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Chapter 86 (B2-18)

  How amazing. It’s never occurred to me to use the pockets this way before. Storing solid things like books, daggers, and leathers, that makes complete sense. Anything that’d get put into my pack should also go into a pocket. That’s only logical. After all, the pockets are very much like extra, invisible packs or pouches. However, that’s always been far too limiting, hasn’t it?

  After living in Garret’s library for so long, it should’ve been clear much sooner. There was perpetual, breathable air inside there, giant ladders, and that big sun thing too. No one would shove those sorts of things into a pack or pouch. This opens so many new opportunities. Think of all the applications! If the inner pocket’s size and shape is precisely controlled and the seal carefully released, then that’d be perfect for delivering dangerous ingredients into a mixture. It’d only take a few taps of my hand. Actually, if I use tethers instead, then maybe my hands are entirely optional? There’s so many possibilities! Oh sweet, sonorous spacial song, I’ve missed you so, so much.

  Before my excitement distracts too much, I create many more little pockets of the treacherous acid to join the first. Better to have more than necessary, and my internal energy levels are still significantly above fifty percent. It’ll be fine.

  Fantastic. Who would have thought that such wondrous gifts can be found hiding behind such awful horrors? Now we must head back to the mud pit to get all these pesky injuries from those worms healed. Come to think of it, that snake bite that Ha’koff received as well. That little guy really did take quite the beating this time. Yes, how do we get back? That’s the important question right now.

  Plodding through and surveying the twisting caverns, we see many different teams of busy goblins rushing every which way. It’s impossible to distinguish exit from entrance in the chaos. Some carry long, sharp metal objects, others move heavy, unconscious creatures as a group, and a few even struggle to drag large bags of the big ones’ metal coins. That last one is certainly strange. What use do we have for those silly things? Are they related to the portals somehow? Is that why the porters like them so much? So much left to learn.

  Perhaps the oddest yet, a sizable team of brothers rushes by carrying an incredibly ornate, golden box raised high above their heads. It looks hefty. Occasionally they wobble, bouncing it off the rugged walls and causing the pretty container to scuff and take damage.

  “Wel?!” I exclaim, stupidly gaping at the obvious treasure. “Dat wel? Don gew! Ind! Ind!”

  The team of brothers abruptly halts their march and collectively turns to look at me, grumpy and upset by the annoying interruption. However, I don’t care. This is too important to worry about etiquette!

  “Wat?” one of them angrily spits in response. “Agob ennu? Agg agobs. Luuk agob.”

  “Steel. Agobs steel,” I sheepishly request, starting to realize the absurdity of my demands. “Gob wan. Wan hol. Dur hol. Gib?”

  “Wat wat?” the lead goblin exclaims, oozing in exasperation. “Agob wan? Non hol. Agobs bus. Bus bus! Agobs gew.”

  “Non!” I scream, the energy draining from my body as they take the beautiful treasure away down the tunnel.

  Sprinting to follow, the leash goes taut and I’m awkwardly bounced backwards onto my behind. What’s this? Why isn’t my team moving to follow?

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  Drat! It must have been those leech things. I’m tired as well, but we can’t let that wonderful box get away. Ugh, guess I’ll be lugging him around on my back for more than just the return trip this time. The things you do for your team.

  Hurrying as fast as possible under Ha’koff’s deadweight, I struggle down the tunnel after them. My eyes downcast beneath the burden, I mostly rely on the slime’s notifications to prevent me from slamming into the walls. Otherwise, there’s no need to look up. I can smell them. I can smell the box, it’s clear as day.

  The tight, twisting tunnel opens up into a much larger space, so I place my unconscious teammate down in the corner and tie him to a rock for safe keeping. Two teams of goblins are resting here next to the unmoving bodies of a few gargantuan reptiles limply lying on the ground.

  We definitely need to leave before those wake back up. However, priority one is the special box. Excuse me, my special box. I smell it, it’s definitely here.

  Creeping past the sleepy brothers and exploring the rear of the cavern, I find it. The team that I followed has just finished installing the box into a shallow recess in the floor. A second team has joined them, oddly fumbling with the container and its surroundings. They look very nervous. Why?

  As I cautiously approach the beauty, one of the members of the second team trips and falls flat onto his face near the box. A tiny fraction of a second later, giant metal spikes shoot up from the floor, impaling him multiple times over.

  “Ugh! Non non! Dum agob. Min scrul! Scrul afras,” another one of the goblins loudly complains. “Wan melt! Dum agob. Dum dum!”

  The second team’s goblins become a flurry of activity, pushing the spikes back into the floor and covering them with debris. Now very wary of getting anywhere near the box, I lock down in place and observe. The brothers work hard to complete whatever indecipherable job it is that they’re performing. However, I’m at a complete loss understanding it. How do they know what to do? Is it the whispers?

  “Dun!” the same goblin as earlier clamorously declares, before scrambling over with his crew to join the others.

  A moment later, a new portal opens and an eerie figure steps through. Very, very tall but also incredibly skinny. Practically a stick with equally lean arms and legs. It wears a hooded cloak, not dissimilar to my own. However, its cloak is a deep, deep sanguine red in color. Eagerly, I attempt to appraise the mysterious stranger.

  Ow, ow, ow! The energetic feedback from the song is incredibly intense, and I fall to the ground, rolling and howling in pain. This has never happened before! What is that thing? Is it a friend or enemy?

  The entity practically glides over to the box and then gently lays its emaciated hands on top. The box begins to glow an odd color. I can’t quite give it a name from my memory. Almost violet, but not quite? The floor suddenly fills with an enormous, complex array of strange script and shapes, all perfectly centered on the golden box. The pattern then slowly fades, and the walking stick casually backs away, his job appearing to be complete. However, rather than heading back through the still open portal, the stick turns to face me.

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