A few minutes later, after passing through the cramped and winding tunnels, Darryl finally arrived at the very bottom of the cave. This underground plaza, only five meters high, was considered a towering construction for the Cave Goblins, who stood barely a meter tall.
Countless Cave Goblins huddled together in this vast underground plaza, trembling with fear. As soon as they saw Darryl burst out of one of the tunnel entrances, chaos erupted.
Each Cave Goblin looked gray-skinned, filthy as if covered in stone dust. Like a flock of sheep suddenly facing a tiger, even the strongest among them was only Level Thirty-Eight.
A group of Cave Goblins recoiled in terror, clearing a wide space in the plaza. A handful of so-called 'powerhouses'—Title Magisters—clutched crude staffs made from beast bones or scavenged materials, nervously watching Darryl.
Darryl glanced around contemptuously at the terrified Cave Goblins, then fixed his gaze on the short-statured spellcasters.
A bunch of weak, filthy creatures—if I wanted, I could wipe out this entire tribe by myself. These idiots waste food even when they're mining. How have they survived this long? And why would that mighty Dragon Lord take an interest in such pathetic things? Is it really just for building a lair?
"Those foolish and arrogant Blood Elves have already been wiped out by the great Dragon Lord. You lucked out—now the great Dragon Lord wants to see you. Who's the chief here? Come with me. Don't make the great Dragon Lord wait too long, you idiots."
As he spoke, Darryl began to unleash his aura—unique to Lizardmen and amplified by his Level Forty strength. It swept across the entire plaza, where nearly every member of the Cave Goblin Tribe had gathered to escape disaster.
Under normal circumstances, unless someone meant to wipe out the tribe, hiding here would be perfectly safe. Those arrogant Blood Elves would never crawl into the cramped tunnels dug by Cave Goblins.
Moreover, this location isn't directly beneath any surface entrances, so even if someone went on a destructive rampage, it wouldn't threaten these people. Unfortunately, the Cave Goblins never expected a Level Forty powerhouse would be willing to crawl through their cramped tunnels and even navigate the maze to find them.
If it weren't for Leon, Darryl wouldn't bother with all this talking—he'd just kill a few to make his point...
Darryl had no idea what Leon wanted with these Cave Goblins, but judging by how he wiped out the Blood Elves without hesitation, he clearly wasn't here to kill the goblins...
Darryl forced himself to say another line, but his patience was wearing thin—the aura was just a threat to keep the Cave Goblins in line.
Sure enough, feeling Darryl's aura and seeing his obvious impatience, the Cave Goblin who'd been wielding a bone staff finally plucked up his courage and stepped forward.
"Great one, I am Gobwin, chief of this tribe. May I ask what you—"
Gobwin had summoned all his courage to ask, trembling. But before he could finish, Darryl grabbed him with one hand—like picking up a toy—and darted into one of the tunnels, vanishing instantly.
Inside the cramped tunnel, Darryl moved like a nimble lizard, speeding along the ground without even brushing the stone walls. Unfortunately, with Gobwin in tow—barely a meter tall—the poor goblin kept bumping and scraping against the sides as they advanced.
By the time they reached the surface, Gobwin was covered in bruises, his skin—usually dull and dust-streaked—now scraped raw in large patches.
Darryl dumped Gobwin on the ground, then stretched his mouth all the way to his ears and stood respectfully to the side.
Just Darryl alone was enough to terrify Gobwin, but now three more powerhouses appeared before him: a red-skinned orc, a woman radiating cold, both emanating a dreadful dragon aura, and the last, whose pure and dense darkness made it hard for Gobwin to breathe.
"Fools, your tribe has been favored by fate—these three great Dragonblood powerhouses have come specifically to find you. Weak and stupid creatures, pledge your loyalty at once, or you'll end up like those arrogant Blood Elves, burned to ashes by Lord Hubert!"
Seeing that Leon and the others didn't speak up right away, Darryl immediately started threatening them viciously.
Whatever the great lord's intentions, if he's come specifically for Cave Goblins—whether to eat them or have them build a lair—it's best to make these fools swear loyalty. No way should the lord himself have to say it.
Judging by Lord Hubert's displeased look, he probably thinks these Cave Goblins are too skinny—no meat at all, not worth eating. He's a little disappointed...
At Darryl's words, Gobwin immediately dropped to the ground in terror, not daring to lift his head.
"Archmage Merlin, why bother with these filthy creatures? Look at them—dirty, skinny, barely any meat. They can't be good eating..."
Hubert muttered in disappointment, sending Gobwin into utter despair, prompting him to shout desperately.
"Great Dragon Lord, humble Gobwin pledges loyalty! It is our honor—we are more than willing to serve!"
Cave Goblins were originally the slaves of dragons—especially the Destruction Black Dragon, who loved having them build lairs. They are the most skilled builders among the races, but their greatest talent is their unique ability to construct powerful magical architecture.
Unfortunately, after the fall of the Nesser Dynasty, these weak creatures lost their protection. It's a miracle they weren't wiped out. Thanks to their digging skills, they've managed to survive underground until now. In such circumstances, being weak and resource-poor, the idea of building any powerful magical architecture is nothing but a fantasy...
It wasn't until mages from Northend World discovered them that these master magical architects slowly gained status. With standing, resources, and a few more strong individuals, they finally had their own territory and could build powerful magical structures.
But in the subterranean world, life was tough for these creatures. Their talent for magical architecture was useless; only their digging skills were widely known. Dangerous mineral veins with rare materials always needed their expertise.
Thousands of years of hardship taught them one thing: never let anyone know about their racial talents. Even showing a bit of their digging skills led to misery—if people discovered their other abilities, they'd all be enslaved in no time.
Originally slaves to dragons, seeing dragons again brought out a primal fear deeply rooted in their blood...
Leon watched Gobwin quietly, honestly a bit disappointed. The Cave Goblins were ugly, sure, but all goblins look alike anyway.
Big heads and big eyes, short bodies, limbs so thin it's like skin stretched over bone. The differences between goblin races aren't that significant.
This Cave Goblin doesn't look like a master of magical architecture at all—more like a slave foreman in a mine. At least, that's how it seems, and Leon was a bit puzzled.
Could these creatures have hidden their abilities so well that, over time, they've completely forgotten them? Or has the knowledge already been lost?
Wait, that's not right. When Cave Goblins show up in the future, they only seem a bit out of practice. With enough materials and time to train, it doesn't take long for them to rediscover their talents.
Most of the Cave Goblins' abilities come from innate talent, with only a small part relying on inherited knowledge. Their gift for magical architecture is almost like a second limb—give them the knowledge, and any Cave Goblin can build basic magical structures. The clever ones, with enough materials and practice, could advance from apprentice to creator level in just a year...
Leon worried that the Cave Goblins' knowledge inheritance had been lost. But suddenly, he noticed the goblin's wrist—there was a layer of tough skin, the same color as the rest. If the goblin hadn't turned his hand just so, Leon would have missed it.
Seeing this, Leon smiled faintly. Only Cave Goblins who've recently worked on magical architecture have this—it's a bodily instinct to protect their fragile hands. That means the knowledge inheritance hasn't been lost.
As chief of a Cave Goblin tribe, if his knowledge inheritance remains intact, then the tribe's inheritance is safe too.
"Can you build a magic watchtower?"
Leon suddenly asked. Gobwin's huge eyes nearly popped out of his head; he trembled on the ground, utterly hopeless.
Gobwin didn't answer. Darryl immediately became furious, his forked tongue flicking and battle aura flaring. He raised his hand, ready to slap Gobwin, but hesitated—afraid he might kill him by accident.
"Stupid wretch, Archmage Merlin is asking you a question and you dare not answer! Weak fool, I could kill ten of you with one slap!"
Gobwin didn't answer, but when he lifted his head just a little, he realized he hadn't been beaten, and his fear eased—if only slightly.
"I need your tribe's help to build a special magical structure. I know your knowledge inheritance is intact, so don't worry about the things you're afraid of.
Let me ask again: can you build a magic watchtower?"
Gobwin drooped his head and nodded.
"We can. With the materials we have, we can only manage a magic watchtower—there's one right here."
With that, Gobwin walked over and infused a bit of magic into a stone less than half a meter tall. Patterns appeared on its surface, and in moments, the stone transformed into a miniature magic watchtower—less than a meter high, looking just like a toy version of the real thing.
Leon had been standing here for ages and hadn't noticed there was a magic watchtower less than a hundred meters away. At such a small size, if it didn't emit any magical waves, it looked just like an ordinary stone—and there were plenty of stones that size in these mountains.
Runes flashed in Leon's eyes as he instantly analyzed the magic watchtower. The construction was extremely simple, unable to send alerts on its own—it had to be manually activated to transmit warnings.
But even with such crude materials and methods, once the Cave Goblins' racial talent was added, it became something special. At this distance, Leon hadn't noticed the disguised, half-meter-high watchtower at all.
Aside from the Cave Goblins, probably no other creature would pay attention to what looked like an ordinary stone...
With knowledge inheritance, enough materials, and practice, Gobwin would definitely become a true master of magical architecture—on par with a creator, at least in this field. Their knowledge and research might not reach that level, but the magical structures they make certainly do.
"Swear loyalty to me, and no one will ever harm you again. No one will force you to mine in dangerous places. And you'll have enough food—so much that none of your tribe will ever have to work for it again."
Leon’s eyes, hidden behind the dark mist, narrowed with a faint smile. As he spoke, he waved his hand, and bags of grain appeared out of thin air, piling into a five-meter-high mound.
Gobwin was utterly stunned when the mound appeared. He scrambled to his feet and dove greedily onto the pile, sniffing the grain like a hunting dog, his devotion as fervent as a pilgrim.
Then Leon took out a spatial ring and tossed it to Gobwin.
"This spatial ring is yours. Inside are ten thousand bags of grain—eight different varieties."
Gobwin stared blankly at the spatial ring, seeing countless bags of grain inside. He was completely stunned, counting for several minutes without finishing, unable to comprehend it all.
Clutching the spatial ring, Gobwin’s ugly face twisted with emotion. Then, moving like lightning, he dashed into one of the cave entrances. Seconds later, he reappeared, packed all the grain into the ring, and vanished into another tunnel.
Shuban didn’t react much—a pile of grain was nothing. In Northend World, a thousand purple gold coins could buy that much. The Gilded Rose even owned farms; in places unsuitable for magic crops, you could easily plant food over dozens of kilometers. For mages, this stuff was worthless.
In Odin Kingdom, even the poorest commoner never goes hungry. Forget pledging to a mage—just serving a swordsman apprentice, a few purple gold coins from his pocket could feed hundreds of people.