Chapter 112: Chapter 112: The Dark Elf
This was a castle abandoned for years, its outer walls long crumbled and buried by the earth. The main gate faced west, flanked by towers to the north and south. Beneath the towers, arrow slits allowed archers to fire from behind the walls’ protection.
Though much of the structure had collapsed, the remaining construction still offered ample cover. Those atop the walls could survey the surroundings—making the castle’s front nearly impregnable. With their party’s current strength, a direct assault would be futile.
Fortunately, with Nidalee guiding them, a frontal assault wasn’t necessary.
"This way, hurry!"
In the small woods north of the castle, Nidalee crouched low, carefully using the trees for cover. Her green eyes, enhanced by magic, pierced the darkness as she scouted the castle ahead.
Charles followed, his expression grim. His consciousness warned him that the castle’s sanitation system had likely failed long ago, and its current inhabitants had repurposed the area for their own needs...
But the mission came first. Gritting his teeth, he trailed Nidalee, moving silently closer.
Between the woods and the castle lay a clearing less than ten meters wide, dotted with remnants of the outer walls. Beyond that stood the side wall of a castle chamber, partially collapsed where a window once was, creating an opening.
Nidalee peered through this gap, observing the hobgoblins inside.
By now, the sun had fully set, plunging the forest and castle into darkness. Only a few scattered torches provided light, allowing the robbers within some semblance of nighttime activity.
"That’s the hobgoblins’ dorm," Nidalee whispered, still watching. "They’ve likely finished dinner and are gambling now. They’ll probably retire soon. A hunter’s greatest virtue is patience..."
Charles’ face tightened. Waiting longer in these woods was unbearable. Glancing at the ruined walls ahead, he clenched his jaw and suddenly said, "Perhaps I can help them sleep early tonight."
Nidalee turned, puzzled, as he scanned the woods to ensure no one was nearby. Then he dashed to the castle wall, pressing against the collapsed edge like a thief, cautiously peering inside.
The chamber spanned sixty or seventy square meters, with a wooden door leading east on its southern side. Near the collapsed opening lay a large plank—likely intended to seal the gap come winter.
Thankfully, repairs hadn’t begun yet, or this path would’ve been lost.
Thick straw and bedding covered one corner, where six figures in undergarments rolled dice, oblivious to the danger approaching.
These were the hobgoblins.
Like bugbears and goblins, hobgoblins belonged to the broader "goblinoid" classification, though greatly weakened. They stood near human height but bore crimson skin, pointed ears, massive noses, and deep nasolabial folds—traits that clashed with human aesthetics.
Compared to humans, they held slight physical and intellectual advantages, but their true strength lay in their rigid hierarchy, ruthless discipline, and mandatory military training for all members.
Though less brutal than Amazon warrior training, every hobgoblin—male or female—underwent rigorous drills from childhood: weapons, armor, shields, marching, logistics, formations, and more.
Thus, every adult hobgoblin was a versatile soldier. In the Rubble District, hobgoblin-led mercenary groups were synonymous with reliability. Even Zenith’s bandit crew, led by hobgoblins, struck fear as a formidable criminal gang.
But even the fiercest criminals needed ale to endure lonely nights.
This close, Charles could hear their drunken dice rolls and slurred voices: "Roll Perception... critical failure! Nice—you tumbled down the stairs..."
The others grumbled complaints. Clearly, those off duty tonight had enjoyed one too many drinks, leaving them dazed.
Hearing their tipsy voices, Charles’ lips curled slightly.
Perfect timing.
Then, sleep tight...
He murmured an incantation, then vaulted through the collapsed wall, appearing before the group. As they gaped in shock, he raised his hand and unleashed his spell: "Sleep!"
The second-tier spell’s magic surged forth, engulfing the chamber. Already drunk and seated on bedding, the hobgoblins succumbed instantly, slumping into deep slumber.
Flawless.
Charles smirked inwardly, then beckoned to the others. "Come. It’s done."
Stepping inside, he noted the hobgoblins’ bedding—less than clean due to mountain living—but the well-ventilated room held no stench.
Then again, with a gaping hole in the wall, icy winds scoured away any foul odors.
The three girls hurried in. Ruth and Sephera leaped ahead, joining him swiftly. Nidalee trailed, her eyes wide with awe. "To think you’re also a master mage..."
Charles chuckled lightly. "I’ve always relied on spellcasting as my primary combat method."
Brushing past the topic, he pressed, "Enough chatter. Do you know the castle’s layout? Specifically, where Zenith and the necromancer reside?"
He had some idea from memory but preferred not to reveal his knowledge. After all, reality might differ from the game—where Zenith had never dabbled in necromancy!
Charles also had no intention of waking the hobgoblins for interrogation. These creatures were fiercely loyal and proud of their race.
If one woke, it would likely shout to alert its comrades—a risk he refused to take.
For respectable enemies like hobgoblins, the most honorable solution was to kill them all.
Hearing his words, Nidalee snapped back to attention. "I’m not certain, but we could capture a few goblins for questioning."
Her gaze turned westward, piercing through the wall toward the arrow towers. "A few goblins should be stationed there. If we move carefully, we can grab one or two and extract the intel we need."
Hobgoblins, the cleverest among goblinoids, often ruled over their lesser kin—bugbears and goblins—using them as laborers, thugs, and cannon fodder for their armies.
This let their forces swell rapidly, but these underlings could also become vulnerabilities.
Charles nodded. "Then it’s settled. Ruth, you’ll move with Miss Nidalee. Capture a few goblins alive for interrogation—just like last time."
Ruth nodded. "Understood!"
The two agile women sprang into action, first eavesdropping to confirm the coast was clear before silently slipping out. They split left and right, soundlessly darting toward the towers.
Two minutes later, they returned, each dragging a gagged, terrified goblin into the room.
"Cleared them out," Ruth reported first. "I killed every other guard there, leaving just this one. He’s scared witless—should answer anything we ask."
Nidalee’s expression was complicated. "I only took this one. The others were knocked out, not killed."
Sephera smirked. "Oh? How merciful of you."
Nidalee scowled but didn’t retort. Charles ignored the jab, taking the trembling goblin from Ruth and hauling it outside.
"You saw what happened to your friends. I’ve got questions. Lie or try anything, and you know the consequences."
The goblin nodded frantically. Charles yanked out the gag.
"Where’s your boss, Zenith? And the necromancer?"
"Z-Zenith’s in the deepest room on the second floor," the goblin stammered. "The dark elf’s resting in the northeast room on the first floor—the one with the basement."
Charles’ eyebrows shot up.
A dark elf?
Huh. Different from the instance... No, that wasn’t quite accurate. The instance never specified the necromancer’s identity. This castle was just a minor instance after all...
So Zenith has connections to the Underdark?
The Rubble District did have a path to the Underdark - deep in the plateau, in an abandoned mine shaft called the "Haunted Gold Mine." The locals avoided it like plague, terrified by the rumors.
But as a player, Charles knew the truth: it wasn’t haunted at all. The miners had simply tunneled into the Underdark, only to be enslaved by mind flayers who claimed the mine as their secret passage to the surface.
Years later, the mine’s terrifying reputation persisted, though on the Underdark side, the territory had changed hands multiple times through constant warfare. So encountering Underdark denizens here - dark elves or duergar - wasn’t entirely unexpected.
Nidalee’s eyes visibly lit up, her expression turning eager. She seemed about to say something, but after a moment’s hesitation, she bit back her words and adopted an indifferent expression, waiting for Charles to continue the interrogation.
Charles noted her reaction but gave no outward sign as he pressed on with the questioning.
"Good. I like your attitude, so you get to live," he said. "Now, exactly which room is the necromancer in? How do we get there? And what enemies stand in our way?"
The goblin’s eyes lit up, visibly encouraged. His speech became clearer: "From the room where the hobgoblins rest, go east through that door to reach our storage room. East of the storage room, a small door leads through a dark corridor straight to where we sacrifice to the deities."
"Our priest and two acolytes are usually there. From the sacrifice room, head further east and you’ll see three rooms - the dark elf resides in the central one."
He paused, his beady eyes shifting, then added: "Alternatively, you could take the southern dining hall route, but it adjoins several dorms. You’d risk being noticed there."
Charles nodded. "Good."
Producing two gold coins, he continued: "Answer one more question truthfully, and not only will you live, but you’ll earn these. Understood?"
The goblin nodded eagerly. "Understood! Understood!"
"How many bodyguards does Zenith have?" Charles demanded. "Where are they stationed? What equipment do they carry? Tell me everything you know."
"There... there are two hobgoblin officers," the goblin stammered. "They sleep upstairs near Zenith. They’re our captains. Oh, and Zenith recently acquired an owlbear kept caged downstairs, though he never releases it."
Charles nodded. "Good. Anything else we should know? Traps? Ambushes?"
The goblin hesitated, then shook his head. "Nothing..."
"You’re lying," Charles stated coldly. "In that dark corridor you mentioned - there’s a grick lurking there, isn’t there?"
Gricks - monstrous worm-like creatures with stubby beaks surrounded by four palps.
Their wall-crawling ability lets them lurk on ceilings, and they can adjust their skin tone to blend seamlessly with surrounding stone. Only the most skilled scouts could detect them!
This particular one served as the priest’s pet. Not only was it formidable in strength, but its alarm would alert the entire castle. Many novice adventurers had fallen prey to ambushes in that dark corridor.
Charles might not know the castle’s approach routes (the game instance only permitted frontal assaults), but he remembered its interior traps quite clearly.
At Charles’ accusation, the goblin turned deathly pale, his pupils contracting. "Y-yes! There is a grick! I forgot - I rarely visit the altar-"
Shink!
A flash of steel. Charles slit the goblin’s throat. Scalding blood sprayed as the goblin’s body stiffened, swayed briefly, then collapsed to the ground.
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