CHAPTER 96: A SPECTATOR?!

’Is he stupid or what? Are all of them like this?’

Rae pressed a palm to his face with a weary sigh.

What had he just said?

And what in all hells was this idiot doing now?

It was a simple sentence—a very simple sentence—and Gear had managed to butcher it into total nonsense.

’What the hell, man...’

Rae just shook his head. Honestly, there wasn’t much point in cursing this fool any further.

He dropped his hand and let out a slow, deadly exhale.

"My dear Gear, if you don’t put that spear down right now, I am going to shove it so deep in your ass you’ll finally understand what a thorough anal session feels like."

No matter how absurd this was, he still needed to stay in character.

He hoped, really hoped, that would do the trick.

Gear’s eyes went wide. He yelped and immediately lowered the spear, chuckling in a strangled, embarrassed little croak.

"I—I was just making sure it was still my liege and not some random magician swapping places."

"But... hearing your words, I now know it’s you."

Rae lifted an eyebrow, lips twitching despite himself.

’Not bad... not bad.’

Maybe he wasn’t as stupid as he looked. Which was good—mostly.

But also... not so good. Rae made a mental note to keep his guard up.

Because if he ever slipped, he had no doubt Gear would be the first to jam that spear straight up where the sun didn’t shine.

"This... it’s a slave goblin from the hero party, right? Are you... inhibiting his body?"

Gear squinted at him, but there was no real suspicion left in his eyes.

He’d seen enough to believe just about anything his liege claimed. Even this.

"Yes, that’s right."

Rae crossed his arms with deliberate solemnity.

"Until my physical body recovers, I have decided to... inhibit this feeble vessel."

"Possession..."

Gear breathed, his expression going almost reverent.

"I’ve only heard about that in legends. But to think my liege has mastered it... Outstanding. Truly outstanding."

He nodded to himself, puffing out his scrawny chest in pride, as if he personally deserved some of the credit.

"Yeah... eh... possession magic," Rae muttered, forcing a thin smile. "Just like you said."

Gods, he needed this conversation to end.

The longer they stood here, the higher the risk he’d say something that would unravel the whole ruse.

Overhead, a branch shifted, something rustling through the leaves.

Neither of them so much as looked up. After all, they were deep in the forest—trees were going to sway whether he wanted them to or not.

"When did you...?"

Gear asked, voice hushed like he was afraid to disrupt the moment.

"Eh... shortly after they defeated me..."

Rae said with a casual shrug.

"But no matter. I have penetrated the camp of heroes."

"I will know exactly when they plan to move... and where they plan to strike. And more than that..."

A slow, wicked grin unfurled across his face as he rubbed his hands together with theatrical glee.

Gear leaned in, practically vibrating with anticipation, eyes wide.

He could feel it—another bomb of sheer goblin brilliance was about to drop.

"More than that, I could corrupt the women from the inside... make them addicted to me."

"He he he... That way, I can destroy them all without raising a single finger."

?!

Gear’s heart started thumping like a war drum. His breaths came short and ragged.

’This is it.’

This was the Goblin King of legend.

The nightmare he’d heard whispered about since he was a hatchling.

The monster who sowed catastrophe and chaos wherever he set foot.

’So cool.’

Even stripped of his physical body, his liege was doing everything in his power to win this war.

Even now, he’d infiltrated the hero party—become one of their own, earned their trust, and was plotting their ruin from the inside.

Indeed, his liege was cool.

But something gnawed at him, chewing right through the edges of his excitement.

Something dark and heavy and bitter.

He was...sad. And useless.

Gear looked down, shaking his head slowly, like he could rattle the feeling out if he tried hard enough.

It didn’t work.

It just sat there in his chest, a lump of lead he couldn’t swallow.

He’d thought, really thought, that he was doing something good for his people.

That giving them the bulk of his darkness, the essence that was meant to make him the strongest, was a noble sacrifice.

That sharing a piece of himself so the others could taste even a drop of real power was enough.

But no. No, apparently, that wasn’t nearly enough.

Meanwhile, his liege—his supposedly half-dead, comatose liege—was out here performing feats of cunning that made everything Gear had done look like a child’s clumsy scribble.

’Like come on...’

’This guy literally infiltrated the heart of the hero party.’

’He’s collecting secrets. He’s planting seeds of betrayal like it’s just another Tuesday.’

Wasn’t that the greatest feat imaginable?

The kind of legend bards would weep to sing about?

Gear’s throat tightened.

He clenched his spear in both hands, knuckles going pale.

’I’m not doing enough. I have to do more.’

Rae frowned at the stupid goblin, watching him mope like a kicked puppy.

He knew exactly what this idiot was feeling—he could practically taste the self-pity rolling off him.

He almost, almost lifted a hand to offer a comforting pat on the shoulder.

But at his current height, there was a very real risk that hand would land somewhere...unfortunate.

And he absolutely did not want that.

So he settled for words.

"Feeling worthless is fine," he said coolly, "but doing nothing to improve is far worse."

Gear looked up—well, technically looked down—at his shrunken liege, eyes wide.

’Wow.’

Rae thought, surprised at his own conviction.

’That came out harder than I expected.’

Honestly, he was a little proud of himself. That sounded almost leader-like.

’I really hope I’m not about to sabotage everything by motivating this moron too much, he thought darkly.’

Because if Gear got too fired up, if he started rushing whatever half-baked scheme he was planning, there was a real chance he’d blow up the entire operation.

And Rae did not want that.

He had plans. Beautiful, depraved, castle-sized plans.

A big stone fortress filled to the brim with soft, worshipful women—bimbos, milfs, furries, succubi, you name it—tending to his every need until the end of time.

’Is that really so much to ask?’

"But I... I’ve had all these months and never done anything as significant as you."

Gear mumbled, voice thick with shame.

"Gear, my boys..."

Rae said, dropping his tone into something deep and reassuring.

"it’s because I knew you would look after my people that I was able to freely do all this stuff."

"M-my liege..."

Gear’s eyes started glistening like he was about to start bawling in earnest.

"If I thought for even a second that my people didn’t have someone to protect them..."

Rae went on, gesturing grandly with his small hand.

"I would’ve dropped everything."

"I would’ve abandoned the infiltration and come back here immediately."

"And if that had happened, we’d all be screwed six ways to Sunday."

He leaned forward, expression solemn.

"So don’t feel sad, Gear. You’ve done well. So well that I haven’t had to worry about my people at all."

Sniff—sniff—

Gear’s big green nose started running as he teared up, shoulders trembling.

Rae kept going, piling it on while he was at it.

"Stand proud, son. You’ve earned it."

"And because you’ve been such a good general, holding my fort, keeping everything in line, I’m going to give you one more gift, besides that stinky panty."

Gear blinked down at him, lips quivering.

"W-what is it, my liege?"

Rae smiled, the kind of smile that promised secrets and trouble in equal measure.

"Come around the tent tonight. You’ll see my progress for yourself."

"B-but the shield around the tent?"

Gear stammered, wiping his dripping nose with the back of his wrist.

Rae’s smile only widened, slow and sly.

"You don’t have to come inside the shield. Just find yourself a nice vantage point in the trees, all right?"

...

’Wh-what the hell is going on?!’

High above in the branches, a certain someone was clinging to a thick limb, his heart banging around like it was trying to punch through his ribs.

His face was twisted into an expression halfway between terror and... something else.

Something much more unhinged.

’Th-that goblin is the Goblin King???’

The excitement was so intense he was practically vibrating.

Literally—he was shaking the entire branch with how hard he was gripping it, and the branch swayed wildly beneath him like it was about to snap.

He tried hugging it tighter, but it didn’t help one damn bit.

His knees still wobbled.

’Why did he tell that young goblin to come to the tents tonight?’

’What’s in there? What’s he planning?’

He swallowed hard, pulse hammering in his throat.

One thing was certain—whatever it was, he absolutely could not miss it.

He stayed plastered to that branch, sweating and twitching, long after the two goblins wandered off in opposite directions.

Only when a good half hour had passed, and his limbs were so numb he couldn’t feel them anymore, did he finally dare to climb back down.

Even then, he was shaking. From fear. From curiosity.

And from the thrill of witnessing something he knew was going to be... monumental.