Chapter 11

The Castle of Clovershire looms atop the highland, perched against the menacing cliff of Mount Kalib. Its main gate gazes eastward, while the King's throne resides in the west. With a sprawling expanse spanning nearly ten hectares, the castle boasts a labyrinth of hundreds of rooms. Two colossal towers stand sentinel on the castle's northern and southern flanks, casting ominous shadows in every direction. The formidable walls, hewn from impenetrable stone, bear the scars of relentless assaults by both mortal enemies and malevolent creatures that lurk in the darkness. The castle stands as a testament to its enduring resilience, having withstood countless onslaughts, be it the wrath of man or the horrors unleashed upon it by otherworldly monstrosities.

But now, the walls of the castle trembled under the ominous threat of the goblin army. The once feeble force first detected by the scouts had multiplied exponentially, swelling to a staggering two hundred and fifty thousand in a matter of days. It was a horde that cast a suffocating shadow of dread across the realm, eclipsing the meager size of the Kingdom's army, which numbered a mere hundred thousand. A chilling sense of terror permeated the air within the castle, as whispers of impending doom slithered through its very foundations, spreading like a venomous wildfire, consuming every corner of the land.

Edgar sat inside his tent, located approximately five kilometers away from the castle, a heavy air of suspense and horror looming around him. His trusted troop commander provided him with minute-by-minute updates, each report adding to the mounting sense of dread. Tasked by King Borosik, Eadgar's mission was to bring twenty thousand men to secure the perimeter of the castle, guarding against any surprise attacks that could strike from any direction.

Having dispatched advance troops to scout the area, Eadgar sought to find advantageous locations to lay traps and conceal his forces for potential surprise assaults. However, as time passed, his scouts discovered a troubling truth: the number of goblin troops was multiplying by the day. Eadgar's resources were quickly stretched thin as he struggled to secure more areas affected by the increasing goblin activities. It became painfully clear that his current plan was rapidly unraveling, forcing him to confront the chilling reality that he would soon need to abandon his initial strategy and devise an alternative course of action.

As he furrowed his brow, pondering his next move, unbeknownst to him, his brother Edward had also stumbled upon eerie occurrences within the goblin nest. No visible sign of troops had emerged from the depths, yet reports relayed by his brother Edgar revealed an alarming surge in goblin numbers near the front line. The inexplicable influx defied all logic, for how could such a vast horde have eluded Edward's vigilant soldiers?

Edward realized the urgency of the situation, he knew he had to send his most skilled rangers deep into the treacherous goblin nest, beyond the river, to uncover the unsettling mystery behind the missing troops. As he anxiously briefed the rangers on their perilous mission, a report arrived from his brother. The message struck him with a wave of terror as if a cold hand had gripped his heart. It read, "Brother, abandon your post without delay. Join me at the frontline. I have discovered the sinister truth behind the inexplicable absence of the goblin army. They have found a way to materialize in our very midst."

In the report, there were no details explaining how the goblin army moves, but Edward trusted his twin brother's analysis. Eadgar, the smarter of the two, was known for his cunning strategies, while Edward excelled in handling difficult situations during battles. A sense of unease crept over Edward as he folded the report and tucked it into his armor.

"I will go ahead and search for the third knight, Eadgar," Edward declared, his voice laced with determination. Deep within him, a sense of foreboding twisted his insides, urging him to take immediate action. Something was amiss, and the unease gnawed at him relentlessly.

With unwavering resolve, Edward turned his gaze towards his loyal field knights, their faces mirroring his unease. Edward continues "And you lots ensure the men are ready to pack up and move at the break of dawn," He issued a commanding order, the urgency palpable in his words, as he directed them to break camp and prepare for a march towards the treacherous frontline where Eadgar awaited.

As Edward reached for his drawer and from there, he retrieved a worn and tattered parchment—a powerful teleportation spell. This arcane artifact held the ability to transport its user to any desired location, a lifeline in dire situations. With a resolute gesture, he tore the parchment apart, its fragments fluttering to the ground like shards of a shattered reality.

This torn paper contained the key to traversing the realms, an escape route for those bereft of innate teleportation magic. In the shadows of the encampment, sinister energy seemed to stir, as if the ancient words on those pages beckoned to something beyond the mortal realm. The forbidden power they held carried both the allure of salvation and the dark promise of unspeakable consequences.

The flickering flames of the campfire cast dancing shadows across Edward's face, as he whispered an incantation filled with resolve. The air crackled with an electric charge, sending a shiver down his spine. A portal materialized before him, its swirling depths revealing glimpses of an unknown and perilous destination.

With a final glance back at his field knights, their eyes reflecting equal parts concern and admiration, Edward stepped forward, surrendering himself to the unknown. The portal swallowed him whole, leaving behind a lingering sense of dread and anticipation in its wake.

Inside the desolate goblin nest, a figure of grotesque proportions lurked in the shadows. The once fearsome goblin king appeared warped and twisted, his body grotesquely shrunken, barely surpassing the height of a common goblin. Gone were all his menacing crowns of horns, replaced instead by a sinister, blood-red mark etched upon his forehead. Yet, while his physical form had been distorted, an unnerving surge of power coursed through his veins, surpassing any of his wildest dreams. If he were to dare challenge the remaining monstrosities now, he was certain of emerging as the ultimate victor.

"How do you feel now, goblin?" Astaroth's voice dripped with anticipation and sadistic pleasure.

"I feel an overwhelming surge of power coursing through my body, my lord," the goblin replied, his voice laced with both fear and excitement. "I feel as though I possess the strength to vanquish any other monstrosity that roams this wretched forest." Zarku's clawed hand clenched and unclenched, the transformation overtaking him., His figure no longer resembled that of a mere goblin; it now exuded an unsettling aura. His once dull, grey skin now glistened with a sickly sheen, as if covered in a slimy film.

"I can also feel a lot more mana now, the magical power seems endless."

Astaroth's smile twisted into a grin, casting an eerie shadow over his face.

"Do you wish to put your newfound power to the test, goblin?" Astaroth's voice held a twisted delight.

The ex-goblin king, now a mere puppet under Astaroth's domination, had been stripped of his kingship and left devoid of his former self. He had lost his subjects, forced to surrender to Astaroth's ruthless control. With a submissive nod, he knelt before Astaroth, his voice trembling.

"Lord Astaroth, what is your command?"

"I have sensed a large number of humans who appear to have undergone unconventional training beyond this cave." "It appears they are scheming to establish hidden forces, waiting to strike." "Now, show me how swiftly you can eradicate them all with the unholy power bestowed upon you."

Zarku bowed deeply, a twisted smile curling on his lips, his heart pounding with excitement. "Right away, my lord". He couldn't contain his eagerness to unleash his newfound powers upon the humans who had dared to defy his lord's dominion.

As Zarku stepped out of his cave, Zarku found that his senses have sharpened, heightened by the unholy power bestowed upon him. He could perceive the faintest rustle of leaves, the distant whispers of wind carrying an otherworldly chill. His heightened senses told him that his lord was right. There was a certain bloodthirst in the air, a sensation he would never have been able to perceive in his previous self.

In the distance, Zarku spotted a faint glimmer of light, signaling the presence of the hidden forces his lord had warned him about. As he drew closer, he could hear hushed whispers and the muffled sounds of footsteps. He saw a small troop of soldiers packing up, it seems that the soldiers had been given orders to move.

In the shroud of night, Zarku leaped silently from the gnarled branches above, his form melding with the darkness. As his feet made contact with the damp earth, he unleashed a primal, unholy power, summoning an enormous fireball that crackled with evil energy. With a chilling smile, he hurled the searing orb of destruction toward the unsuspecting soldiers, who remained oblivious to their impending demise.

The fireball blazed through the air, its fiery tendrils licking at the soldiers closest to Zarku. Their screams of terror shattered the tranquillity of the night, their flesh igniting with a sickening sizzle. In an instant, their bodies were reduced to charred remains, their forms contorted in agonizing poses of despair.

The remaining soldiers turned in horror, their eyes widening as they beheld the macabre tableau before them. Panic seized their hearts, and their hands fumbled for weapons as they desperately tried to comprehend the relentless darkness that had descended upon them. But it was too late—the shadow of death had claimed their comrades, and now it hungered for their souls.