There was no telling what had happened, but one thing was certain—this would affect how the goblins did business. A breach of trust had occurred, and that was the one thing no kingdom dared attempt, because it always carried consequences.
The goblins had once been a menace, infamous for their violence and lust. There was even a myth that a witch had cursed them to face the consequences of their atrocities. But that was just a tale, impossible to prove. Even so, there was no doubt that with this turn of events, things were about to change drastically. Whether for good or ill was still unknown.
Byung had already been informed of the attack, but the only question in his mind was—why did it take so long? He had expected something like this long ago. After all, the goblins were practically defenseless, unable to match the superior weapons and technology of the other races. Drekk's rusty blade was a constant reminder of how outdated their lifestyle was.
They were weak. They were small. Byung had glimpses of the outside world and knew without a doubt—other races lived far better than goblins ever could.
Watching them scramble, Byung noticed how ill-equipped they were to handle the situation. Especially Murkfang. But unlike the others, Murkfang had him.
This was his chance. His moment to make his mark and prove he was more than just the medicine they saw him as.
Murkfang had broken the news to him before rushing off to deal with urgent matters. But not before assigning Byung his role. Unlike the others, he wouldn't be mining.
No. His task was far more important.
Byung was to oversee medicine and its creation, something that could give the goblins an edge. Death had become too common among them, especially under the current circumstances. If Murkfang could prolong their lives, there was hope of meeting their quotas. The rapid death rate had been their greatest setback, draining both manpower and time—two things their inferior tools could not make up for.
That was part of the reason they held the promotion ceremony in the first place—their numbers were dwindling.
Byung couldn't ignore the timing. The attack happened right after his promotion. Was there a connection? If so, he needed to uncover every detail.
Taking a deep breath, he reminded himself that it was unlikely. Still, he had to be prepared—mentally, at the very least.
The door creaked open, and Gribnox entered the room. Byung instantly straightened his posture.
Gribnox looked better than the last time he had seen him. Perhaps it was the faint uplift in his mood.
"Hi, boss," Byung greeted with a friendly smile. He knew Gribnox was still uncertain about him.
"Hello, 402. Have you been given a name yet?" Gribnox asked, his tone surprisingly void of malice.
"Name?" Byung repeated, realizing then that goblins with promotions were given names, while the rest were reduced to numbers. Did that mean everyone in this mine had one?
"Yes," Gribnox nodded, his voice almost reassuring. "Those who earn promotion are no longer just a number."
"That good to hear. Can pick?" Byung asked, tilting his head.
Gribnox blinked, confused. Why would a goblin want to pick his own name when he knew none? This was another sign of Byung's strangeness.
Still, curiosity flickered in his eyes. For the first time, he wanted to see what this goblin would choose for himself.
"And what name would you like?" he asked.
Byung inhaled deeply before answering.
"Byung. I want to be called Byung."
The words startled Gribnox. The name was foreign, unlike any goblin name he had ever heard. It sounded almost… human. Yet Byung was no human.
But Gribnox wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed. He didn't think to connect the dots.
"Byung it is!" Gribnox said with a wide smile.
Byung had misjudged him. Gribnox wasn't what he had expected, and that was a good sign.
A knock at the door broke the moment. Gribnox turned around.
"Who is there?" he called out.
"It is Borkle," came the muffled reply.
Byung couldn't help but smirk. These names sounded ridiculous to him.
"Borkle? What do you want?" Gribnox asked, his tone dismissive.
"Murkfang has asked me to fetch you. You have a guest," Borkle replied.
Gribnox's chest tightened. He hoped it wasn't Drekk. Drekk was terrifying—the one goblin he never wanted to meet face to face. But if there truly was a threat looming over them, there was only one person it could be.
Drekk.
A savage ally, but an ally nonetheless. One of the few goblins who still believed in the old ways—taking what they wanted by force.
"I guess I'll be seeing you around… Byung," Gribnox said before leaving the room.
"Who is here?" Gribnox asked Borkle the moment he stepped out.
Borkle hesitated, then answered nervously.
"It is an orc, sir."
"An orc?" Gribnox repeated, bewildered. No notice had been given. That meant the visit was unplanned.
"Y-Yes, sir. I'm just as surprised…" Borkle admitted.
Gribnox, however, wasn't worried. Murkfang would handle it.
Still, he couldn't help but note that Borkle, despite not being a Baron, was one of the few goblins who spoke properly.