NOVEL NEXT Chapter 149: Delivering important News
"My liege! My liege! We got a problem!!!"
Rabbi came tearing into the room like his ass was on fire, panting so hard it sounded like a war drum. His short legs were pumping like he had just outrun a stampede of angry boars.
Gear didn't even flinch. He stood on the balcony, staring at the night sky like some dark philosopher, letting the moonlight paint his sharp features.
"What the hell now?"
His voice was flat, bored, the kind of voice that said, If this isn't important, I'm going to make you regret running in here so loud.
Gear wasn't amused. Hell, Gear hadn't been amused in weeks. He had thought, foolishly, that playing with the heroes would entertain him for a while.
He thought making them dance like little puppets on strings would cure his boredom, fill that hollow pit of endless superiority.
Spoiler alert: it didn't.
After that first fight, Gear realized the truth — they were weak. Painfully weak. He wasn't just out of their league, he wasn't even playing the same sport.
It was like watching ants try to fight a hurricane. There was no thrill in squashing them; it was just… cleanup duty.
But that didn't mean he wasn't having some fun.
No, there was one thing that made this whole charade worth it — the original Goblin King himself.
The fool was out there, running around with the heroes, helping them hunt for himself.
That alone was gold.
But the cherry on top, the thing that actually made Gear smirk, standing there with his arms behind his back like some smug general, was watching the so-called King get cozy with the heroes, especially the women.
Watching him turn the paragons of humanity into blushing messes, as if they were cheap tavern whores in some back alley brothel.
That was art. That was comedy. That was the kind of entertainment Gear lived for.
It wasn't the battles that kept him awake at night anymore.
It was this soap opera unfolding in real time, this goblin king's humiliation, this absurd little drama where the "noble heroes" were unknowingly playing matchmaker between their sworn enemy and their own party members.
He chuckled, low and dangerous.
"What is it? Why are you running like that?"
Rabbi finally skidded to a stop near Gear, boots screeching on the polished stone like he was trying to drift a cart with square wheels.
His chest heaved up and down, sweat dripping down his forehead as if he had just sprinted across three battlefields and wrestled a troll for fun.
"I ran… as soon as I heard the news. It's a disaster."
He dropped his hands to his knees, bending forward, sucking in air like a fish thrown on land.
Gear just watched him. Blank stare. Cold eyes. Then he slowly shook his head, like a disappointed parent watching their child try and fail to juggle one ball.
"Just say what happened. And it better be worth my time."
Rabbi, still wheezing like an asthmatic war drum, finally tilted his head up. His lips trembled with the weight of his words.
"I… I just got an emergency call… from Peach. From the bunker."
That single sentence made Gear twitch. His eyebrow rose — just slightly — but enough to show that Rabbi now had his undivided attention. The air grew colder. Even the night sky seemed to pause.
"Go on…" Gear said, his tone sharp, like a knife being unsheathed. "What's the message?"
Rabbi's lips parted. His chest puffed up. His finger rose like he was about to deliver the grand revelation of the century.
And then—
"Haaaaa… phewww… haaaahh… phewwww…"
He just started gasping like he was giving birth through his lungs. No words came out. Just wheezes and spit.
Gear's eye twitched.
He scowled, putting a hand over his face, dragging it down slowly like he was trying to physically pull the irritation out of himself.
"Man, come on. This is not how you do it. If I were the old Goblin King, he would've sliced your head off just for making him wait this long."
Rabbi tried to raise a hand in apology, but it looked more like a drowning gesture. He opened his mouth to speak again—
"Pheeww… hhhhhaaaa… it's… it's—haaahh—"
Gear groaned, pressing his palm harder against his face.
"This is torture. Actual torture. Out of all the goblins under my command, I had to get the one who runs like he's allergic to oxygen."
"Yeah, yea… wait… huuu… aaahhh…"
Rabbi straightened up finally, legs wobbling like jelly on a hot plate. He wiped a thick wad of sweat off his forehead and flicked it away like it was holy water. His chest puffed up, and then he opened his mouth like he was about to drop the ultimate bombshell.
"Its… its… uh…"
Gear's eyes narrowed. His patience was thinner than goblin toilet paper. "Yes… yes… its… what?"
He even gestured with his hands, beckoning like a conductor begging an offbeat drummer to keep up.
Rabbi lifted a trembling finger. His lips parted. His whole body shook with the tension of the moment.
"Its… its… too hot right here, right?"
Gear froze. His face twisted. His teeth ground together.
"Man!! Come oN!!!"
Gear completely flipped. He stomped on the ground hard enough to rattle the balcony rail, sparks practically flying off his heels. He turned away in pure frustration, hands flailing in the air. What the fuck was wrong with this guy? He just ran all the way up from the ground floor, made it sound like Peach himself had found God and was sending his last will, only to delay the message by breathing like a dying donkey.
In Gear's mind, the math was simple. If Rabbi had walked like a normal goblin—hell, even stopped to eat a snack on the way—he'd have delivered the news five minutes ago without all this bullshit.
"Ah, sorry. Sorry. I just got carried—"
"—Shut the fuck up and just tell the goddamn news, bitch!!!"
Rabbi flinched so hard his ears slapped against his own head. "Alright, alright! Damn. Don't bite my face off. I was just… building the suspense, you know?"
Gear's glare promised murder.
Rabbi raised his hands in surrender. Then, finally, after what felt like a century of wasted oxygen, he spoke the words.
"Its just… the bunker has been infiltrated by the heroes…"
The silence that followed was so heavy even the night wind held its breath.
"…."
"…."
Rabbi scratched the back of his head. "…mmm yeah, that's… that's what Peach told me."
"…."
Gear didn't move. Didn't blink. Just stared.
"…say something, man. Don't look at me like that."
"…."
"…."
Rabbi scratched the back of his head. "…mmm yeah, that's… that's what Peach told me."
"…."
Gear didn't move. Didn't blink. Just stared.
"…say something, man. Don't look at me like that."
Gear looked up at the ceiling like he was asking the gods for strength, breathed in through his nose until his chest swelled, planted both hands firmly on his hips, and then looked back at Rabi with murder in his eyes.
"My dear brother who was born to a fucking stupid whore!"
Gear's voice boomed so loud the balcony railing shook.
"You are delivering this important news like this?! Like this!!!"
His arms flew around wildly, his claws slicing the air like he was conducting a symphony of rage. He was done. This wasn't anger anymore, this was spiritual fury.
Gear paced back and forth, muttering under his breath.
"I should strangle this motherfucker. Yeah. Just grab him by his skinny goblin throat and wring him like a wet rag. Waste my time, delay critical news, make me stand here like a dumbass—yeah, that sounds fair."
Rabi, who was still bent over with his hands on his knees, looked up nervously.
"Uh… s-should we go…"
He scratched the back of his head, hoping that would calm the storm.
Gear stopped pacing and turned to stare at him with the kind of look that could make a tree apologize for existing.
"Why? Why?! The heroes must have killed all of them by the time you told me the stupid news. Yeah, a news so crucial and important, and you just—what—decided to take a breather, make a speech, sweat a little bit before saying it? Man, fuck you!"
"…."
Rabi's lip trembled. He gulped so hard it was audible, like a rock being dropped in a well. His eyes were watery. His whole face looked like he was about to cry on the spot.
"Ahhh, goddamn man. Goddamn."
Gear pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head like a disappointed father who had just found out his kid failed Goblin Kindergarten for the third time.
"This is real messed up."
Gear muttered. Then finally, his rage began to cool just enough for his brain to start working again. His jaw tightened, and his eyes narrowed as he began to actually think.
'What the hell is happening?'
The bunker didn't even hold anything important anymore—just the rotting, useless body of the late Goblin King.
And even that wasn't worth protecting, not when the bastard himself was walking around with the heroes like some kind of green-skinned traitor mascot.
'He had to lead them there. No way they just found it by accident.'