Chapter 28: 26- Farewell

*Squii!*

A stone built hamster ring squeaked, under the strain of being rapidly spinned. Not by the hamster but a goblin with a crooked ear. 

Bounded to the wall on a stone bar, protruding out of it. Lifting the wheel off the ground, makes it spin at the fixed place. As it pulled a thick belt -made of many dried monster hides- with it, wrapped on its circumference and attached to a small grindstone just behind.

*Squii!*

"Ghaa…" Huffing and puffing for air in between his relentless run, The crooked-ear inevitably slowed down a little bit… just a bit. 

"Harry! What are you doing? Run faster. You aren't going to be the fastest goblin alive like this" 

And came the expected motivational speech from behind. Even though Harry didn't understand what the Hero Prince had said, he did understand the Hero Prince was asking for his contribution to the upcoming war they may encounter on their journey to the home. 

The Leader with a uselessly big sword had explained to him, that the world will be becoming too hostile in the next few… hours. Or was it days? He doesn't remember. But he did remember that they had to reach the safety of home or else the tides of big monsters, they had seen before, will soon reach this place and eat him alive. 

And so, he pulls his legs forward, pushing the wheel faster and faster. Keeping the grindstone running at full throttle. 

*zzziiiii!*

As The Bone Carpenter works on his last piece on the grindstone, sparks fly out with some fine bone fragments in the air. 

The title [Bone-carpenter] wasn't just for show, it gives a 20 percent bonus perception whenever Oscar focused solely on bones. And add the skill effects of [ButchererLv7], which wasn't just limited to cutting meat out of bones nor the natural intuition for identifying parts he needs the most, the maintenance and adjustment of sharp tools. He gets the perfect combination for making cutting edge bone tools. 

After a lot of grinding and fine tuning the butcher's knife. Oscar got the sharpest and strongest dagger he had ever made. And it all thanks to that little Harry's hard work, who had been powering the wheel continuously. 

"Fuuu!" Gently blowing the white dust off, Oscar cleans his masterpiece. An eerie milky white, double edged, dagger with the blade in a wavy shape of a slithering snake, and a spotless-white firm handle for gripping, carved out from a single piece of sturdy bone, rests before his eyes. Looking rather majestic, and befitting for an otherworldly Prince to make his presence known among the peasants with it. 

Yes, he didn't make it to fight some monsters, but to show off.

If the information Jazz had told him was true, then there's a well-organized goblin tribe of a rather big size, dwells within the 1st Echelon, or the level just below here. 

Oscar didn't want to join them from the lowest level of hierarchy, and so, he decided to go with the plan of acting as their Prince for some days, accessing all the knowledge they have, before running away to the surface. He too didn't want to be caged in here. He's already sick of seeing a ceiling above his head, walls to his each side- restricting him in choosing a specific direction each time.

"It's good" Lightly cutting his thumb, he admired its sharpness. And gently knocking on its blade, hearing the dull vibration, he admired its sturdiness. Just then a prompt popped up to the side, seemingly congratulating him for his hard work. 

"Whites Bane," Said the creator with adoration. 

'That was too blunt of a description…' he would have complained more, if not for the next prompt pulling his attention, accompanied by a cold sensation enveloping his brain, making him feel relax like never before, and some increment in his INT by points. 

It's been days since it has been upgraded. He had been focusing too much on procuring the materials from monsters, and experimenting on a rather big project, that he almost neglected his training in weapon making. After all, a butcher is nothing without the tools. And no, his claws doesn't counts, a butcher should also maintain some hygiene… which is why he always cleans the knives after every use by licking it clean. 

"Ghaaa!" 

Hearing the painful groan and an equally painful thud! The hungry Prince stopped licking his teeth clean and came back to the present, and saw the Fastest goblin is barely alive. Laying on the ground, heaving for air, the green-flash looks too worked up and tired, but still tries to stand back wobbly.

"Good job kid, here's ya today's payment" 

Throwing a piece of meat, and a blood soup. Oscar moved to supervise the other goblins packing his belongings and to beat any green-kid who dared to slack off on his watch. Thanking the Hell for not imposing the child labor law in a dungeon. Or else, he would be the first in line to rot in jail… 

                                                                

*Thud!*

Dropping a recently hunted gigantic head of an ugly frog monster on top of the pile, Jazz the Hob-Goblin, glanced at the mismash of monsters working on a single project with such unity that would bring any adventurer to shame. 

A goblin gripped a 1m long bone in an upright position, another one respectfully picked the Bone-pecker and asked it to drill some holes at the already marked places; after barely surviving its assault, the goblin had learned to never underestimate a bat. 

Meanwhile, a small two tailed squirrel was busy chewing on bones, turning them into hollow pipes, for a bored goblin worker to stuff an elongated processed muscle through it; effectively churning out biodegradable mana cables without rest. 

Two four-armed baby monkeys, standing at either side of a spike-wood log, pull and push the crosscut saw in a rhythm. Seemingly looking like a pair of hard-working woodcutters working over a log slowly and steadily, if one would ignore their occasional tug of war, that is. 

A palm size furry ball, hopping on its single leg, blows a breath of flame and powers the furnace, burning and hardening the clay vomited by the ground-turtle in their group. And to the left was its variant brother, a dangerous  ball of 1inch long and hard as steel like hairs, resting and munching on a mountain of meat to grow more hairs as a pitiful goblin -riddled with holes- was plucking it from behind and passing it to the others. A monster with hands for a hammer, punched these nails into the adjacent sides of two wooden boards -joining them- guided by the two goblins with the initial aim of making a wooden cuboid without a roof. 

From an outsider's view, it would be too much of a hodgepodge and they might not be able to tell what they're making, or are they even making anything at all. But the monsters working and the monsters overseeing it knows what they're doing -somewhat- and they all have one goal in mind: to make something that will save them all in these waves, at least in theory provided by the child exploiter of a goblin. 

'And it's all thanks to the Prince charisma' thought the fan hob-goblin, completely ignoring the number of beatings and traumatic experiences these monsters had gone through to work with one goal in mind- avoid getting beaten again, and do what their master has asked them to do. 

The design was artistic, the structure was simple yet never seen before, the line-up was complex but articulated in such a way that even some bloodthirsty monsters could put together, and the components were too easy to procure that one might outright scoff if that would even work but the maker, the creator, the Almighty Prince was someone who's known for doing things never seen, nor done before by anyone. And so, he has complete confidence that the project will work…somehow. 

Stopping himself from admiring the work of wonder-in-making, Jazz picked up his greatsword and started making his way to the Prince cave above through the dangerously narrow path, formed along the walls, and shaped in a zig-zag motion. Since he couldn't climb as well as the Monkey Prince himself.

Climbing on the stairs, and slowly gaining height with each sharp turn. Jazz turned to look at the change of environment that happened on this side of the cavern, over the past few days. 

The first was the ever-increasing number of monsters. Either born from this side of the wall or coming from a distance, away from their birthplace as it got populated by the more, newly spawned, stronger beasts. 

The second was the thick mana veins, encasing each and every place, occasionally releasing shimmering blue snowflakes, enshrouding the cavern in a magical blue mist. And with it came the swirling vortexes of brilliant light, as the early signs of monster spawn, opening on the ceiling and the walls.

And the last, but the most obvious point would be the upcoming clash of the existing monsters against the new ones -both the spawned and the migrating ones- over the rule of the domain. No beast would back down, and leave their only home even if they have to die fighting for it. 

Jazz too would die for his tribe, if someone 

came knocking on their doors to occupy their home just because they have lost their own to someone else.

But even if they defeated the migrating ones, the newly spawned ones would likely be more stronger and vicious; hence creating the one-way cycle of monsters pushing other monsters to keep going onwards till they start spewing out of the dungeon. Only to get killed by the well-prepared adventurers at the door. 

Jazz had seen and readed in the tribal records of the strategy to escape by making use of the overflow failing every time at the last step because of adventurers.

Controlling his anger, Jazz focused on the vortexes and got worried, because. 

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The longer the vortex took time to push the monster out, the stronger the monster would be. It's a piece of common knowledge for each Hob-Goblin, tasked to gather the newborns from each strata. And also the reason why Jazz was worried, since the walls he's walking on were already riddled with it…Causing him to pick the pace, and to inform the Prince to depart from here as early as possible. 

                                                              

"And here…this would be the last…" 

Dropping a bundle of monster cores over the newborn to pass down through the small lift, recently installed recycling his bungee rope at the edge of the platform. Oscar, the up-and-coming Prince, turned around to find his loyal retainer was standing beside him, staring hatefully at those cores, and barely stopping himself from destroying them on the spot. 

"Jazz, you do understand these monster cores are innocent and they aren't even alive in the first place right?" 

Asked the goblin, subtly bribing the newborn with a leg piece, nudging him to pull the lever faster and drop the cores down as fast as he could.

"I know… My Prince… but I couldn't… stop myself… from hating… these… balls of corruption" Taking a deep breath, Jazzy the hob-y reigned his anger.

"Look… buddy, I also hate these monster cores" Mostly because of the jealousy against the privileged mana monsters and the indignation against the racist dungeon, unlike the genuine concern Jazz had for his race. 

"But these are nothing but parts of a lifeless dead body. it's us goblins, who consume willingly and shed the goblin-hood, after letting it corrupt our pure gene too much" Said the Prince while patting the angry hob-goblin, bigger and stronger than him. 

'How awkward…' Naturally, Oscar would prefer to console some beautiful women rather than a big hob-goblin that smells horrible… or was it him who smelled horrible, he couldn't tell. It's hard to draw the line when they both haven't washed from the day they were born.

'Surely, there would be some virgin female goblins in the tribe right?' 

Thought the lecherous Prince, with an equally lecherous smile. Unaware of his species' first and foremost feature. A male-only race. He would only get more virgin brothers in his tribe.

"Moreover, as you had told me before, there's a 50-50 chance of it blending with our genes, rather than our genes blending with it right. So, it's all their own fault for failing to get hold over a simple ball"

Actually, it would be more like 1:1:1 chance for a goblin to either turn into a variant goblin who can use magic, predetermined by the type of monster core they consumed. Or a goblin to simply transform into the exact species the consumed monster core belonged to, turning them against their own blood for the reason left unsaid; for example, the twin green kobolds chasing after them a few days ago. 

Something in their blood rejected the very presence of the species they formerly belonged to, making them extremely hostile to them. And the kobolds being the kobolds, welcomed any brother in their tribe just because they are kobolds, a true species of brotherhood, unlike goblins.

And the last option for the goblin daring enough to consume a monster core is… get blasted to bits and pieces. Caused by the mana overload, as the goblins aren't the species of mana, this result would likely to come true the stronger the monster core and the amount of mana it has.

"And soon, I will also bond with such core. Don't tell me, you think I will also fail in the process?" 

"No!… My Prince… you can't fail… moreover… yours… is a holy crystal… unlike these… balls of… corruption… only a… shaman can… bond with it… with this… ease"

"So you're saying, I can't fail, not because of my strength but because I choose an easy way out?" With a raised brow, the Prince asked with subtle anger. Causing the servant, 10+Lv higher than himself, to panic. 

"Definitely Not!... My Prince… I was saying… that your… strength is too much… and no balls… stood… a chance… against you… corrupted or not"

"Hmmm. The way you worded it is definitely not appropriate, but I will let this slide for once in consideration for your attempt to guide me in the path of immor-greatness" Said the haughty young Prince, having a cave as the only asset. 

Refusing to remember the shock, when he got to know what this so-called holy crystal actually was: The purified monster core, with a clean slate. 

As in, with no metaphorical guards protecting it from being accessed by any outsiders and with no predefined product (magic) as a response for everything. It's a clean and pure mana core with the only function of churning out mana, into the material world, and make it accessible by anyone with an aptitude of being a mage or shaman (a.k.a the monster mage) molding it into any type of magic with the use of spells and enough practice. Unlike the ones who bonded or are born with a mysterious monster core and limited to one type of magic.

'And I have ignorantly passed such, holy crystal away from me without a thought… dammit!' Cursed the idiot goblin. 

Inevitably remembering that giant obsidian orb, he had stolen from that Rat King only to leave somewhere away from him, just because he thought he had enough Mana stones to play around with human-made spell orbs. He felt like slapping himself twice, for making such a stupid decision at that time. 

But it's no use crying over spilled blood soup. Moreover, Oscar is going to correct his mistake soon by retaking that obsidian orb firstly with him to the new home before bonding with it, finally becoming a shaman and continue creating mana imbued traps as his current obsession.

"Ah… But… you may… have to be… careful… My Prince… against other… goblins…" Jazz, the guide, gives his final advice. Explaining the dangers of being a shaman in a tribe of treacherous goblins. 

As any monster could gain new spells, practiced by a shaman in its whole life, just by eating the heart of a shaman from their own species and becoming a shaman themselves. It increases the number of enemies a monster-mage would face in its journey, either from the outside or the inside; hence, they would either become a leader of their tribe, or simply a delicious meal to feast upon.

"The what?!" 

Oscar felt a sudden chill, hearing some exemplar stories of the elders backstabbing each other just to raise their mage level by eating the hearts of their peers. Or most often than not, killing the young goblin monster-mage without remorse, just because they aren't under any elders protection. 

"Enough…" Stopping the Hob-Goblin from telling him more horror stories, Oscar rubbed his forehead. Having second thoughts on this trip that suddenly felt more like he's jumping into the jaws of hungry beasts, he heard the Hob-Goblin trying to reassure him with a buzzing voice in his head. 

"Don't worry… My Prince… you're our savior… the elders will… beat any one… who dared… to disobey you… and… most of all… you have me… I will kill… any goblin… who dared to… show fangs'' 

Patting his chest, the Hob-Goblin revealed his own hungry and sharp fangs… 

"Why am I suddenly feeling the world is safe no more?" 

Taking a step back slightly, Oscar eyed him more suspiciously. But the Hob-Goblin without humour didn't understand what the Prince said, as seen by the slight tilt of his head. 

"Sigh… Anyways, we're getting late" 

The mana veins have now crept inside of the cave, taking a hold at every place. Releasing the mist, made of magic snowflakes leisurely. 

The now empty and abandoned cave looks more desolate, worthy of the name 'Ghost cave' given by the now grown-up goblin, ready to leave his home. Standing at the entrance, Oscar gives his final farewell. Remembering the early days; when he was small, he still is, when he was weak, which hasn't changed, when he was a virgin, no comments, when he was nothing but a goblin without aim and a runaway thief eager to take refuge in a warm cave. And now here he stood, a self-appointed Prince, nothing like his previous self, at least he believes so. 

"I will be going then, take care everyone" 

Waving his hands around emotionally. The now, not-so lonely-goblin gives the final farewell to his longal-lasting friends- the collection of wall-mounted heads, which They all just stared at him with dead eyes as reply, like any other day. Except for a single monkey-head secretly poked out its tongue… or more like it would, if not for the Oscar already pulling out its tongue before. He too didn't like getting spooked again and again.

"Sayonara!" 

With one final shout. Oscar climbs onto the small lift and cuts the emergency rope, making him descend in style. While the rope strains the temporary bar atop the cave, bearing the brunt of his weight for the last time. 

Leaving behind the lone Hob-Goblin to climb down… on foot. 

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