NOVEL NEXT Chapter 120: Kraghul Runs Amok!
The deep tunnels of the mine twisted like dark rivers, lit only by flickering torches. Dust hung in the air, thick and choking from the cave-in Byung had caused earlier but all Kraghul heard was the earth shaking, he moved through the tunnel like a living storm, his huge orc body filling the narrow space. He had slipped in through a hidden side tunnel he had found earlier—Murkfang's greatest secrte was about to play against them, barely big enough for his broad shoulders. He scraped against the walls as he went, but he didn't care. He didn't need help. Backup would only slow him down.
The first group of goblins never saw him coming and because of that, it was a lot easier for Kraghul to strike unnoticed.
They huddled in a side chamber that cojoined with this mine, five of them, whispering plans in shaky voices. Kraghul's axe swung once—a wide, brutal arc that took two heads in one sweep. Blood sprayed across the stone. The others screamed and scrambled for weapons, but he was already on them. A downward chop split the third goblin from shoulder to hip. The fourth lunged with a spear; Kraghul caught it mid-thrust, yanked the goblin forward, and crushed his skull with a headbutt. The last one turned to run—Kraghul's thrown dagger buried in his back, dropping him mid-step.
Five down. No sweat. Kraghul had no interest in the mines and planned to massacre all the goblins in this mine to remind the goblins in other regions what orcs were capable of.
He moved deeper, the scent of goblin fear thick in his nose. The tunnel sloped down, opening into a bigger space—a storage cavern with crates and unprocessed ores. A dozen goblins hid there, barricaded behind stacked boxes. They threw a few sharped projectiles—wild, panicked shots that didn't even hit their mark. Kraghul charged through, splintering wood with his shoulder. His axe whirled: one goblin cleaved in half, another armless and screaming, a third impaled against a wall. He grabbed a fourth by the throat, squeezed until bones cracked, and tossed the body aside like trash. The rest broke, trying to flee into side passages. He cut them down one by one—quick slashes, stomps, a brutal punch that caved in a chest.
Over a dozen dead now. It was turning into a one-sided massacre and there was nowhere for the goblins to go.
This tunnel was a key part in their plan in terms of safety even though they had no knowledge of the hidden cojoined passage.
Kraghul paused, wiping blood from his tusks. He was surprised—a place like this, so deep in the mine? It shouldn't exist this far down. The walls were smoother here, with old runes carved in—dwarf work, maybe? He explored further, pushing into narrower shafts, his axe leading the way. Possibilities swirled in his mind: secret exits, hidden stores, maybe even a back way to the heart of the defense.
He killed three more goblins along the way—quick, clean, no fuss as there was nothing they could do but accept their fate.
Then he rounded a corner, exploring this place further but a goblin in armour stood in his way.
Gribnox stood there, alone, spear in hand. The goblin's armuor was dented, eyes wide but steady. He didn't run. Instead, he charged with a yell, spear thrusting low for Kraghul's knee.
Kraghul almost laughed because what did this goblin hope to accomplish by this?
The fight was a joke. Gribnox was brave, but he was no fighter—slow, clumsy, predictable. Kraghul sidestepped the thrust easily, grabbed the spear shaft, and yanked. Gribnox stumbled forward. Kraghul's free fist came down like a hammer on the goblin's back. Bones cracked—ribs shattering under the blow. Gribnox flew forward, crashing into the wall with a thud that shook dust from the ceiling. He slid down, gasping, spear clattering away.
Kraghul stepped over him, axe raised for the decapitating swing.
"Brave. Stupid. Same thing," Kraghul mocked him but before the blade fell, a new presence was registered in the form of an echo.
Murkfang rushed in from within the very tunnel he had guaranteed these goblins they would be safe, knife in hand, face pale and slick with fever sweat. He was sick, legs wobbly, but he threw himself between Kraghul and Gribnox.
"Get off him!" Murkfang yelled, slashing wild.
Kraghul was impressed—these two, protecting each other? Goblins usually ran or betrayed. Why fight when death stared back?
The battle was still one-sided. Murkfang was quick for a sick goblin, knife darting like a bee, but fever slowed him. Kraghul blocked the first slash with his gauntlet, metal ringing. Murkfang twisted, aiming for the knee—Kraghul kicked out, boot clipping the goblin's side and sending him spinning. Murkfang hit the ground but rolled up, knife ready.
Gribnox, despite his broken ribs, pushed to his feet with a groan.
"Stand up," Murkfang gasped.
"We take him together," If they were going to die, they were going to die with dignity.
Gribnox nodded, grabbing his spear. They attacked as one—Murkfang low, Gribnox high. Kraghul batted the spear aside with his axe, the force nearly ripping it from Gribnox's hands. Murkfang's knife grazed his thigh, drawing a thin line of blood—close, too close for a sick goblin. Kraghul roared, swinging backhand. The axe haft caught Murkfang in the chest, cracking bone and hurling him into the wall. Gribnox thrust again—Kraghul grabbed the spear, yanked the goblin close, and headbutted him. Gribnox's nose exploded in blood; he dropped, dazed.
Kraghul loomed over them. Both goblins lay broken but defiant, no regrets in their eyes. Brave to the end because their act allowed a few other goblins to escape.
He raised the axe once more, ready to stain his weapon in more blood but it wasn't to be.
Two more figures burst in—Naz and Naruz, axes ready, roaring fury.
"Oh, would you look at that," Kraghul was amused, the thought that orcs could be tamed by goblins was a thought that never crossed his mind but that arrogant smile soon turned to disgust the moment he noticed Naz's bulging stomach.
"Disgusting,"