After the battle

Seth ORLETH

SHLACK!

The last goblin let out a muffled cry as my spear impaled him. His suffering was brief—he died instantly.

[You have killed a monster: Green Goblin.]

[You received…]

"Hey, I think I'm done here," I barked at the cleanup crew, ignoring the system's announcement.

The Cleanup Team was a small group responsible for gathering essence stones left behind by fallen creatures. Since we had been tasked directly by the Master, we were constantly protected by our fellow fighters. With each creature slain, we rushed to collect the essence stones, because in a chaotic battlefield, we couldn't afford to let them get mixed up with those collected by others.

Thanks to the soul pact, everyone in the Orleth clan could bypass the rule that only allowed someone to absorb essence stones from creatures they had killed themselves. It was a kind of blessing bestowed upon us by the Master.

Speaking of the Master, where is he?

I scanned the clearing, searching for him, but he was nowhere to be seen.

A bit of panic crept in. I searched for Lord Rakahn's gaze, and after a while, I found him crouched next to the leader of the Ibara clan, who was still lying on the ground.

Furrowing my brows, I took in Rakahn's calm expression and concluded nothing was too serious. I made my way over to them.

As I approached, Lord Rakahn looked up at me, his eyes narrowing in that way he does when he seems to ask, "What do you want, kid?"

"My lord, have you seen the Master? I've searched for him and can't find him anywhere!" I asked, softening my voice to show respect.

"Mmmh... he's probably already returned to the hamlet…?" he said, his tone uncertain. "I was looking for him too, but this bastard refuses to get up," he added, gesturing at the Ibara clan leader beside him.

Bastard!? I thought, momentarily stunned by the casual disrespect towards a clan leader.

I guess we've seen everything now, haven't we?

Sir Akumu stirred, raising the upper half of his body. He looked at me—or rather, past me. He was focused on something behind me.

"I don't think you need to search for him anymore," he said, still fixated on whatever was behind me.

I turned around, following his gaze. A dark-haired man clad in black leather armor was limping toward us. His armor was battered and had lost much of its former shine.

But there was a bigger problem...

The man was clutching his side, clearly in pain, struggling with each step.

My eyes widened, my heart raced, and a flood of questions rushed through my mind. I saw Lady Dahlia already at his side, helping him stand.

But... that's the Master!! I exclaimed internally.

What the hell happened? They were just goblins. How could he be in this state? Was he fighting something bigger?

"Seth, go tell the others to gather the remains for cremation," Lord Rakahn ordered, his tone suddenly serious. "And get a healer—quickly!"

I wanted to ask more, but I didn't have the courage to push any further. Fear of offending him unintentionally held me back.

"Yes, my lord, I'll go right away," I replied, leaving his side.

I walked for about two or three minutes until I reached the gathering point where the warriors of the Orleth, Ibara, and Elf clans rested and tended to their wounds.

I relayed the orders and sent a request for a healer.

Unfortunately, all the healers I approached had already expended their mana treating the most severe injuries. The battle had been brutal, and the number of wounded had overwhelmed the healers to the point where they had been forced to call upon their contracted spirits for aid.

"It's a real pain in the ass," I growled under my breath.

After searching for a while, I finally came across an elf. She was seated next to a survivor from the Dhakat clan. Her pale skin glowed in the fading light of dusk. She was graceful and strikingly beautiful, radiating an aura of youth...

But with elves, you could never truly know their age just by looking at them.

Appearance is often deceiving, I reminded myself.

This ancient race, born from spirits, could live up to 300 years. They aged slowly, and it was even harder for them to bear children.

I explained my predicament to the "young" elf, asking for her help.

She hesitated for a moment, exchanging a glance with the Dhakat survivor. With a nod, they both rose and agreed to assist in treating the Master.

I didn't pay much attention to their interaction. All I knew was that with Lady Dahlia's possessive nature, I doubted she'd let that large-breasted survivor get too close to the Master.

Should I warn them?

Mmmh… no, maybe I'm just overthinking it, I told myself, trying to dismiss the thought.

Lady Dahlia could be unpredictable at times.