad little thunk.
The silence that followed was so heavy you could have sliced it with a rusty dagger.
But it only lasted a single, fragile moment.
Because the next second—
"YEAAAAAH!!"
Every goblin in the room erupted.
Weapons were raised, chairs were overturned, someone headbutted a wall for no reason.
A tidal wave of green muscle and bad hygiene charged toward the upper floor.
They didn't just run past the two fallen goblins—they trampled them, leaving behind nothing but goblin-flavored paste on the stone floor.
Nobody even blinked.
By the time the last goblin had gone, the room looked like it had just hosted a concert, a riot, and a stampede all at once.
"Fools! Not everyone! Not everyone! We need some guards here! To guard the king! The king…"
Peach's desperate cry bounced around the room and promptly died, because—of course—there was no one left to hear it.
No guards. No soldiers. No loyal subjects. Just him… and two unrecognizable puddles of what used to be goblins.
He gagged. Hard.
"Brutal monsters! Monsters! All of them!"
The smell hit him a second later, and he gagged again just for good measure. He squeezed his nose shut and looked down, scanning the floor for his tablet like a man searching for the last piece of his sanity.
Nothing.
Nothing but meaty, greenish paste smeared across the stone.
He winced. Even if the tablet had fallen somewhere in there, the stampede would've crushed it into smithereens, dust, atomic-level debris.
"Of course they did. Of course! Smash first, think never, that's the goblin way…" he muttered bitterly.
Peach gave the paste one last disgusted look and turned around, muttering to himself about ungrateful underlings and bad kingdom morale. He needed to get back to his safe space, his sanctuary, his one true friend — the healing room.
The healing room could only be opened from the inside. Nobody could break into it. It was his masterpiece. His crown jewel. His magnum opus.
He spun dramatically toward it, already imagining the sweet feeling of safety wrapping him in its embrace.
Then he froze.
"Huh? …What the? What the?"
The door was closed.
No, not just closed — sealed shut, mocking him with its perfect, impenetrable design.
Peach rushed forward, hands outstretched, and shoved it hard. The door didn't move. Not even a polite creak to acknowledge his effort.
He shoved again. Harder.
Nothing.
He knew it wouldn't budge. He designed this bunker. It was made for exactly this situation — to be completely impossible to open from the outside.
Which meant…
"Oh no. Ohhh no no no no no."
Peach pressed his forehead against the cold metal and started mumbling to himself, as though the door might feel pity and magically open.
'Intruders!'