I wanted to leave the entryway as soon as possible but, instead, Poniard wanted to dig around the bodies of the fallen monsters. When I first saw it doing this, I thought it was because it had witnessed my team doing some light looting. However, when it started eating a slime's core with gusto I was already too late to stop it.
While it was eating I collected the rest of the slime cores myself. Much to my surprise, when it found there were no slime cores to eat it started ripping open the body of the goblin he had killed. When I saw Poniard only targeted his kill, I did not have the heart to stop him. Despite this I still followed him, wary that my goblin would try to eat the other goblin's core.
Thankfully, Poniard only started eating the other goblin's heart. So, when he looked toward the other goblin bodies and then at me with his long pointed ears hanging low I could only wave my gun at him to go on. I could only holster the weapon and turn away.
Poniard has always been a fast eater, but I thought digging out the other hearts would take him a second. Instead, when I turned back around, he was sawing the poniard through the team leader's leather armor. At first, I did not care because the body was literally trash, but then I thought of the repercussions of letting it eat human flesh.
Since this goblin would eventually be my training assistant for other goblins, I not only wanted to make him as strong as possible but also see how intelligent and obedient he was. I never said not to eat the human's heart, so one heart missing was my fault, but if he went for the heart of one of the one's I killed it would show he enjoyed the food enough to disregard his own natural chain of command. I would have to scrap him into a leather and bone hood for my poncho.
Never did I think I would ever feel so relieved as when Poniard finished the larger human heart and then contentedly burped some blood bubbles while licking his fingers. He showed no interest in the other two bodies at all as he retrieved his poniard and wiped it clean as I had carefully taught him to. Without needing to be told to.
At this point I was pretty darn sure that Poniard was probably special among goblins. Maybe his quick adaptation to life on my side of the portals could be attributed to how young he was, but his quick uptake of fighting and general intelligence had to come from somewhere else. I mean, the ogre leading them was immature but still D in grade which was fairly uncommon for E portals. At full maturation, the ogre could have potentially reached C.
Maybe Poniard just had good breeding, but I was feeling more and more satisfied with the only goblin of its generation to not be dead or in a kennel right now. If I was in a position to have kept more of the goblins, I could be making some decent money right now. However, there was still plenty of time for that.
Even with this in mind, I could not help but wonder at the affinity for eating hearts. I had never seen goblins make fresh kills without getting killed soon after, so I had no idea of a kill claiming at all. I had never even heard about it, so maybe goblins were not usually allowed to damage the bodies in dungeons?
Larger bodies were the preference, as well, so it could also be a difference between mountain and forest goblins. Although, the slime core consumption was also a surprise. Maybe it was all just a part of how these creatures naturally grew stronger? I would have no way of knowing until the next time I measured Poniard tomorrow when Lucinda gets home.
The next group we encountered were the same numbers and distribution as before in an area of rocky niches covering the walls. This was probably where most of the goblins slept. Unlike last time by the entrance, though, I led the charge with an ivory sword to test the blade Johnathan had tried to sing praises about when I finally got to see him again.
Just as he assured me, despite the lack of weight the weapon was insanely sharp and strong. A goblin thrusting its spear at me lost an arm from right below the bicep to a quick slash of the weapon. The next goblin only got about two inches of the fine point of the triangular weapon not unlike the poniard, but those two inches of point were whipped blade-first across its throat.
Even with its thick skin, sudden spurt of thick fluids that almost reached the ceiling confirmed the opening of an artery. I simply kneed the goblin in the face to lift it off the ground and back down a few yards away by the slow slimes. Then, as the last goblin was running toward me with a pair of slate hatchets, I whipped around and kicked out my heel.
Like a scene in a cheap movie, the brittle metamorphic stone heading the weapons exploded into one big cloud of two small dust and debris sources. The goblin was not very tall to begin with, so I did not even have to raise my leg that much for the kick. Once it was disarmed and disarrayed by the shower of dust and debris in its face, I simply kicked the goblin back and away to the wall of the tunnel where Poniard was standing by.
Not missing the opportunity, Poniard kicks the mountain goblin to the ground once it comes within reach like a passed ball before drawing his hatchets. It seemed like Poniard did not think he even needed his poniard to deal with this goblin. While my goblin dealt with that one, I turned back around to practice my serving kicks on the incoming slimes.
When everything was said and done, I waited until after Poniard was done with his goblin before continuing on to the end of the tunnel. This was the only proper chamber or cavern in this cave, so this was probably where a large group of low-level enemies are waiting or a small group of slightly stronger enemies. Despite my concerns, it was still a weak group.
There were three trollkin and five slimes, all estimated to be around E grade. They were the 'boss' of this dungeon. I decided, as they finally took notice of me walking into the dim light of a three-foot upper E mana crystal off to one side of the chamber, that the goblin would get to eat one of each heart AFTER we left the dungeon.
Disregarding the potential value of the bones, I put two sets of bullets into each trollkin torso before letting Poniard fight it out with the larger slimes.
Because this was an F grade dungeons, even the trollkin tusks were probably the same level as Poniard or lower. Still, I collected the tusks and removed the head to bathe in the mucus of deflated slime sacs for cleaning the skulls. Then Poniard and I spent an hour waiting on the skulls just basking in the upper E ambiance of the mana crystal.
When we finally left the lower F grade dungeon we found the entire scene at the entrance had been cleaned up as if nothing even happened. There was actually some high grade slime left in the creases of the floor and walls, but otherwise there were no signs of anything unusual at all. The van driver did a really good job and I no longer wanted to ride home.
However, I braced myself for whatever I might face on the other side of the portal with one hand on my revolver and the other only loosely holding Poniard's leash. Once I stepped into the light of day an hour-and-a-half after entering the portal, though, there was nobody outside but the van driver smoking a cigarette while leaning against the van. "I thought you'd be fast," he remarks with a short bark of a laugh while flicking his cigarette aside. "Get in."
Knowing I would probably end up a fugitive or something if I did not get in the van, I went up to the sliding passenger door and opened it. For a few seconds, I actually expected to see some trash bags. Instead, in the middle row seat were three folded bundles of leather armor and weapons.
For now, I just ignored them and sat in the front row with Poniard like I did on the ride here. After starting up the van and pulling away from the curb, the driver says, "Not only the director but a lot of us in the Bureau would like the extend our appreciation for what you've done. With magic and science still so far apart, we cannot collect evidence in a dungeon in most cases. However, even if we can't get a case on it, it doesn't take a rocket surgeon to know what they did."
"I don't want to talk about it," I say blankly, not meeting the dark blue eyes that suddenly flicked in my direction in the van's large rear view mirror.
"You're young and you did it for your own reasons, I get that," the man says at length. "Report to the director's office at five in the morning three days from now, for your own reasons. Take the trash with you when you go, and… don't let… this… get to you," he finishes more awkwardly than I would have imagined.
Considering the way it seemed like he was actually trying to reach out to me, I think I learned a few things. One, I would probably not die the same day as the people I killed. Two, this guy was probably experienced at these kinds of things and had his own issues to deal with. Lastly, this was probably not going to be the only job I did for the director.
Getting the awkward atmosphere feeling that said I should probably say something, I quite awkwardly say, "Thank you, sir." It was not like I was going to complain. Between the sets of three people, even with one upper body armor ruined, the weapons and other belongings would bring in around a hundred thousand dollars.
I could start looking for a kennel property with the money from the 'trash' in the middle seat.
When we finally got back to the house I stuffed Poniards park with the armor and hide the four swords and other weapons about the inside of my coat. Only then did I gratefully nod to the driver for not leaving me exposed to the neighborhood while working out my questionably legal loot and then walked to the house. Lucinda, thank God, was busy in the kitchen and barely noticed our arrival accept to call out a greeting.
I simply said I was a mess and ran downstairs to hide the loot in the basement before sharing a shower with Poniard. Once we were both dressed in clean workout clothes, we both went back upstairs. I cleared out some of the furniture for Poniard to practice another swordplay video entire and then quietly got on my game. The bros were on and playing a different game, but once they saw me online after a few minutes my phone started going off.
The bros wanted to open a private server four the game we played together and test out each others' skills. In a private server, there were none of the hoard events or wars in a normal server and certain editing or landscaping options were available. However, this could be turned on or off at will.
Since I was desperate for a distraction from the delusional paranoid belief that Lucinda would find out what happened and murder me, I was all for the private server. The challenge for everyone was to spend three days of peace find a place and crafting up everything we could with our profile skills. After that, it was time to seek each other out.
Knowing the kids, I spent the entire first day and night collecting common and uncommon resources while trekking towards a salvage site. I made a few weapons along the way and, after killing a few critters, eventually a bow for hunting and fishing. When I arrived there earlier in the morning, I ignored fatigue needs and started hashing out some basic armor and metal weapons.
Once I was armed I found a good tree and used a ton of vines to make a cradle or nest in which to rest my character. Even though the character was asleep, I could still look around and stuff while the fatigue bar was filling up. As I expected, only an hour or two after I went to sleep one of the bros showed up to do some wreckage salvage. This site was where a fight took place instead of one of the story impacts, and the aliens won so there was mostly only human wreckage here.
I was just a little more familiar with the map than they were. After an 'hour' of watching the little bro loot his way toward my tree, I woke my character and jumped down off to their side while screaming into the mic. A not so primitive weapon like a slate throwing knife or star suddenly whizzed by my character when the bro screamed in surprise and used a currently equipped ranged attack.
"You didn't even hit me," I chastise him sadly, turning my character around to walk away and steal the weapon before going off to another area to loot while the bro was angrily arguing with nobody about how the three-day rule was still in effect and I could not attack him. He was the one who threw a knife at me!
After coming to realize they would not find anything they want in this area, especially because I was already there, the bro spent a couple hours making basic equipment before heading out. I was already half of the way through piecing together a makeshift shotgun. He probably took whatever gun parts he could find to keep me from them, but I was not worried because my crafting levels were high enough to compensate.
By the time I went back to sleep in relative privacy, I already had a completed double-barrel that needed to be reloaded after firing. With a few parts and upgrades, it could soon become a regular pump. Then, when I awoke, I left in the opposite direction of the bro toward another location where I might find the loot I needed. The direction he took led to distant impact sites.
At night of the second day I arrived at a leveled township of some sort. Even after the place was wrecked a military camp tried to start up here but was wiped by aliens and looters afterward. Now, it was mostly a place for vehicle parts and scrap metal but there was usually still some decent parts or supplies randomly generated here.
Honestly, as much as the others talked about seeking each other out I knew better. If I did not follow the one bro and kill him as soon as the grace period was over, then three people instead of two would come looking for me first. However, that meant I could find somewhere to just sit and wait.
The first thing I did after scouring the entire place for everything of value was to build a bike and cart before hiding it. Then I worked on upgrading my shotgun into a single-barrel pump before setting up a basic perimeter in the front area of town opposite where I hide the bike and cart. Once I had a space for myself wired off with some branches for posts, I set to work constructing a basic wooden cottage shelter with my vast collection of supplies.
Then I built a proper wall around my one-acre property of would wood and clay while building work stations. This took up most of the third day with sleeping, but once I was fully rested I set to work refining materials and upgrading to a 'light masonry cottage'. Then I spent all night gathering up all the rubble I could to smash into a weak concrete mix.
By the time my fatigue was half empty from all of the work it was morning again and I had set up some sheet metal siding to the outer wall. When the cement was done sifting and mixing with two car motor generators that were already low on gas, I started pouring the cement between the sheet metal and wooden wall now covered in random metal objects for pegs. I slept after using the last of my gas on the generators to wait while the walls dry and more materials are ready.
Contrary to my original beliefs, one of the bros killed another bro while my character was resting and started spectating everyone. As soon as he saw me sleeping in a two bedroom rock walled house with eight feet of surrounding walls on a grass stuff mattress, he started ratting me out to the others. They all started calling me a camper and laughing at me so I could only honestly argue that I thought they would all be coming for me first and then fight it out to dance on my body.
They assured me that they would come find me in the next game.
*