CHAPTER 48: GREY GOBLIN TRIBE II

Placing all the rewards safely into his inventory, Rhys turned to his bubbly companion with a grin.

"Alright, Puddle. We made some serious progress today. That last battle was intense, huh? But there are still four more strongholds left—so let’s keep moving."

He tightened the straps of his armor and pushed forward, eyes sweeping the shadowed woods ahead. The darkness clung to every tree, but his steps were sure. He knew what signs to watch for now.

Among the ancient roots and crooked trunks, faint markers began to show—scratched into tree bark, etched on stone, or hung from branches as bone charms and sinew-bound symbols. The Grey Goblins, like many goblin tribes, had their own ways of claiming territory.

But they didn’t rely on random junk or just scent trails. No—these goblins used enchanted trail-markers called Totem Marks. Tiny cursed totems placed in secret spots. More than warnings, these marks acted as magical beacons. Anyone sensitive to corrupted mana could follow them straight to the heart of goblin territory.

Rhys spotted one half-buried in moss. He crouched, fingers brushing over the twisted design carved into a rotted tree.

"These Symbols, fortunately are just linear," he murmured. "It’s a path. A straight line to their lair."

He stood. "If there’s a base... there’s a boss."

Without another word, he and Puddle pressed deeper into the cursed forest. The air thickened with every step, stinking of decay and old blood. Twisted trees leaned in from all sides, their limbs curled like claws, watching in silence.

Soon, they reached the second altar site.

Like the first, the setup was grim—an altar soaked in dark magic, encircled by totems and guarded by Grey Goblins. But this time, the defenders were better armed, and the shaman leading them radiated stronger decay magic. His tattered headdress dripped with bone fragments, and his staff crackled with foul energy.

"Another ritual," Rhys whispered. "And they’re stronger than before."

No time for talk. He gave Puddle a signal.

The fight exploded instantly. Rhys slashed through goblins with clean, fast strikes while Puddle launched Light Bullets and healing veils to support him. The shaman collapsed in a burst of black magic—another ritual interrupted, but only just in time.

Then came the third altar... and the fourth.

Each battle followed a similar pattern but grew harder. The goblins fought with desperate fury. Their shamans called on stronger curses, summoned shadow clones, twisted beasts, and spread corruption faster. But Rhys and Puddle kept up. They adapted quickly—faster, sharper, more ruthless with each fight.

They stopped every ritual from reaching its peak, leaving only shattered totems and scorched forest glades behind.

Finally, they arrived at the fifth and final altar.

This one wasn’t just a site—it was a fortress.

Buried in a sunken glade surrounded by jagged, obsidian trees, the clearing pulsed with vile magic. Unlike the other camps, this place radiated dominance. The rings of totems weren’t just ceremonial—they were active. They flared with red and green light, their glyphs pulsing like a heartbeat, defending the ritual with real power.

And standing at the center—

Ghratal the Decay-Eater, Shaman of Decay and Warlord of the Grey Tribes.

He was massive—at least three times the size of a normal goblin. His skin looked like rotting moss, and he wore cloaks made of flayed hides, bones, and crude iron trinkets. Horns twisted from his skull like gnarled roots, and from his back oozed a bloated, pulsing lump that dripped black ichor onto the altar beneath him.

This time, the guards weren’t normal goblins—they were Hobgoblins. Giant, armored brutes armed with rusted cleavers and shields covered in decay runes. Their bloodshot eyes glowed red through iron masks. Each was level 80, elite warriors bred only for war and rot.

The moment Rhys and Puddle stepped into the first totem ring, the ritual flared.

[ Ritual: Deathborn Summoning – 92% ]

[ Ghratal the Decay-Eater – Level 80 – Ritual Conduit Active ]

[ Corruption Barrier Deployed – Reinforcements Blocked ]

"So this is the boss," Rhys muttered as he eyed the floating ritual prompt. "Damn, this one’s nearly complete already."

The previous altars had reached only 50% before being disrupted—but this one was already at 92%.

"Well... we’re fighting either way. He’s not finishing that ritual."

His level had risen to 87 after tearing through the last four camps. His mana surged with awakened energy, and his blade glowed from absorbing the essence of every goblin, shaman, and cursed altar he’d crushed.

Puddle hopped up beside him, glowing brighter than ever—like a tiny sun wrapped in water and shadow. Its body had firmed slightly, flickering with power from all three of its magic affinities: Water, Light, and Dark.

Without hesitation, the two lunged forward.

The battle erupted like wildfire.

Rhys dashed in with Swift Cut, moving like a ghost between enemies. His blade cut like lightning, slicing through the front lines. The Hobgoblins roared and formed ranks, but he triggered Whirlwind Slash, shredding their shield wall in a storm of sparks and gore.

Puddle attacked in perfect sync.

[ Aqua Lance – Critical Hit! ][ Status: Soaked – Defense -25% ]

The lance tore through three enemies and nailed them into the inner totem circle. Before more could react, Puddle followed up with Dark Mist, blinding the enemy and lowering their aim.

"Keep the rest distracted!" Rhys shouted.

He sprinted toward Ghratal, slicing another Hobgoblin apart with Vertical Slash—only to be snagged mid-stride by a rotting chain hurled from the warlord’s corrupted staff.

[ Curse Applied: Rotbind – HP Regen Disabled | Movement -20% ]

Rhys winced as the curse dug in.

He activated Mana Shield just in time to absorb the next wave of decay magic. With gritted teeth, he retaliated—firing a spread of Magic Missiles right into Ghratal’s swollen chest. The blast cracked the altar stones—but the warlord only growled, raising a decayed totem and slamming it into the ground.

A surge of wind laced with rot burst outward.

[ Totem Surge – All Hobgoblins: +25% Attack | +10% Lifesteal ]

Rhys looked at the Grey Hobgoblins, now covered in a red aura, their strength clearly amplified. He just smiled—and activated his own buffs.

"Blessing Boost."

"Warlord’s Command."

Golden and blue light flared from him and Puddle, surrounding them in twin halos of radiant power.

Across the field, Ghratal narrowed his eyes as Rhys stepped forward.

"Did you really think you were the only one with blessings?" Rhys said coldly.

The Decay-Eater snarled.

"Blessing of Rot," he hissed in return, slamming his staff down.