Murkfang saw no harm in letting Byung attempt to heal him, though he had no expectations. Still, it would be fascinating if he succeeded—such a feat had never been recorded by a goblin before.
There was a reason their life expectancy was so low.
Not all goblins had access to medicine during reproduction, nor did they have treatments for complex diseases.
Murkfang followed Byung to a location the younger goblin seemed familiar with. He noticed there were no other goblins in sight. Why did he need privacy?
"This one is strange..." Murkfang thought, seating himself on a rock carved in the form of a chair—a display of innovation.
Byung disappeared into the bushes, searching for something. He emerged with marshmallow roots.
Murkfang was skeptical as he watched Byung grind them down meticulously.
"Medicine? That's impossible," Murkfang thought. There was no way for Byung to acquire this knowledge if he'd only worked in these mines.
Byung knew winning Murkfang over was the priority. He couldn't hold back—he had to make a strong impression to demonstrate his value.
"Here. Drink," Byung instructed, handing him a wooden cup containing the ground roots.
There was no water readily available, yet Byung had provided some. Murkfang had no idea how he'd obtained it, but he wasn't going to ask those questions now.
"I come here... noise too much inside," Byung offered, sensing Murkfang's unspoken questions.
Murkfang stared at the cup. His suspicion was understandable under such circumstances.
Byung took a sip from the cup to show it was safe to consume.
"See? Good," Byung responded with a broad smile.
Murkfang looked at the cup in Byung's hands, then at Byung himself. This wasn't the expression of someone with ill intentions. He ultimately conceded.
He took the cup and gulped it down, expecting bitterness—but to his surprise, it wasn't bitter at all.
"You like?" Byung asked, noticing the goblin's dilated pupils.
"I-It's sweet?" Murkfang couldn't hide his astonishment.
"See? Have more," Byung handed him a wooden bottle filled with additional mixture.
"These crafts... he made them himself..." Murkfang thought.
He couldn't believe a goblin only a couple months old could accomplish all this. It shouldn't be possible without prior knowledge. Even the farmers weren't blessed with such things.
First the medicine, now the bottle—among other items. What would come next?
Murkfang had harbored suspicions before, but seeing this in person confirmed everything.
This goblin was intelligent, at least by their standard—a word never before associated with their race.
---
Gribnox was having the time of his life. He had no cares in the world, and the fact that even the ugliest women looked attractive to goblins meant this location was a hotspot for prostitutes who were hideous by every standard.
It was close to orc territory, but the orcs allowed goblins to traverse these lands—no further.
Even so, orcs rarely lay with goblins because of the death sentence that followed conceiving their child. However, there was a potion that prevented pregnancy, allowing them to engage without worry.
Not only that, but goblins were known for their aggression in bed, which often resulted in weaker races fracturing or breaking bones during the act.
This was why orcs were an ideal match—they were physically stronger and bigger than goblins.
Gribnox had to pay three times what other races paid, and even then, he wasn't allowed to touch any orc—not even the hunchbacked orc that no customer approached due to her repulsive features, even by orc standards.
She stood naked before him, but this was all he needed. Gribnox began pleasuring himself to the deformed orc.
The orc should have been flattered that anyone could get aroused at all, let alone pleasure themselves to her—but what she felt was utter disgust.
It didn't take even five minutes—five minutes that felt like an eternity to her.
She was covered in white fluid. It flowed like a stream, drenching her in thick, sticky semen.
Gribnox was grateful for Murkfang; otherwise, he wouldn't have been able to achieve release, despite paying nearly triple the standard rate at this already substandard brothel.
Gribnox didn't care. He was on his way the moment his balls were empty.
He wondered why Murkfang was so taken with the new goblin and had declined to come with him.
Unlike Murkfang, Gribnox was on the heavy side. Murkfang had a way of persuading these ladies to allow penetration—a skill Gribnox didn't possess.
"I feel light on my feet," Gribnox muttered, despite clearly being out of breath. The statement obviously wasn't true as his big belly begged to differ.
But who cared? All he could think about was the next opportunity to release his load. Who could blame him? There was nothing else to do in this world.
---
Gribnox returned to his location and was greeted by the lower goblins. The atmosphere was thick with anxiety.
"You returned... Baron," a goblin said.
Before long, Gribnox confirmed the energy was different here. The goblins working under him were at a standstill.
No one was working. There was only one reason for such a thing.
One of the higher-ups had come to visit—the goblin who held power over the western province.
Gribnox was not a great communicator or negotiator, so naturally he was nervous—especially since the goblin he was meeting was known to be ruthless.
"He must be here because of slow production," Gribnox thought, praying Murkfang was present.
This goblin wasn't feared simply because of his power, but because he was one of the few goblins with actual combat experience.
In his youth, he'd served as a soldier to satisfy his violent side. There were goblins dominated by lust, like Gribnox, but there were a few abnormalities dominated by violence—like the one who'd come to visit.
They were opposites, and Gribnox knew meeting him was a recipe for disaster—but he had no choice.
He stepped into the wooden structure that served as a house. It had been downgraded since the last time this goblin visited.
They usually gave notice, so this was unusual—but it also indicated importance.
Gribnox walked into the building, trying his best to remain composed. But the moment he entered, he tripped over himself and landed headfirst on the ground, spinning around like a ball in comedic fashion.
The goblin seated within had come alone. He needed no security because he was one of the strongest and directly responsible for training the next generation of soldiers.
This was why the sight of Gribnox disgusted him. He wasn't just out of shape—sex was the only thing he cared about.
"W-Welcome... Mogul," Gribnox muttered, breathing heavily with his head pressed to the ground, not daring to look up.