Lord: Starting from a Goblin Nest

Mad Frogmen were also medium-sized creatures. Like frogs, these humanoids had smooth, moist skin, and their limbs were thick and powerful. The well-developed webbing between their hind toes granted them immense mobility, whether swimming in water or hopping on land.

However, this came at the cost of evolving slender waists and atrophied ribs. When a weight of a couple hundred pounds—counting both man and axe—slammed down from above, their body structure was almost instantly destroyed, leaving them no chance to deal with any follow-up attacks.

Seeing their companion attacked, the other pair immediately moved to provide support. But one had only taken a single step before a tower shield, wider than the creature itself, blocked its path. The other immediately let out a terrifying, ear-splitting croak, trying to summon its comrades for aid.

”SHLIIICK—”

A dagger sliced across its indistinct throat. The small and agile Delaford had slit its throat from behind. He then crouched down and began rubbing his ears incessantly.

”Damn it, that’s so loud...”

”Ray of Frost!” Ron unleashed a beam of frigid cold from his hand. The cantrip was remarkably similar to Flaming Arrow, so much so that Ron had learned it with ease. In this terrain littered with rotted plant matter, its effect was clearly much better than Flaming Arrow, which could cause collateral damage at any moment.

Under the assault of the five, the two remaining Mad Frogmen were powerless to resist and soon lost their lives.

”You’re finally here!”

From a hidden cave entrance nearby, a Secret Door opened and Klade strode out. ”These things have been setting traps everywhere. It’s driving me crazy!”

”Why didn’t you just come out and fight them?” Ron asked, watching Delaford who was busy disarming a trap. ”With your strength, it shouldn’t be too hard to drive them off, right?”

”They’d just come back after I chased them off. It’s pointless,” the earth goblin said with his hands on his hips. ”That’s why I sent someone to find you. The goal is to wipe them all out in one fell swoop.”

”But their nest is still there. They won’t give up such a rich hunting ground.”

”Exactly!” Klade said. ”What, are you planning to completely erase them from this place?”

”It mainly depends on what you want,” Ron said, half-joking.

”My wish is to bring the entire Delusional Land completely and utterly under our control!” Klade waved a hand behind him. ”Lads, stay close to your chief! We’re marching to war!”

On the other side of the river, after that cataclysmic man-made disaster, the scattered Mad Frogmen had returned to their territory, only to be shocked to find their treasury had been completely plundered.

Left with no choice, they began to expand their territory, seeking to use any means necessary to quickly replenish the ”Royal Treasury.”

As fate would have it, the direction they chose was north, toward Ron’s stronghold.

And today, the Mad Frogmen in the territory were, as usual, fighting amongst themselves in the camp over the few remaining trinkets, all to earn the right to present a treasure to their king.

Their squabbles were not without reason. During a previous conflict with bandits, most of the king’s elites had died in the underground cavern, along with his only steward. Now, these Mad Frogmen were fighting over those precious positions—even if they had already given themselves self-proclaimed noble titles like ”Duke” or ”Marquis.”

Normally, this competition took the form of arguments or brawls, but sometimes it escalated into more extreme methods, such as murder. However, killing a rival required immense courage and skill. If a Mad Frogman was discovered murdering one of its own kind, the punishment awaiting it was likely death.

Meanwhile, in the cave that served as the royal palace, the Mad Frogman King, having returned from a hunt to the north, was enjoying carnal pleasures with several of his mates, completely ignoring the noisy squabbles of his underlings outside.

But amidst this territory, so full of cutthroat vitality, a Mad Frogman sentry grew tired of all the chaos. It leaned against a large rock, set its spear and shield aside, and closed its eyes, preparing to take a short nap in the land of dreams.

It was completely unaware that the very instant it closed its eyes, a short, slender shadow swept past it with a flash of silver light.

The sentry didn’t even have time to sound an alarm before it collapsed to the ground, its breathing stopped.

”Boss, that powder of yours works like a charm!” Delaford casually lifted a corner of his cloak to wipe his sticky dagger, grinning smugly.

”Don’t wipe it on your clothes!” Victoria frowned. ”Do you have any idea how hard it is to wash out Mad Frogman slime?”

”Especially after it mixes with their blood,” Erin muttered, glancing at her own robes. ”I spent forever trying to scrub it off when we crossed the river.”

”Ask the villagers when we get back. They might have some soapberries,” Ron interjected. ”By the way, you were all doing laundry while I was out searching for herbs?!”

”You’re a noble Mage; you don’t have to wash things by hand—” Aive pouted. ”But we do. If we wait for these stains to dry, they’ll be even harder to get out.”

”Why do you have to wash it?” Sera looked at the others, completely baffled. ”This is proof of glory! Not every warrior from any tribe gets the chance to be stained with so many different kinds of blood!”

’Take the Ocher Tribe, for example. She’d bet that no one had ever boasted a record of hunting Mad Frogmen before!’

”I’ll help you clean it one of these days,” Victoria sighed in resignation. ”This isn’t the land of the Northern Barbarians, and you’re no longer a chief who can decide what others like or dislike. You have to be a bit more presentable when you’re with Ron.”

”What? No!”

’Victoria felt that, aside from Ron, she was probably the only normal person on this team: a goblin, a Barbarian... The Half-Elf Maiden was a bit better, but it was the first time she’d ever seen an Elf in armor wielding a tower shield!’

’Hadn’t Aive said her mother was a stereotypical longbowman?’

”Alright, stop messing around,” Ron said, peeking out from behind a rock at the sentry post to survey the Mad Frogman territory. ”The cave that housed the Mire Throat Monster has been completely abandoned. That means the largest one remaining should be their king’s residence.”

”In a bit, all of you cover your mouths and noses and keep your heads down, understand? I’m not a proper Alchemist; this powder doesn’t discriminate.”

”Then, can I have a sniff first?” Delaford tilted his head up, his face filled with curiosity. ”What’s it smell like?”

Ron looked at him, completely speechless. ”...Are you trying to set another record, something similar to chewing on medicinal paste?”