Chapter 41: The Deepwater Conspiracy

The lightning bolt had come from the second floor. The culprit who had so rudely murdered the glowing gem was particularly conspicuous—a man dressed in black, standing out among the short, green goblins like a wolf in a sheep pen. He was sturdily built, wearing a hooded cloak, and in his hand was a white bone staff crafted from whalebone, a thin wisp of blue, crackling smoke still curling from its tip.

“I never thought I’d actually be waiting for you, Your Highness, the Princess of Salem City,” he said, his accent thick and unpleasant.

“An assassin from Deepwater City?” Liz, after a moment of pure, wide-eyed panic, forced herself to calm down, instinctively moving a little further away from the poet Disha, who was also from Deepwater City. “Have you no shame? To think you would resort to such cowardly tactics!”

“I hear your father is a bit… unreasonable, so I hope you will cooperate with our investigation. I’ll give you two simple choices. One, lay down your weapons, and everyone can leave here safely. Two—”

Swish!

The poet Disha, with a lazy, bored smile, cut him off with a well-aimed arrow. It was a successful, and very satisfying, sneak attack. The arrow accurately pierced the man's dark hood. The man in black cried out in pain, clutching the arrow that was now sticking out of his face. A second arrow followed immediately.

But this time, Disha wasn’t so lucky. A shimmering curtain of water instantly surrounded the man in black, and the arrow lost its aim, clattering uselessly to the ground.

Everyone looked at the poet Disha strangely. He just shrugged. “What? Why do we have to listen to his whole boring speech? This isn’t a novel.”

“Kill them all! Leave the woman with the chestnut hair alive!”

An angry, and now pained, male voice came from above.

“I will protect you,” the red-haired Strong said, looking at Liz with deep, unwavering affection. He limped forward heroically and, in a theatrical, recitative tone, continued, “For my beloved, I will never yield! You will have to step over my cold, dead body!”

Gima felt goosebumps all over her body. Liz, however, remained completely and utterly expressionless. The poet Disha put down his shortbow, picked up his lute, and strummed a beautiful, tragic melody. “We really should go into theater, and become famous throughout the entire continent.”

Gima was already starting to seriously regret coming along. What a bunch of dramatic, incompetent misfits.

“Listen to me! Stab them to death!”

A goblin with a heavy black iron collar around its neck shouted, pointing a clawed finger at them.

“Shoot! Shoot!”

The goblins jumped around excitedly, drawing their crude bows and loosing a volley of arrows. In an instant, a ragged cloud of arrows flew towards them in a chaotic, disorganized mess.

Gima quickly hid behind a thick stone pillar. The arrows hit the stone with a sharp, pattering sound.

The excited, high-pitched, and bloodthirsty cries of the goblins surged towards them. These cowardly and despicable creatures, once they realized they had the advantage of numbers, were filled with an unshakeable courage and an insatiable bloodlust.

But Gima wasn’t worried at all. Because she had her personal, multi-purpose tool, George.

Sure enough, after just a moment, the excited screams of the goblins disappeared, replaced by all sorts of pathetic, gurgling wails. Gima peeked her head out from behind the pillar and saw George taking the lead, chasing after the scattering goblins, cutting them down left and right with an almost bored efficiency.

The two-handed greatsword that Strong had mocked as “only good for flourishing” was incredibly, terrifyingly nimble in George’s hands. With a single, fluid downward slash, he split a goblin’s small shield and the goblin itself in two. The greatsword cut through the horde like a hot knife through butter, carving a bloody path through the goblin ranks.

A goblin ducked down, muttering to itself, “You can’t see me, you can’t see me,” and quietly tried to sneak up on George. In theory, George, wearing his vision-restricting bucket-helm, shouldn’t have been able to see it. But just as the goblin leaped up and charged at George, he swung his sword upwards in a casual, almost lazy arc. The goblin’s ragged armor shattered, and a deep, bone-exposing wound was plowed into its upper body. It fell to the ground, quite dead.

“Shoot! Shoot him dead!”

The goblin archers on the second floor shot indiscriminately, not caring if they hit friend or foe.

The crude arrows landed on George’s heavy armor, making only a pathetic, tinkling sound. He was bathed in a rain of arrows, yet not a single scratch was left on his armor.

The goblins who had been surrounding George scattered in a blind panic, fleeing in all directions.

Liz’s blue eyes sparkled as she watched, her gaze fixed on George’s magnificent, heroic form. The red-haired Strong, meanwhile, found that his protagonist role had been completely and utterly stolen. He hadn’t even managed to kill a single goblin.

George chased after the fleeing goblins, seemingly forgetting how treacherous and cunning these creatures were.

“Come and get me, you big oaf!” a goblin taunted, throwing a rock that bounced harmlessly off George’s helmet. It patted its grimy butt and ran, its feet sinking slightly into a patch of soft ground.

The red-haired Strong was about to shout a warning, but then he caught a glimpse of Liz’s admiring, star-struck gaze fixed on George. A powerful surge of jealousy welled up in him, and he clamped his mouth shut.

George chased after the goblin. As he stepped on the ground, it suddenly gave way. It was a trap, a pitfall that could only bear the weight of a single goblin. But George didn’t fall in. He simply lifted his foot and pulled it back before the ground could collapse completely.

“Haha! Come and get me, slowpoke!”

The goblin continued to mock him, not realizing its impending doom.

George simply kicked the corpse of a nearby goblin on the ground, sending it flying through the air. It smashed into the taunting goblin’s face, sending it crashing into the cave wall with a wet smack. By the time it had scrambled to its feet, George was standing in front of it. He raised his sword and brought it down.

“That is... so amazing!”

Liz’s heart, which had been in her throat, finally settled back into her chest. The red-haired Strong’s face grew even uglier.

Gima saw that George was about to go up to the second floor and finish the job, thereby ending her fun little adventure. She muttered to herself, “Well, that was a boring and unsatisfying face-slapping.”

Just then, with a strange, terrifying roar that sounded like a mix between a bird and a bear, Gima was startled. She was suddenly, vividly reminded of a deep, and very painful, psychological trauma. “An Owlbear?!”

A goblin beastmaster came out of a side cave, leading a giant bear. The bear was almost as tall as George, over four meters long, and as large as four warhorses. It moved like a mountain of rippling flesh and muscle. As it reached the cave entrance, the firelight fell on its face. The Owlbear’s face was strange, like a giant, predatory owl’s, with a massive yellow beak that could easily bite through a steel sword. It was a notoriously bad-tempered magical beast, a grotesque hybrid created by some unknown, and probably quite insane, mage. It had thick, tough skin and an incredibly strong body. A single swipe of its massive, clawed paw could instantly kill a fully barded warhorse.

Gima had experienced its terrifying power before. Her arm had been broken, and she had been left with a deep, and very real, psychological scar.

The battlefield fell silent for a moment. All five of them stared at the suddenly appearing Owlbear. The goblin beastmaster looked incredibly smug. He pointed at them and ordered, “Good boy! Kill those heroes! Quick, quick!”

But the beak, which was larger than its own head, turned towards the goblin beastmaster. The goblin beastmaster shouted, “You idiot! I said them, not me! Uh… I was wrong, it’s not me!”

The Owlbear opened its mouth, and its hard, powerful beak directly crushed the goblin beastmaster’s head like a grape. With a flick of its head, it threw the headless corpse of the goblin beastmaster to the ground and charged straight at the five of them, with George taking the brunt of the attack.

“Be careful!”

Liz raised her metal staff with one hand, the tip shining brightly. With a wave, a blazing white star was thrown at the Owlbear, disappearing into its thick brown fur, only raising a small, pathetic wisp of blue smoke.

The Owlbear grew even more ferocious and let out a deafening roar. The poet Disha’s arrows stuck in its thick fur, but the Owlbear completely ignored them and charged at George, the arrows falling out on their own.

Gima was so scared she quickly ducked her head back, looking at the ground, trying to figure out how to best blend in with the pile of goblin corpses and play dead.

Aren’t they trying to kidnap Liz? Is releasing an Owlbear supposed to silence us? Kidnappers should act like kidnappers! This is just unprofessional!

“If that long-haired girl is injured, I’ll peel your skin off!”

The angry male voice came from above.

The Owlbear’s roar was deafening. Gima secretly peeked her head out and saw that there was already a bloody gash on the Owlbear’s shoulder. It disregarded all defense and swiped its massive paw at George. George’s sword couldn’t stop the powerful blow, and he was hit squarely on the pauldron.

George was sent flying as if hit by a small car, rolling several times on the ground before he came to a stop.

Gima’s heart leaped into her throat. That blow probably broke all of his bones.

George immediately, and impossibly, stood up, looking a little disheveled. Miraculously, he was able to stand, and his pauldron didn’t even have a noticeable dent.

It must be another one of his absurd Paladin class supernatural abilities.

But strength alone was not enough to defeat an Owlbear. And if George used his more powerful supernatural abilities, his identity would be exposed. Then they would have to kill everyone here to silence them.

Gima subconsciously moved away from her teammates, so she wouldn’t be taken hostage when the inevitable killing started.

The Owlbear pounced at George, but he unhesitatingly turned and ran.

My brother! Now is the time to use that glorious Sacred Smite you used to kill me with! What if the Owlbear decides to chase after me and gives me a little slap?

Gima anxiously clenched her fists, hiding most of her body behind a pillar.

“I’ll do it!”

The red-haired Strong rushed forward, holding a short spear. The Owlbear casually swiped its paw, hitting his shield. With a terrifying bang, the shield’s strap broke, the wooden shield split into a thousand pieces, and the red-haired Strong staggered back a few steps and fell to the ground.

The Owlbear roared at the red-haired Strong and was about to pounce.

A goblin corpse suddenly smashed into its face. The Owlbear turned its head and saw George.

George held his sword with both hands, the hilt parallel to his helmet, in a ready stance. The Owlbear shrieked and charged at George, the corpses in its path flying left and right.

George had no room to retreat. He planned to face the terrifying Owlbear head-on. The Owlbear took a step back and stood up on its hind legs. Its head was almost as high as the second floor. It raised its heavy paws with their sharp black claws and pounced at George.

But suddenly, the Owlbear’s hind leg sank into the ground.

It was a goblin trap! George had cleverly maneuvered the beast behind the goblin traps.

The Owlbear momentarily lost its balance. George easily dodged its paws, moved forward, and plunged the tip of his sword deep into the Owlbear’s heart. With a powerful thrust, the Owlbear let out a pained, gurgling howl. Gima felt her own chest ache just watching.

George kicked the Owlbear, deflecting its dying pounce, and then delivered several vicious slashes to its neck, severing its massive head, which was too big for even a burly man to wrap his arms around.

“So amazing!” 

Liz cried out in surprise, patting her not-so-small chest and breathing a sigh of relief, her blue eyes fixed on George. She completely ignored Strong, who was struggling to get up in front of her. In her eyes, George seemed more and more majestic, like a legendary dragon-slaying hero from an old oil painting.

The thought that such a brave and magnificent Bartonian knight was fighting for her filled Liz’s heart with a thrilling excitement.

Gima breathed a sigh of relief. She looked at the dazed Strong, who had just climbed up from the ground, and thought about what cool, witty lines she could say to rub it in.

Online, urgently seeking advice: what can I say now that is both cool and not abrupt?

Just then, the ground began to tremble violently. Under her feet, it was as if the sea were roaring.

“You are all very brave…” the man in black said, leaning weakly against the railing, cold sweat dripping from his chin. “But utterly useless. I have a backup plan. Just now, I—”

Swish.

Another arrow cut him off. It pierced through the water curtain, slightly off-course, and stuck in the man in black’s shoulder.

“Fuck! Can’t you just let me finish my monologue?! Die!”

Like an earthquake, the ground began to shake and crack.

Liz’s high-pitched scream tortured Gima’s ears, making her covered them while running towards the second floor. She saw the red-haired Strong pulling the stunned Liz. George was running towards her, but a wide crack suddenly appeared in the ground between them.

One crack, ten cracks, a hundred cracks. The ground was instantly covered in a spiderweb of deep fissures and began to collapse.

A sickening feeling of weightlessness hit Gima. She screamed in terror, covered her head with her hands, and fell with the rubble and dust into the darkness below.

“Gima!”

Then, the deafening roar of falling rocks completely drowned out George’s voice.