NOVEL NEXT Chapter 148: The Goblin King!
Adrian leapt over the now-groaning heap of goblin agony and scanned the hallway ahead, his thoughts racing faster than his feet.
'Now where could they be? They have to be in the most secret, most dramatic, most "boss room" place possible. Which means—'
He spotted a heavy-looking door at the far end of the corridor.
'Down below. Always down below. Because of course evil lairs can't ever just be on the ground floor like normal people's houses.
Nooo, we gotta have stairs. We gotta have secret dungeons. We gotta have ominous candle lighting, and probably chains on the walls. Classic.'
With a dramatic huff, Adrian dashed toward the door, kicked it open with way more flair than necessary, because if you're going to run headfirst into possible death, you might as well look cool doing it, and immediately began descending the staircase beyond, his boots clanging against stone.
'Alright, ladies,' he thought, his heart thudding with a mix of excitement and dread.
'I'm coming. And hopefully, so are you.'
...
Meanwhile, back at the camp, Celeste had done what Celeste does best, bark orders until everyone's butt was planted right where she wanted them.
Now, all the remaining heroes stood gathered in a loose circle, weapons strapped, faces tense.
"Are you sure about this?"
Alex asked, brows knitted so tight they could probably strangle a mosquito.
"We aren't even hearing anything. For all we know, Adrian's just… I don't know… taking a nap."
Celeste turned to him with that look, the kind of look that could shut up a god if she aimed it right.
"Of course I'm sure. There's a battle going on out there. I can feel it. The mana in the air is practically humming — no, screaming — and Adrian's magic is all over it. He must be there. We need to go. Immediately."
She wasn't just talking fast; she was moving fast too, pacing like a caged animal. Celeste was in a hurry, and when Celeste was in a hurry, that meant something was very, very wrong. Everyone knew that.
Lyra spoke up, her voice a little quieter, a little shakier than usual.
"And Melissa and Rae?"
She tried to hide the crack in her words, tried to keep her face steady, but it was there, that little telltale tremor that said she was worried sick.
Celeste's expression softened just enough to not seem like a total battle maniac.
"I can't sense their presence. Melissa hasn't used her mana yet, at least, I can't feel her magic at all."
"Maybe they're hiding..."
Bryce said, tightening the straps on his armor with a grin that said he'd been waiting for this moment since breakfast.
"Come on, let's go. We're wasting time."
That was all it took.
The heroes had been sitting around camp all day, ready and restless, like runners waiting for a starting gun.
Now, hearing the sharp edge in Celeste's voice and the absolute certainty behind her words, they knew this wasn't a drill.
This was it.
This was the moment.
Celeste's gaze slid over to Laila like a blade, sharp and commanding.
"The camp's security is yours. No matter what happens, even if it's us screaming and begging for our lives outside the shield... Do. Not. Come. Out. You hear me? I said, do not come outside."
Laila stiffened like a soldier being addressed by a queen.
"Yes, mistress. You have my word."
Her voice was calm, but there was a quiet steel in it.
The three remaining goblins huddled behind her, eyes wide, looking like kids on their first day at school, except their "school" was a fortified camp and their "teacher" was a half-terrifying woman who could kill them if they stepped out of line.
Celeste knew Laila would take her job seriously. If anyone tried to touch those goblins, they'd have to pry them from her cold, dead hands.
Only once she was satisfied that the camp would not fall apart in her absence did Celeste turn back to the others.
"Alright," she said, taking a slow, deliberate breath as if she was sucking the very courage out of the air. "Mount up."
In a flurry of motion, they obeyed.
Saddles creaked, horses snorted, and for a moment the camp was filled with that delicious tension before a storm, the sound of warriors preparing to ride into something they might not come back from.
Celeste swung onto her horse with practiced ease, her cloak whipping behind her like a banner. She turned to look at the others, her eyes hard but burning with determination.
"Let's end that bastard," she said, her voice low but carrying, like a war drum beating in everyone's chest.
She paused just long enough to let the weight of her words settle on everyone. Then, with a grim little smile, she added,
"For the last time."
And with that, they kicked their heels, and the horses surged forward. Dust rose. The camp grew smaller behind them.
The hunt was on.
...
"Holy fuck!"
Melissa's gasp shot out of her mouth before she even realized she said it.
Rae wasn't any better, his eyes were bulging, his jaw unhinged like a cartoon character who just saw Godzilla breakdancing.
The room they had stepped into… no, stumbled into… was something that clawed its way directly into the brain and stamped a permanent memory there with red-hot iron.
Once you saw it, there was no un-seeing it. Not in this lifetime, not in the next, not even if you got reincarnated as a goldfish with three-second memory.
It was that monumental.
The hall was massive — big enough that their footsteps echoed back at them like ghosts mocking their intrusion.
The place was clean. Too clean. Like, creepily clean. Not a speck of blood, not a hint of dust, not even the lingering smell of goblin sweat they had been marinating in all the way here.
It was like stepping through the filth of hell and then suddenly arriving in the bedroom of some king who apparently demanded his maids scrub the tiles with holy water every morning.
But the room itself wasn't what froze their spines.
It was the contents.
At least a hundred humans — yes, humans — were dangling from the ceiling.
Their bodies hung limply in rows, suspended like meat in a butcher's shop or, worse, laundry flapping in a breeze.
But instead of ropes or chains, each of their heads was plugged into a thick, fleshy cord that oozed straight out of the ceiling.
The cords pulsed in a sick rhythm, like some grotesque artery pumping life in reverse, sucking whatever was inside the humans out and slurping it away.
Melissa gagged. Rae covered his mouth.
The cords traveled down the walls like diseased vines, glowing faintly with a wet shimmer, until they all converged at the back of a massive, ostentatious king-sized bed.
And sprawled there, like it was his goddamn Sunday nap time, was him.
The source. The nightmare. The bastard himself.
"The Bloody… motherfucker… Goblin King himself!"
Melissa's voice cracked, half awe, half horror, half are you kidding me right now?!
Her hands went slack, her bow clattering to the ground like it had given up on this life too.
She had been right. All along, she had been right.
"All these months…"
Melissa's voice cracked as if her throat couldn't decide whether to scream or cry.
"All these bloody months we've been eating fire, choking on ash, burying friends, burning through everything we had, because of that bastard!"
Her words bounced around the clean, quiet hall like stones tossed in a holy temple. Rae didn't even breathe.
Melissa's voice was shaking, but not from fear, from the kind of rage that had been marinating in her bones for months. This was the sound of fury finally finding its target.
Meanwhile, Rae… Rae was useless right now. He was just standing there with his mouth slightly open, staring at the figure on the bed like a kid staring at a celebrity poster for the first time.
The Goblin King.
Even lying there like he was dead he was terrifying. That aura. It wasn't just power; it was weight, history, divinity rolled into one.
It pressed against Rae's chest like invisible hands, like the room itself was trying to force him to kneel.
And, embarrassingly, part of him wanted to.
'How in the hell did the heroes beat this guy?'
Rae's thoughts were running circles.
'I shouldn't clown on them. Not after seeing this. I mean, look at him. This guy looks like he was hand-sculpted by the gods just to make mortals feel inferior.'
The Goblin King looked like a living myth — tall, broad, built like a warrior sculpted from blood and bronze.
His crimson hair spilled across the pillow like molten fire, his jawline sharp enough to cut glass, and even asleep he radiated that regal presence.
This wasn't just a king — this was a King. Capital K.
Melissa didn't care about any of that.
She ditched her invisibility cloak, letting it slide off her shoulders and puddle on the perfect floor. The soft sound felt like thunder in this quiet hall.
Her hand gripped the hilt of her knife.