Lord: Starting from a Goblin Nest

Ron took a quick survey of his surroundings: the goblin’s lair opened on the mountainside, fronted by a cliff. Below the cliff lay a dried-up riverbed.

”I know of three villages,” Delaford said, gesturing in three different directions. ”There’s one to the north, which is the closest. There’s one to the southwest—you can get there by following the riverbed below. And the farthest one is to the east.”

”Let’s go to the closest one first, how about it?” Aive suggested.

”A great disaster is about to happen in the north, so it’s best we stay far away from there,” Ron said, shaking his head. ”Besides, they were originally planning to migrate north. Since that village is the closest, there’s bound to be nothing left.”

”Let’s check out the one to the southwest. Delaford, you lead the way.”

Aive wanted to say more, but on second thought, it made sense. Besides, her current physical condition didn’t allow her the luxury of having her own ideas, so she could only slowly descend the mountain with Ron’s support.

”Actually, we have rope ladders and ropes to get down directly,” Delaford said, glancing at Aive. ”But this dead weight...”

”Who are you calling dead weight?!” Aive’s slender eyebrows shot up. ”When I’m not injured, I can take on a whole dozen of you!”

”I believe you,” Delaford said with a cunning smile, an expression that made the Goblin Hunter look utterly evil. ”That’s why they released the wolves and rats that nearly chewed you to death.”

As they followed the riverbed downstream, there was neither the cry of birds and beasts nor the sound of flowing water or rustling trees. Delaford and Aive’s constant bickering became the best background music.

After a journey of starts and stops, by the time afternoon arrived, even Ron had joined the fray.

As evening approached, the sun, already sinking low, finally spared the land, and a gentle evening breeze brought a hint of coolness.

”Tch, enough, enough! I’m dying of thirst!”

Her mouth and throat parched, Aive waved Delaford away from her—that guy, at least, had a blood bag to replenish his fluids!

’But there’s no telling what kind of blood that is. I wouldn’t dare drink it!’

”You should still get some fluids,” Ron said, taking the leather pouch full of fresh blood. He tilted his head back, poured two mouthfuls into his mouth without letting the pouch touch his lips, and then handed it to Aive. ”Although blood is high in protein, its decomposition leads to a rise in blood ammonia. Long-term consumption can cause liver toxicity and central nervous system diseases. But these are special circumstances, and maintaining your strength is more important—especially since you’re injured.”

Aive stared at Ron as if he were a monster. ”How can you drink that too! It could be human blood!”

”Does it matter what kind of blood it is?”

”N-No, I mean, of course it matters! I’m absolutely not drinking it! We should be at the village any minute now...”

Aive licked her chapped lips. It would be a lie to say she wasn’t thirsty; her throat felt like it was on fire, and swallowing was like gulping down a handful of razor blades. But... drinking blood?

”The people in the village left because of a water shortage. Why would they leave any water behind?” Ron shook his head and handed the blood bag back to Delaford. ”Is that shadow up ahead the village?”

”Yes, that’s it!” Delaford nodded with certainty. ”I recognize that wall!”

”I went there to steal something once and nearly got myself hung up on it while escaping!”

This was the advantage of a race with Dark Vision. A human like Ron, whose eyesight was already somewhat poor, could only barely make out the outlines of things in the dim light. But to Delaford, the wooden walls were as clear as day.

’Come to think of it, don’t Half-Elves have Dark Vision too?’

”Are you not talking to me?!” Aive huffed. ”I saw it before any of you, which is why I was reluctant to...”

But in truth, just as Ron had predicted, the villagers here had migrated due to drought. As the three of them walked into the deserted settlement, the most common sights were discarded bottles, jars, buckets, and basins.

Ron picked up a stone and dropped it into the dry well in the center of the village. He heard no splash of water.

”This...” Aive was dumbfounded. She hadn’t paid much attention to the villages on her way here and hadn’t expected this situation.

”Actually, there are other ways to get water,” Delaford said, digging into the sandy soil at the base of a wall with his hands. He pulled out a small, scorpion-like creature. ”They store water in their bodies, too.”

It looked like Delaford was enthusiastically teaching Aive a wilderness survival skill, but seeing the wicked grin on his face, Ron figured there was more to this little creature than met the eye.

Sure enough, after Aive saw through his trick and decisively rejected the Goblin Hunter’s ”suggestion,” the failed prankster Delaford simply tossed the bug aside, caught another kind, and popped it into his mouth.

”That one’s spicy,” he explained to Ron.

He paid no mind to Aive, whose face had gone as dark as the bottom of a pot.

In a fit of pique, the Half-Elf scoured nearly the entire village. But when she finally returned to the empty house where they were resting and met up with Ron and Delaford, who were building a campfire, everything she’d brought back fit in her two hands.

A few candles, a flint, a thin, tattered set of bedding, and even a few lengths of shoddy hemp rope thrown in for good measure.

If Delaford hadn’t brought five days’ worth of rations (meat) and water (blood) for the three of them, they probably would have all gone hungry.

”GULP, GULP, GULP—AHHH—”

Having accepted her fate, Aive had no choice but to cast aside her reservations. After chugging the blood, she tore into three pieces of roasted meat before she was satisfied, her appetite leaving Delaford dumbfounded.

”You two get some rest. I’ll take the first watch,” Ron said, gesturing toward the house before sitting down by the fire himself.

This was his first night in this world. With a mixture of curiosity and vigilance, Ron studied his surroundings by the light of the fire.

The village was encircled by a wooden wall about a man’s height, with a well in the center. The houses were scattered about haphazardly, with no uniform building materials or style.

There were thatched huts, adobe houses, and stone dwellings, looking like they were built by thirty little pigs.

Looking up, he saw a starry sky that had only existed in his childhood memories. Especially now, with the arid climate, clouds were a rare sight, making the endless stars seem all the brighter to Ron’s eyes. They formed a stark contrast with the pitch-black backdrop of the distance.

Ron suddenly blinked. ’Did my eyes play a trick on me?’

’A few dark shadows seemed to have just flashed past the village entrance.’

’Could it be...’

Ron didn’t know whether he should be hopeful or not, but in any case, it was too late for speculation. The most important thing now was to protect himself.

But with no weapons at hand, Ron simply pulled a thick branch from the campfire. A cluster of flames still burned on its tip, pushing back the unknown darkness around him.