Murphy's contemplation was abruptly interrupted by the goblin scout's report, and soon, the contents of the report itself piqued his interest.
A wild female knight had appeared! Anyone remotely familiar with certain pulp fiction tropes knew that if this world were a card game, then the moment an opponent summoned a female knight, the goblin squad on one's side would need to spring into action.
Still, Murphy harbored a faint hope that this world might surprise him, that the outcome wouldn't be as predictable as the stories suggested. He glanced at the panting goblin scout and asked, "And why exactly are you reporting this to me?"
The goblin looked at Murphy, eyes brimming with confusion. For the first time, Murphy found himself able to read an expression with absolute clarity. He was certain that his interpretation was correct, and the goblin's gaze conveyed a singular, unspoken message: Who the hell are you?
Murphy had no patience for nonsense. With a casual flick of his hand, he unleashed a minor intimidation skill. The goblin scout collapsed onto the ground, weeping uncontrollably, and began spilling everything like a cracked pot.
As it turned out, a lone female knight had fallen into a pit trap originally intended for wild dogs. She had fought valiantly, taking down dozens of goblins before succumbing to exhaustion. The remaining goblins had restrained her and brought her back to their den, sending a scout to inquire whether the lord had any special instructions.
Murphy raised an eyebrow. "You mean to tell me you don't have a standard procedure for situations like this?"
The goblin chieftain hastily offered an explanation. "Encounters with humans have become increasingly rare over the years. Even when it comes to capturing forced labor for human-run mines, they tend to prefer undead over fast-moving goblins. So whenever we do accidentally catch a human, we… handle it properly."
"Properly?" Murphy's interest was piqued. "And what exactly does that entail?"
The goblin chieftain straightened up proudly. "As a general rule, we run away when we see humans. But if one insists on chasing us all the way to our den, we leverage our height advantage to lure them into dead ends and capture them. Then we starve them for three days before throwing them back out. They tend to… disappear on their own after that."
Murphy felt a mix of amusement and incredulity. The goblin spoke as if explaining a fundamental law of nature, utterly convinced of the infallibility of his method.
"You mean to say you've never considered, say… eating them? Or using them for forced labor?" Murphy suddenly felt a twinge of guilt at how naturally the question had come to him.
"Of course not," the chieftain scoffed. "Our ancestors have long warned us—humans taste terrible. Besides, they're clever and will do everything in their power to escape. If you put a human to work, you need at least three goblins to guard them. The food consumption alone makes it a losing trade."
The logic was irrefutable. Even Murphy found himself unable to argue with it. However, something still nagged at him. He turned his gaze toward the sniveling goblin scout on the ground and asked the final, glaring question:
"This knight wasn't trying to invade your den. You chose to capture her. So… why?"
Between sniffles, the scout explained that they had been doing a routine trap inspection when they stumbled upon the knight caught in one of them. What followed was a moment of silence, before the scout uttered a phrase in the common demonic tongue that struck Murphy like a lightning bolt of familiarity—
"Well, since she was already here…"
Murphy was stunned. Even in another world, this reasoning still holds sway? And it's compelling enough to drive monsters into unnecessary trouble?
After a moment of thought, Murphy decided it was worth meeting this knight in person. If nothing else, he would need a capable guide for his journey to the human kingdom.
---
"Alright, one last time—introduce yourselves and stick to the script. I'll go first. I'm Murphy, a young merchant here in the goblin lands to purchase animal pelts."
"I'm Murphy's cousin, Tyre. I handle… the bookkeeping." Tyre, now fully disguised to mask his demonic heritage, looked every bit the part of a sixteen-year-old youth. He just wasn't entirely comfortable with his new role yet.
"I'm Byron, the driver and general laborer. Currently recovering from an injury." The "Byron-Blu Bionic Man," as Murphy privately dubbed him, had finally reached a point where his movement was convincingly human. After a full day of practice, they had ironed out most of the glaring mechanical flaws in his gait. Murphy mused that the most accurate description of their situation was a skeleton warrior piloting a slime-based mech suit.
With the party assembled, they set off alongside the goblin chieftain and scout toward the desolate hills. The remaining monster lords were dismissed back to their own territories, instructed to maintain order and await further summons. Murphy specifically ordered them to dig up their lands to check for any hidden mineral deposits—one never knew what their ancestors might have left behind. The next council meeting, barring any unforeseen circumstances, was to be held in the royal court in a month's time.
Before departing, Murphy gave an additional directive to the vampire lord: Upon returning to the Crimson Mountains, he was to conduct an anti-fraud campaign among his people. Specifically, they were to be warned against purchasing smuggled cauldrons—overpriced and shoddily made. The Demon King himself would provide them with superior ones. For free.
Murphy then gathered the werewolf and ghost lords separately, instructing them to form joint patrol units specifically tasked with robbing human smugglers. The rules were simple: Take the goods, let the humans go. Any cauldrons seized were to be delivered to the vampires. Everything else would be sent to the royal court for future trade negotiations.
To ensure their prisoner hadn't been prematurely "released," Murphy poured an immense amount of magic into an ancient, long-defunct teleportation circle. By midday, they had arrived at the barren hills.
The land was as unremarkable as its name suggested. The soil was poor, the trees twisted in strange, chaotic growths, and the low hills were riddled with goblin-dug burrows. The only true bounty of this place was the myriad creatures locked in a cycle of predation with the goblins—some of which were formidable enough to reach level ten.
With the sun high overhead, both Tyre and the bionic Byron were visibly struggling. Noon to a demon was what midnight was to a human—an unnatural hour to be outdoors.
Murphy gave them each a firm pat on the head. "You two need to become human. That means acting the part properly. No slip-ups."
Silently, he added, If we get caught, this might just spark an international incident.
As they neared the goblin den, Byron summoned two skeletal horses—carefully disguised—along with a nearly ruined wagon to complete the illusion of a ragtag merchant caravan.
Upon entering the cave designated for human captives, Murphy noted with amusement that the goblins had thoughtfully adjusted the ceiling height to accommodate their prisoners. It was a rare display of consideration—one that even proper prisoner-of-war camps might envy.
Murphy stepped into the depths of the cave, where, at long last, he came face to face with the long-anticipated denizen of this foreign world.
One look, and an unfiltered, instinctive exclamation burst forth:
"Holy crap!"
The knight was a textbook example of succubus aesthetics in human form—wasted potential, truly.
The female knight, who had all but given up hope, found herself rekindling a flicker of it upon seeing two young men and an older traveler before her. But the apparent leader merely stood there, lost in thought, which struck her as odd. The other two, likely from fatigue, simply stared blankly.
After a moment of tense silence, the knight finally spoke, her voice carrying a mix of desperation and frustration.
"Don't just stand there. Do something."
Murphy sighed. Not quite the line I was hoping for.
He turned to the goblin scout. "Release her. The deal's been made."
The goblin stepped forward, moving into the knight's field of vision. A quiet yet resolute voice echoed within the cave:
"Guh… Just kill me already, damn monsters!"
Murphy felt a surge of satisfaction. Ah, now that's a real knight.
The cell door creaked open. Tyre stepped forward, confirming her humanity before untying her.
Murphy smiled and said, "Looks like you're really human. I can take you home. No need to thank me—but I will be charging a fee."