Chapter 42: A Demon Lord's True Colors

Falling, tumbling, her back finally slammed into a hard, unforgiving rock, bringing her to a jarring stop.

Pain, pain, pain… my horn hit my hand, my back is killing me, everything hurts!

Gima grimaced, slowly moving her arm away from her head. Her limbs ached, as did her back. Her young, delicate body could no longer stand.

She wasn't in a hurry to get up. First, she did what any good Demon Lord would do in a disaster: she observed her surroundings.

She was in a pitch-black, damp cave. The ground was wet, and the air was filled with the thick, cloying smell of seawater. Far ahead, there was a large, gaping hole in the ceiling of the cave, with a faint, flickering firelight trickling in. She had just fallen from that hole, tumbling into this winding, subterranean cave. It was most likely the result of a ritual prepared in advance by that beyonder she'd seen earlier. He was probably some kind of “Tide-Caller.”

The rumbling of falling rocks gradually subsided. From time to time, small pebbles would fall near Gima. She found that she had rolled into a pile of sharp rubble, far from the main collapse. She had probably, and quite fortunately, been separated from the damn virgin.

Gima tried to stand up again. A more intense, searing pain shot through her, and her small body lost all its strength.

Never mind. I’ll just hide here and take a nap. It’ll be fine once the virgin kills them all and comes to find me.

As soon as the thought arose, she heard the clamor of guttural, chittering goblin voices.

A group of goblin silhouettes appeared at the edge of the hole in the ceiling, quickly and expertly sliding down ropes.

Gima held her breath. The underground cave was winding and complex. They wouldn't necessarily find her.

Just then, the excited shout of a goblin came from a distance. “Here! I smell it here! The sweet, sweet smell of the long-legged woman!”

Before long, a group of goblins climbed over the rocks, heading directly in Gima’s direction.

Damn it! I forgot about my natural, alluring succubus body fragrance.

Gima almost cursed out loud. Her small hand trembled. She still couldn’t stand up. She suddenly remembered that she had a precious healing potion on her, one that George had bought. This kind of potion, imbued with potent supernatural power, was especially expensive, but now it came in handy.

She immediately took a small leather waterskin from her belt and drank it all in one go. A warm current spread from her stomach, and the pain in her body immediately subsided a great deal.

But the sound of the goblins was getting closer. She could already smell their foul, unwashed stench.

She quickly scrambled to her feet. A sharp pain shot through her right ankle, as if someone were biting it with their sharp teeth. She gritted her teeth, stood up, and stumbled through a group of broken stalagmites, hoping the continuing sound of falling rocks would cover her own.

The further away from the hole she got, the dimmer the light became. She had only just turned a corner in the winding cave when a thick, oppressive darkness enveloped her. The only trace of light came from the torch in the hands of the goblins, now less than twenty meters behind her.

Fortunately, Gima could see in the dark.

She blinked, and the outlines of the stalagmites and the cave gradually appeared before her. There was no color, only shades of black and white.

“The smell is here! The woman is very close!”

“Shut up, you dumbass! You’ll scare her away!”

An extremely excited voice came from right behind her, almost bumping into her back. She panicked. They’re that close already! Although she could see in the dark, her foot was now lame, and she had no more healing potions. In at most another minute, she would be captured by a group of filthy, disgusting goblins.

And she was not their kidnapping target. Knowing the depraved nature of goblins, they would absolutely be delighted to… play with her little body.

What do I do? What do I do?!

Gima leaned against the cave wall and limped forward. The cave became wider, and a narrow upward slope appeared in front of her, leading to a natural high platform. She touched the gold coins in her pocket, and a brilliant, and very wicked idea came to her.

Gima quickly threw her backpack on the ground, took out the heavy money pouch inside, opened it, and scattered the brand-new, glittering gold coins on top of the bag, making them as visible and as tempting as possible.

The sound of the goblins running over the gravel behind her grew closer. Gima, ignoring the searing pain in her ankle, half-ran, half-crawled up the slope and lay down among the stalagmites on the high platform, desperately trying to blend her small body into the outline of the stalagmite forest.

Just as she lay down, a faint firelight appeared from around the corner, dyeing the black and white cave with a touch of hellish color.

The goblins ran over, holding their torches high. Gima counted them. One, two, three… a full twenty-something of them. The wide cave instantly became crowded and suffocating.

“The smell is getting stronger.”

A scrawny goblin lay on the ground, sniffing the air like a dog. A jewel-encrusted short sword was tucked into its waist. Gima recognized it at a glance. It was the same treacherous goblin that had led the red-haired Strong earlier. It looked up and said, its voice full of glee, “She’s nearby!”

So close that Gima could see the individual nose hairs and the firelight reflected in its beady red eyes.

The goblins raised their torches high, their gazes sweeping everywhere. Gima quickly narrowed her eyes and pulled her cloak down lower, trying to disappear into the shadows.

“Huh?”

Some of the goblins had already noticed the fresh footprints in the dirt on the slope and turned their greedy gaze towards the stalagmite forest on the high platform.

Gima slowly closed her eyes, able only to pray that the heavens, or more likely the abyss, would help her.

Suddenly, a sharp, piercing cry sounded.

“Gold! It’s gold! GOLD!”

Gima quickly opened her eyes and saw all the goblins scrambling to surround her backpack. The gold coins gave off an irresistible, hypnotic glow in the firelight.

She breathed a quiet sigh of relief. As long as they take the bait, it’s fine.

“I saw it first! It’s all mine!”

A goblin shouted, pouncing on the backpack. Instantly, the other goblins also pounced, fighting over the backpack like a pack of wild dogs. It was torn back and forth, and the contents—rations, potions, and of course, gold—fell to the ground.

The scene was pure, unadulterated chaos, until one goblin shouted:

“We still have to chase the woman! If we don’t catch her, we’ll all be fed to the bear!”

Almost all the goblins shuddered at the thought and stopped fighting.

“Let’s take the gold and go catch the woman first,” some of the goblins suggested, trying to be rational.

Material possessions would not get Gima out of this predicament, and she knew it well. But at the same time, as a former Demon Lord who had ruled over a hundred goblin tribes, Gima knew the true nature of these little monsters very well. In academic terms, it was called chaotic evil. They only chose to band together because they were weak and pathetic.

At the same time, goblins had a super-strong, almost terrifying reproductive ability. The population of a goblin tribe would soon exceed the limit of their food supply. All goblins vaguely, instinctively understood that the more of their kind there were, the more likely they were to go hungry. Many goblins chose to strike first, secretly stabbing their companions to death in their sleep to reduce the competition.

They did not, under any circumstances, trust each other.

Gima knew exactly how to use their nature against them. She opened her Eyes of Desire. In her eyes, the desires from the goblins’ chests floated out, forming seven intertwined and distinct colored clouds above their heads. Among them, the blue cloud symbolizing greed was by far the most prominent, with the other, lesser clouds circling around it like pathetic little moons.

Gima flicked her finger at the blue cloud, again and again. The blue cloud, as if being pumped with air, expanded with each flick.

The red light in the goblins’ eyes flared with a mad intensity. One goblin snatched Gima’s backpack from its companion’s arms and shouted, “Let me carry it!”

At the same time, its scrawny little hand couldn’t help but reach into the backpack and give the money pouch a greedy squeeze. The sound of the clinking gold coins was like a lit match, igniting a raging inferno of greed in their tiny, wicked hearts.

“I’m stronger! I’ll carry it!”

Another goblin shouted, yanking at the backpack. Suddenly, its body shuddered. It looked down with wide, red eyes at the short spear sticking out of its lower back. The goblin who had just stabbed it pulled the spear out and shouted the sentiment of every single goblin present: “MY GOLD!”

The first goblin collapsed to the ground. Above him, short spears crisscrossed, stabbing into each other with a wet, tearing sound. The goblins descended into a bloody, chaotic free-for-all. Whenever one of them was injured and fell to the ground, its nearby companions would, without exception, immediately swarm it and kill it.

Good. Good. These are the goblins I know and love.

Gima breathed a sigh of relief, a small, cold smile on her face. She turned over, picked up the hand crossbow she had placed beside her, and with the thumb ring she wore, strained to draw the heavy string. After it was loaded, she continued to observe the bloody spectacle below.

The infighting was nearing its end. A wide circle of goblin corpses now lay on the ground. This "gold rush" had only three contestants left. They stared at each other, panting, their bloody weapons held tightly in their hands.

No one dared to make a move.

Of these three goblins, only one was injured, and he was the scrawniest of the lot. It was the same treacherous goblin that had deceived Strong earlier. He held a bloody, jewel-encrusted short sword in his hand. It was thanks to the advantage of this superior weapon that he had successfully survived to the bloody finals.

The other two uninjured goblins both turned their gazes on him. They had reached a tacit, unspoken understanding: kill the injured one first.

The scrawny goblin brandished the sharp short sword in his hand and shouted, “This thing has already killed eight of you! Whoever tries to kill me, I’ll stab them! I’ll stab them to death!”

Instantly, the other two goblins looked away. Neither of them wanted to make it easy for the other, but both of them still wanted the gold.

“We’ll split it. One share for each of us.”

“Fine. Then we drop our weapons.” A greedy gaze fell on the short sword in the scrawny goblin’s hand.

“No!”

The latter shrieked in terror.

The scene was once again at a stalemate. Fortunately, the kind-hearted Gima was present. Otherwise, who knows how long these greedy little monsters would have remained at a tense, and very boring, standstill.

She carefully aimed at the scrawny goblin, but just then, another, smarter goblin said:

“If someone else comes, we’ll have nothing.”

As soon as the words left its mouth, Gima pulled the trigger, and a crossbow bolt pierced its chest. The next moment, a short spear and a short sword stabbed in from the left and right simultaneously. It died on the spot and fell to the ground, the bolt in its chest trembling slightly.

"Enemies!?"

Only then did they notice the ambush. But with a quick incitement from Gima, greed instantly overcame reason. The scrawny goblin reacted first, stabbing its companion in the neck with a short sword. Once, twice, killing it directly.

"My gold, my precious gold," it shouted.

A second crossbow bolt struck it in the back. It yelped in pain, rolled over, and lay motionless.

Gima stood up from the high platform and limped towards it, holding a cocked hand crossbow. She said, "Get up, little monster. I know you're playing dead."

The scrawny goblin "came back to life." It stood up, holding the short sword, and raised its hands. Thanks to its ragged leather armor, the last bolt hadn't killed it, not that Gima expected much from the hand crossbow's power.

Facing the crossbow, the goblin's legs trembled. Tears streamed from the corners of its eyes as it pleaded in a whimpering voice, "Hero, please, spare my life. I... I can carry the gold for you. I'll throw my sword to you right now."

At the same time, the muscles in its arm tensed, preparing to throw the short sword the moment Gima let her guard down, then bend down, pick up the short spear in front of it, and charge.

Gima nodded, admitting to herself that she did need a laborer to carry the backpack.

She pulled the trigger. The bolt sank into the scrawny goblin's stomach. Its eyes widened as it heard Gima's explanation:

"I only told you to get up for a better shot, idiot."