CHAPTER 518: NO MORE MERCY

‘Ikit’ the goblin turned out to be a wealth of information. His geographic descriptions were exact enough it actually filled in some outlines in Mason’s Wayfinder power; his knowledge of the demonic forces was like a professional scout. At least of the common creatures.

Who ‘Ikit’ was to the goblin tribes he carefully avoided saying. But he was more than happy to tell Mason all about the ‘Razor mountains’.

“Shit, I didn’t know a special dungeon would mean a damn lecture from a goblin.” Becky sat on a rock with her chin in her hands. “Can’t we go kill somethin’ while we wait?”

“No.” Mason met the goblin’s eyes. “Tell me again about this king and his bargain. How did he bring these creatures?”

“Can’t say for sure,” Ikit said carefully. “But King makes bargain with demon. Uses crystal. Talking crystal, mined from mountain with demon voices. Soon it tells king what to do. Very stupid.”

Some sort of artifact, Mason assumed. Or at least a powerful item. But he wasn’t all that thrilled. There was no way it was a good idea to actually keep it. He’d seen what ‘demon items’ did for you when he saw one choke Blake to death in the arena. Hopefully it wasn’t the dungeon reward.

“So he’s still in his throne room, still king. Where are the actual goblins? And will we have to kill them?”

“Guards, yes.” Ikit shrugged like this didn’t bother him. “Maybe king’s court. Ikit cannot say. But other goblins beneath mountain. Mining and farming and hiding. In tunnels. Demons won’t let them up.”

Mason glanced at his restless players and decided he’d heard enough. If Ikit was telling him the truth, they could move through the narrow tunnels and bypass most of the demons, sneaking straight into the throne room through a servant entrance.

It was verging on too good to be true. But Mason’s Wayfinder filling in was lending a lot of weight to the story. And he didn’t see an obvious reason for the creature to lie. Goblins were greedy, cowardly, and ambitious—a human killer making Ikit king was just the sort of thing that made sense. He couldn’t imagine what the demons would offer it.

“Alright,” he said, standing and wishing he had Haley here to help him make some formal contract. But she’d said no civilians in a ‘raid’. “You might as well come with us, Ikit. Show me the way.”

Ikit blinked and shook his head furiously. “No, no. Can’t be seen. If humans fail, Ikit will be killed. And…” he shrugged, like his logic should be obvious, “goblins respect…deception. Best not to be seen. Best to triumph in shadows.”

Carl and Phuong both glared, giving Mason a ‘let’s force him’ kind of look. Maybe it was his Lord of Goblins title, or his general lack of fear, but Mason didn’t feel the same. In fact, it was oddly comforting—just the kind of thing he’d expected. You could usually predict what a coward would do.

“I assume you’ll still be watching.” Mason smiled with his fangs and leaned down close enough the goblin pulled back. “But there’s no chance of us failing, Ikit. I am Mason Wolf, and this is fun for me. Trick me, trap or ambush me, it’s not going to matter. I’ll kill them all. And then no demon or god will save you. Do you understand? Look in my eyes, Ikit. I’m immortal. And I’ll hunt you until the day you die.”

The goblin looked between Mason’s glowing green pupils and blinked, his delicious fear wafting like cooking meat. Mason closed his eyes and breathed it in, which doubled the scent. And maybe added a little urine.

“N-no trick,” said the goblin. “Ikit wouldn’t dare. You’ll see. Friends. Good friends.”

Mason smiled and reached out a clawed hand, making the goblin flinch. He patted him on the head, then turned to his players.

“This way.”

Without another word of explanation, he turned and followed his Wayfinder into the dark.

**

“I can’t see a damn thing,” Becky complained for the third or fourth time. Mason sighed and gestured at the Irish caster, then realized the man couldn’t see the gesture.

“Some light, please, Seamus. But don’t overdo it.”

He’d wanted to avoid it, instead moving the players in single file all holding each other behind him. Even his eyes found the goblin tunnels dim and grey, but they were built well and the ground was mostly flat.

“Aye aye, chiefy.”

The fire mage’s power flickered like a torch, and everyone squinted but visibly relaxed in the dull orange glow. When nothing growled or exploded, Mason started moving again.

All along the tunnels they found discarded bits and pieces of goblin life. Buckets, vendor stands, rags, rotting food and discarded tools. It seemed the goblins had left in a hurry, which meant they’d probably been ‘invaded’ much like humans with abyssal portals.

But nothing attacked them. They wound their way through Mason’s map, once or twice having to stop while he figured out some three dimensional puzzle. When they got closer they started to hear noises ahead, and a bit of light that wasn’t Seamus’ glowed from holes in the floor and walls.

“It’s a dumbwaiter,” Seamus said fiddling with some device on the wall. “You see?” He pulled a handle that moved a metal tray down a hole. “Shite, I haven’t seen one of those except in the Dublin castle. Or like in them old hotels. Must be near the fancy goblins now, gents.”

Mason nodded, inspecting the hole. It was too narrow to get through, though the idea of dropping some of Tommaso’s or Rosa’s acid occurred to him. It likely wasn’t worth the effort.

He moved on and followed Ikit’s map directions, finally dropping down to a kitchen that reeked of rotten food. A single, fat goblin stood at a counter chopping away. He turned as Mason and a dozen players all came strolling through, mouth hanging open as he stared.

“Don’t mind us,” Mason said, gesturing for John. The big man crackled with power, and the goblin took a breath to shriek before getting stunned into oblivion. Mason picked him up and set him on the counter, glancing down the small tunnel to the light and noise beyond.

“Mason the Merciful,” Carl said, shaking his head. “Sparing goblins. What’s the apocalypse coming to.”

“There’s our king’s court,” Mason said, frowning as he glanced at only his stealth class. “Feel like taking a walk?”

“Thought you’d never ask.” Carl wiped a hand across his scalp, nudging his way through the others as he moved ahead.

“Not far,” Mason warned. “Just enough to get a look. They might be able to smell or hear you, so move slow and…”

“You know I have done this before,” Carl said, winking out of existence. Mason sighed and gestured, trying not to worry. He and the others waited in the small, hot kitchen, listening to the stunned goblin snore.

“Still better than killing him,” Mason whispered. “He’d probably have shit himself.”

It was pretty dark humor, but then they’d spent most of the day killing demons from hell. At least a few people chuckled.

Mason heard Carl’s footsteps and smelled him before he re-appeared. He was moving slow and careful and not sprinting in panic, so that was a good sign. But when he popped out next to the wall, his skin was paler than a minute before. He looked lost in thought, staring a mile away before focusing.

“You look like you saw a ghost in there,” Mason said, still trying to lighten the mood.

Carl’s jaw clenched and he shook his head.

“They got, uh, prisoners. Shit, kid, I’m not sure what I saw. I’d have to go in further. But there’s demons everywhere, it’s a huge hall with tabards and drapes blocking off sections. There’s fake trees and bushes. A bunch of goblins dressed like…animals. Corpses just left there rotting. I think the king and his people are…” he swallowed. “There’s musicians in the back. It’s like a feast. I think they’re hunting and eating their own people.”

Mason nodded, putting the horror of that from his mind. For the moment there was only numbers, positions, primary threats. Carl did his best to describe the demons he’d seen, which sounded like bigger versions of the ‘soldier’ types they’d fought already.

Infernals seemed more uniform than abyssals. They had humanoid bodies and used weapons or claws, usually with one ‘animalistic’ piece like wings or beastial legs.

Mason turned to the others and took a breath.

“There’s no demon ‘leader’ yet. I think this goblin king is just a puppet, but maybe if we kill him it’ll still do the trick. Any objections?”

“Only that this ‘Ikit’ is very keen for us to do just that,” Phuong said. Mason nodded, not objecting to the logic. But he also didn’t see what else they could do. And whatever was going on in that room sure bought the leader a one way ticket to his new, demon-friend’s home.

“I think we avoid getting cute or fancy.” He shrugged. “I think we go in together, stay tight, unleash with range and kill everything that gets close. We slaughter our way to this king, and put him down unless the system interrupts.”

“Pretty much the most Mason plan ever Masoned,” Carl said, and a few players laughed.

“I can’t be both a verb and an adjective. And if you have a better idea I’m open to it.”

“Nope. Love the plan.” Carl glanced at the others. “Can we, you know, buff or something? Buffing is a thing in raids. The sorta thing Seul-ki does. Are you more useful than bubbles yet, Alex?”

“I assume you don’t mean polish ourselves,” Mason said. “Use standard English for the non-nerds.”

Carl rolled his eyes. “I mean stuff like your Strength of the Pack. Maybe Demi has something?”

A few eyes turned her way, and Mason winced as he saw her freeze.

“I…” she blinked and swallowed. “Yes. But, not now. I mean. It’s better…it’s in the moment.”

“I make tougher.” Alex shrugged. “Thought best not to say. Maybe make bad habits.”

Carl snorted, and even Phuong cracked with more than a polite smile. Mason actually looked at his Strength of the Pack and was surprised to see it listed who it was affecting. Apparently their hastily made ‘groups’ were recognized by the system. Mason was giving (very) weak versions of his innate powers to the members of his group, but not the others.

“We might want to re-think group make up for next time,” he said. “I’m guessing your thing only works on your ‘group’, Alex. At least that’s how mine works.”

The Belarusian nodded, and Mason tried not to be annoyed with himself for not figuring out the mechanic sooner. He was pretty sure they couldn’t change it now. But some kind of ‘close combat group’ likely made sense.

“OK,” he said, taking the time to summon Streak at the far end of the kitchen. Even so the huge wolf squished people forward. “I want all melee spread out in a line with the ranged behind. Pick a wall and move to it, killing at will. I’ll roam and find this king and call it out. Then you push to me. Got it?”

Phuong nodded, and Mason slapped a clawed hand on his shoulder.

“No more mercy,” he said, tone serious again. “I don’t want mistakes getting people hurt. Kill anything that gets close.”

With that he walked down the tunnel, summoning his bow. He intended to sprint through so fast they didn’t know what the hell was happening. Wherever this ‘king’ was, and whatever demon controlled him, he didn’t want either getting away.

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