CH184 Memories of a Goblin
Jared let out a sharp whistle.
Moments later, a murder of crows came hurtling through the treetops, swarming toward him in a chaotic blur of black feathers.
Alex blinked at the sight. "What are you doing?"
"Calling for an end to your operation," Jared replied smoothly. "I’ve summoned your platoon. They’ll gather here and begin evacuating the spoils of your hunt."
Alex frowned. "Wait, we’re leaving? What about the goblins?"
"The Wendigoes have already done most of the work. Without protection from stronger beings like the Troll and the Earth Drake, the goblins won’t last long. The forest will devour the rest."
Jared’s tone didn’t change as he continued. "I’ve also ordered the dispatch of one of the Fury House’s extermination units to sweep the area and finish the job."
His eyes narrowed faintly. "As for you... I’m sure you already sense it—there’s something far more important you should be focusing on right now."
Alex’s gaze grew solemn.
"Fine. I understand," he said quietly.
Then, a thought struck him.
"Have someone check the area near the Drake’s den. Dragonkind only build their lairs near places of resource-rich locations. Even if Zilbris took over the den, the resources should still be nearby."
"Maybe we’ll uncover something valuable."
"I’m aware," Jared replied curtly.
Alex gave a dry chuckle at the man’s tone. Still, it was reassuring. If Jared was handling it, things would be taken care of properly.
With nothing more to say, Alex climbed atop the Earth Drake’s corpse—a massive thing Zilbris had surprisingly left behind.
Or maybe... not so surprising.
Alex had won a Dragon Duel. By the rules of their kind, everything that belonged to the loser was now his—including the corpse.
If he were true Dragonkin or a pureblood Dragon, he could have consumed the flesh to potentially empower his bloodline to ascend. But he wasn’t.
And even if he wanted to, devouring something this massive whole—or in time—was impossible for a human like him.
Still, there were... other uses.
Dragonkind were natural anchors for ambient mana.
While Alex still couldn’t sense or manipulate mana with his locked Mana Heart, he could still benefit from it.
By simply lying on the corpse, he could bathe in the residual mana and let it wash over his body, accelerating his recovery.
When Udara, Fen, and the Wendigo leader returned from their sweep, they found Alex reclining lazily atop the Earth Drake’s 7–8 metre-long corpse. Hands folded behind his head, one leg crossed over the other, he looked like he was sunbathing.
All he lacked was a cigarette or a straw in his mouth to complete the rogue image.
A snapshot that perfectly captured the insane feat he had pulled off.
Even the Wendigo, savage and stoic as it was, gave a visible pause at the sight of Alex—the young, intermediate-rank human—resting on the corpse of a slain Earth Drake.
"Oh, you’re back," Alex said casually, kicking up to his feet with an agile motion and sliding off the body.
Though his mana heart was still locked shut, he could feel the difference. His body was recovering faster, fresher.
A sure sign that the mana saturating the Drake’s corpse was doing its job—being drawn into his physical form through sheer proximity.
Jared had once again vanished into thin air, but Alex could still sense the lingering aura of both the Saint Dark Knight and Zilbris in the area.
Powerful presences like theirs ensured no beast dared come near.
Alex noticed the Wendigo leader’s discomfort.
"Don’t worry. The Coloured Dragon is gone. I’ve already settled matters with the Dragon race. They won’t pursue this," he said calmly.
The Wendigo leader gave him a stunned look—or at least, as stunned a Wendigo could manage. It said nothing.
Half in shock at the absurdity of what it had just heard, and half speechless at not knowing where to even begin, it merely stared.
Fortunately, Alex pushed the matter forward.
"What happened to the Goblin Chief?" he asked.
"He scoured the goblin leader’s mind, as you requested," Udara replied promptly.
Alex gave a curt nod. "Let me see them."
The Wendigo leader returned the nod and extended its spiritual tendrils toward him, expecting Alex to do the same.
But instead, Alex boldly stepped forward and allowed the tendrils to touch his forehead directly.
In his current state, Alex was no different from a powerless human before a Wendigo. Doing this was no different from handing the creature free access to manipulate his mind.
However, Alex saw it differently.
For one, it was a calculated show of trust. A signal that he trusted the Wendigo not to overstep boundaries.
But it was also a subtle show of strength—an illusion of control to veil his weakness.
True communication, especially between powerful beings, only happened between perceived equals. If he revealed how damaged his body truly was, there was no telling how the Wendigo might respond.
Rather than gamble on its goodwill, Alex chose a different kind of gamble.
While he couldn’t manipulate his Spiritual Force at the moment, his mind remained under his control. As long as he maintained his composure, he could project strength and obscure his vulnerability.
As expected, the Wendigo behaved perfectly, transmitting only the specific memories Alex asked for.
Alex couldn’t help but marvel at yet another one of the Wendigo’s innate gifts:
As natural masters of mental and spiritual forces, Wendigoes developed an instinctual ability to delve into the memories of others.
Of course, it wasn’t a gentle process.
The ability triggered violent rejection from the target’s soul, as the natural instinct for self-preservation flared against the intrusion. The combination of spiritual clash and mental pressure usually led to one result:
A slow, excruciating death.
Even Wendigoes used it sparingly—reserved only for their worst enemies... or the most despicable of kin.
Alex focused, accepting the flood of foreign memories as they surged into his mind. Despite the download’s speed, he parsed them with clarity, thanks to his eidetic mind and trained cognition.
The goblin village chief’s entire life, such as it was, amounted to a mere two months.
In that time, the creature had evolved from a pitiful Class 0 ordinary goblin into a Class 3 Lesser Goblin Shaman.
Its earliest clear memory was waking in a dark chamber beside others of its kind.
Not long after, they were herded into another dim hall—this one filled with a disturbing presence. There, the ideals of a so-called ’Goblin Empire’ were force-fed into their minds by a cloaked figure whose face remained obscured, even in memory.