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Chapter 141: The Real Plan
🕑 Added 2025-06-22 17:24:07 +0000 UTCRyraryus writhed at Lyle’s feet, his sinuous body coiling and twisting in agony, sweat pouring off his scales as though his skin were trying to escape from his bones. His mouth gaped silently, the pain too much for words. It felt as if a thousand ants were devouring his heart, or worse—like some unseen hand had clenched it tight and refused to let go.
For a species like Ryraryus’, whose lineage boasted a degree of natural resistance to curses, the suffering was still beyond comprehension.
Lyle stood over him, watching impassively. “So much for curse resistance,” he muttered under his breath, lips quirking ever so slightly.
With a casual wave of his hand, he motioned toward the puncture wound on Ryraryus’ chest, an injury left by Lyle’s broken iron sword. A dark energy pulsed there. He reached out, and as if plucking threads from the air, drew the curse outward. Wisps of black mist floated from the wound and vanished.
Immediately, the pain receded.
Ryraryus collapsed flat on the ground, gasping like a fish out of water, chest heaving. The suffocating pressure on his heart was gone, but the terror lingered.
Lyle had been refining his control over cursed energy in recent weeks, experimenting tirelessly on beasts and monsters in the forest. It had become clear to him that the closer the curse hit to the heart, the more devastating the effects. Experience was a brutal teacher, but a reliable one.
“I submit,” Ryraryus croaked suddenly, voice hoarse, eyes wide with fear. His long, scaled form trembled involuntarily. “I... I will serve.”
Lyle tilted his head. “No, you’ve misunderstood.”
He let the broken iron sword clatter to the ground and instead retrieved the large enchanted blade he'd earlier embedded in the cave floor. Ryraryus recoiled instinctively, his tail curling around himself, trying to become as small as possible.
“Let’s call it a partnership,” Lyle said, softening his voice into something that was supposed to sound friendly.
It didn’t help.
To Ryraryus, even Lyle’s smile looked like the kind of expression someone wore before plunging a dagger into your back. Humans, especially cunning ones, were rarely trustworthy. The word “Partnership” to Ryraryus sounded more like a lie with extra syllables.
Still, he said nothing. Survival came first.
“Interested in ruling the entire Great Tob Forest?” Lyle offered mildly, then paused for dramatic effect. “Lord Ryraryus, Western Naga of Influence—”
“Ryraryus Spenia Ai Indarun,” the serpent interrupted, clutching his dislocated arm. His voice was a hiss, pained and quiet.
“Right, that,” Lyle said, shrugging. “Anyway, the troll Guu and his territory? Cleared. All the dangerous monsters and wild beasts—gone. Guu’s mob of troll underlings? Also gone.”
Ryraryus’ eyes dilated with shock.
Now that he thought about it, his journey here had been unusually quiet. The scent of blood and scorched earth near the Rift Zone should’ve been a clue. He remembered seeing claw marks and shattered trees—remnants of something violent.
He swallowed hard.
“My domain is far west of here,” Ryraryus rasped. “Between us lies the territory of the Wise King…”
He didn’t finish the sentence. The implications hung heavy.
The idea of ruling the entire Great Tob Forest had never occurred to him. He wasn’t strong enough to challenge the Wise King or the brute troll Guu. If anything, he’d been just trying to survive between those two beasts.
If it hadn’t been for the fact that the Forest Sage cared only about sleeping and eating, and Guu had more muscle than brain, they probably would’ve taken the forest ages ago.
“I can help you deal with the Wise King,” Lyle said smoothly.
That did it.
The last shreds of Ryraryus’ escape plan evaporated. A throne made of vines and bones danced briefly in his imagination. But reality hit just as quickly: no one did anything for free, especially not a human this terrifying.
“What... would you have me do?” Ryraryus asked warily.
Lyle’s grin widened. He gestured toward the cave entrance, where Guu sat in a daze, brain still numbed by layers of charm magic.
“I like working with intelligent species,” Lyle said. “So here’s the deal: I want you to help me raise goblins.”
Ryraryus blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me,” Lyle replied, unbothered. “Goblins. Breed them. Feed them. Nurture them like your scaly little children.”
Ryraryus stared at him.
Of all the schemes he could’ve imagined, this one hadn’t even made the list.
“I’m not joking,” Lyle added helpfully. “You’re going to be my head goblin rancher.”
With his level climbing steadily, Lyle had already begun to encounter diminishing returns on experience farming. High-tier monsters yielded more XP, but they were finite. Killing them en masse brought the risk of attention—from dragons, rival lords, and other unpleasant types.
No, he needed something sustainable.
And nothing in this world bred faster than goblins.
“They reach maturity in months,” he explained casually, “and they multiply like rabbits with caffeine addictions. Give me a year, and I’ll have three generations at once.”
Ryraryus gawked at him. “You’re... serious?”
“Deadly,” Lyle said with a nod.
He paused, then gave the serpent a curious glance. “You seem convinced.”
“I can tell when someone’s lying,” Ryraryus admitted. “One of our racial traits.”
“Huh. Handy.”
Lyle spread his arms. “I originally intended to use Guu. He’s a troll, after all—dominant species, natural authority, very good with fists. Unfortunately... not good with anything else.”
He sighed, genuinely disappointed.
“I will serve,” Ryraryus said quickly, sensing the opportunity was real and likely his only path forward. “I accept.”
“Not serve,” Lyle corrected. “Partner.”
He reached out and gently tapped Ryraryus’ chest. “There’s a goblin tribe called the Gigu living near the center of the forest. They’re slightly smarter than average. Take control of them, and the rest of the goblins will fall in line.”
Ryraryus nodded, then flinched.
Lyle’s expression turned serious.
“And one more thing. This arrangement stays between us. If I hear about a leak...”
He snapped his fingers.
“AAAAAGH!”
Ryraryus writhed again, the unbearable sensation flaring in his chest as though his heart were being torn apart.
Then it stopped.
Lyle smiled gently. “Relax. That was just a little leftover curse magic I placed near your heart. It’s harmless, really, unless I say otherwise.”
In truth, that was the last of it. The curse energy had already burned itself out. But Ryraryus didn’t need to know that.
“Four years,” Lyle said calmly. “You help me raise goblins for four years, and I’ll remove the curse myself.”
“You’re not lying?” Ryraryus asked in a whisper.
“Your instincts can tell, right?” Lyle replied with a wink. “Forest Lord Ryraryus, may your reign be long and full of goblins.”
“I... accept.”
Ryraryus lowered himself to the ground in a bow, trembling with a mix of fear and excitement.
With negotiations finished, Lyle let Ryraryus slither away. He even gave him a little job, rounding up all the strong beasts and monsters in his territory.
After all, it would be a waste to leave all that juicy XP behind.
Would Ryraryus plot betrayal? Maybe. But Lyle didn’t care. Even fellow humans could barely be trusted; why should a snake-man be any different?
As long as he did the job, that was enough.
“And I still don’t have enough hands…” Lyle sighed as he walked back to the entrance of the cave.
He swapped out the full blood bucket from under Guu and placed an empty one.
The troll’s regenerative ability was impressive, superior to most of his kin. Lyle figured that with enough blood, he could develop a batch of high-grade regenerative potions.
“Should’ve taken some of Ryraryus’ blood, too,” he mused. “Next time.”
The 25th Day of the Month of Embers
After a half-month’s break, Lyle returned to the Wise King’s domain.
Hovering in the air, cloaked in magic, he gazed down at the shadowy treetops. With a flick of his wrist, he summoned five ogre corpses and let them drop like boulders.
BOOM!
The bodies crashed through the canopy, sending birds shrieking and beasts scurrying.
Now, all that was left was to wait.
He had already used up all the goblin corpses in his inventory, offering them as snacks for the ogres who had helped him earlier. In their place now were over 200 ogre bodies.
This time, he didn’t bring the barghest. The mutt wouldn’t be much help in a real fight and was better suited to guarding Guu—and maintaining the charm effect, just in case it wore off.
Lyle had even prepared a stack of “All-Race Charm” scrolls. If the enchantment broke, the hellhound only needed to bite into one to recast it.
Rustle... rustle...
Something moved in the trees below.
Lyle narrowed his eyes. A pale gray shape darted through the underbrush with unnatural speed, weaving between gnarled roots and tangled vines.
The Wise King had arrived.
For a creature that looked like a chubby raccoon with a bad attitude, it moved like lightning. The sage skidded to a stop near the ogre corpses, nose twitching.
“Ugh. What’s that stench?”
It wrinkled its snout in disgust and stood upright. “Why are there trolls here?”
It tilted its head, confused. Glowing eyes narrowed.
Then it remembered. The human—the flying one. The one it hated.
“I hate flying things,” it growled.
CRACK!
A violent burst of wind and energy split the air. The Wise King’s eyes shot upward, but the branches above blocked the view.
Then—WHAM!—a magic slash cut straight through the canopy, revealing Lyle in the sky above.
CLANG!
The Forest Sage raised its claws, blocking the attack with frightening precision. The collision sent a shockwave ripping through the trees.
Lyle hovered above the broken canopy, eyes narrowed.
“That didn’t work? Hah... stronger than Guu or Ryraryus.”
His grin widened.
“Good.”
He dove.
BOOM!
Branches shattered as he rocketed down, blade gleaming.
“Rapid Slash!”
The magic greatsword screamed through the air as Lyle swung at the Wise King’s head.
“I’m going to end you, human!” the Wise King bellowed, leaping forward with its claws outstretched.
