Luke was crouched by the riverbank, carefully shaping a mound of clay into a sturdy brick, when a wet splat interrupted his focus. He froze, feeling the cold, sticky substance slide down his face. Slowly, he reached up and wiped the clay from his eyes, his expression darkening as he turned to see Grut standing a few feet away, grinning from ear to ear.
The older goblin slapped his own butt in a mocking gesture, his laughter echoing across the riverbank. "Lok hit face! Lok hit face!" he taunted, clearly pleased with himself.
Luke's eye twitched. He stood up, brushing the clay off his hands. "Alright," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "Now you've done it."
Grut's grin faltered for a moment, but before he could react, Luke bent down and scooped up a massive ball of clay. The goblins nearby stopped their own antics, their eyes widening as they realized what was about to happen.
"Uh-oh," Zog muttered, ducking behind Rok.
Luke hurled the clay ball with all his strength. It flew through the air like a cannonball, smacking Grut square in the chest with a satisfying thud. The force of the impact sent the older goblin stumbling backward, his arms flailing as he tried to keep his balance. He landed flat on his back in the river, sending a huge splash of water into the air.
The riverbank erupted in laughter. Even Solus, who had been watching from a safe distance, couldn't help but chuckle. Grut sat up, sputtering and covered in mud, his expression a mix of shock and indignation.
Luke crossed his arms, a smug grin spreading across his face. "How's that for a hit, huh?"
Grut glared at him for a moment, then a mischievous glint appeared in his eyes. He scooped up a handful of mud from the riverbed and hurled it at Luke. The mud hit its mark, splattering across Luke's chest.
"Oh, it's on," Luke said, his grin widening.
The riverbank descended into chaos once again, but this time, Luke was right in the middle of it. Goblins and human alike joined in, hurling clay and mud at each other with wild abandon. Zog and Rok teamed up to ambush Grut, while Solus, despite his initial hesitation, found himself laughing as he dodged a flying clump of clay.
For a brief moment, the weight of their struggles was forgotten. The village, the dragon, the rebellion—none of it mattered. There was only the laughter, the camaraderie, and the simple joy of a mud fight.
As the sun rose high in the sky, the group made their way back to the village. The goblins carried baskets of clay on their backs, their chatter filling the air as they joked about the earlier mud fight. Luke walked at the front, his own basket balanced on his shoulder, while Solus trailed behind, his expression thoughtful.
The human prisoner's mind was racing. He had witnessed the entire situation—the way Luke had organized the goblins, the way he had turned a simple task into a productive and even enjoyable endeavor. It was clear to Solus that this goblin, Lok, was different. Too smart. Too resourceful. And that made him dangerous.
Not all goblins are like this, Solus thought, his eyes narrowing as he watched the others. They're usually disorganized, chaotic, and weak. But if they start thinking like humans… if they start following someone like Lok…
The implications were unsettling. The balance of power in the world was already precarious. The orcs were physically strong, the elves had a natural aptitude for magic, and the dwarves could forge powerful weapons. If the goblins were to rise under a leader like Lok, it could shift everything. Solus couldn't let that happen.
I need to gain their trust first, he thought, his jaw tightening. I need to find a way to inform Master Solmund. I can't forgive them for killing Selina, Ronald, and Cray. They must pay for what they've done. I'll avenge my friends even if I die.
His mind turned to a spell his master had taught him—a simple yet effective communication spell. It allowed a message to be sent to a specific mana core wavelength, like a beacon. The mana cost depended on the distance, and from Solus's current location, it would require a large amount of energy. He would have to sacrifice himself, but it was possible. He just needed the right moment.
Grut's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. "Why so slow, human?" the goblin asked, nudging him with an elbow. "You tired or something?"
Solus forced a smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Oh, nothing. I'm just… tired," he said, his tone light but his mind already calculating. He couldn't let the goblins suspect anything. Not yet.
Grut shrugged, seemingly satisfied with the answer, and trotted ahead to join the others. Solus watched him go, his fake smile fading as his thoughts turned darker.
I'll bide my time, he decided. I'll play along, gain their trust, and when the moment is right, I'll send the message. Master Solmund will know what to do. And when he arrives…
His gaze shifted to Luke, who was laughing with the goblins as they walked. You may be smart, Lok, Solus thought, but you're still a goblin. And goblins don't get to change the world.
Back in the village, Luke wasted no time putting the gathered clay to good use. The goblins had hauled baskets of clay from the distant riverbank, their arms sore but their spirits high after the mud fight. Now, it was time to turn that clay into something useful.
Luke gathered the goblins with the most skilled hands in the center of the village, near the chief's hut. The sun was high, and the air was warm—perfect conditions for working with clay. Around them, the village buzzed with activity as other goblins carried baskets of clay to storage pits or shaped bricks under Luke's earlier instructions.
"Alright, listen up!" Luke called out, holding up a lump of clay for everyone to see. "Today, we're making something useful. Vases, pots, plates, and cups. And for those of you who can't shape a circle to save your life, don't worry—I've got something simpler for you."
The goblins murmured excitedly, their eyes wide with curiosity. Luke knelt down and began demonstrating. He took a flat stone and spread a layer of clay ash he had gathered earlier. "This," he explained, "will help bind the clay and make it stronger. Watch closely."
He mixed the ash into the clay, ensuring the moisture was just right—not too wet, not too dry. Then, he rolled out a flat circle of clay for the base. "This is the foundation," he said, pressing it firmly onto the stone. "Now, we build up the sides."
Luke took another piece of clay, mixed it with ash and a bit of wood shavings for texture, and rolled it into a long coil. He carefully placed it around the edges of the base, smoothing it out with his fingers to create the first layer of the pot. "Three layers," he said, "then we let it dry for a bit before adding more."
The goblins watched intently, some nodding as if they understood, while others scratched their heads in confusion. Luke chuckled. "Don't worry if it's not perfect. Just try your best."
As the goblins began imitating his actions, Luke moved on to his next project. He gathered more clay and ash, this time shaping it into a flat plate and a few small cups. "These are for drinking water," he explained, holding up one of the cups. "No more cupping your hands like animals."
While the goblins worked on their pots and cups, Luke turned his attention to something more ambitious: a furnace. He mixed clay and soil, shaping it into a sturdy structure with a slot on the side for a blower. "This," he said to no one in particular, "is going to change everything."
He opened his Blueprint Creation and Analysis skill and quickly designed a makeshift clay blower. It was a simple device with a leaf-bladed fan and a rope mechanism that could be pulled to generate airflow. "Perfect," he muttered, sketching the design in the dirt for the goblins to see.
But there was still one problem: the crucible. Pure clay wouldn't hold up to the heat needed for casting metal. Without graphite or a better material, making an anvil was out of the question—for now. Luke sighed, running a hand through his hair. "One step at a time," he reminded himself.
Instead, he focused on designing a clay pit for charcoal making. It was a simpler project, but every tech point counted. As he worked, he couldn't help but check his system notifications.
"System, what's my current tech points?" he asked.
[ Tech Points: 494 ]
Luke grinned. "Hahaha, I'm close. But what's the next tier shop gonna be?"
The system didn't respond, so he moved on to his next question. "System, tell me the daily tech point income from just the toilet alone."
[ Your current daily tech point income from the toilet is 23 - 47
tech points per day. ]
Luke's grin widened. "Not bad. Not bad at all."
As the sun began to set, the village was filled with the sounds of goblins laughing, arguing, and working together. Some had successfully shaped pots and cups, while others had given up and switched to making bricks under Luke's guidance. The furnace stood half-finished, a testament to their progress.
Luke stood back, surveying the scene with a sense of pride. The goblins were learning, adapting, and growing stronger. But as his gaze fell on Solus, who was quietly observing from the sidelines, a flicker of unease crept into his mind.
He's too quiet, Luke thought. What's this uneasy feeling? He sighed, Maybe I'm just overthinking things. He shook his head.
For now, though, there was work to be done. The village was coming together, and Luke was determined to make it a place worth fighting for.