Lord: Starting from a Goblin Nest

Aive’s defenses were the best in the group. With her tower shield and full body armor, she was a walking fortress against these puppets, whose strongest weapons were merely rapiers and hand crossbows.

If even she couldn’t avoid injury, the others didn’t stand a chance. The situation had truly deteriorated to a perilous state.

”You serve me, so don’t even think of fleeing the battle!” Silvia dragged the Night Howling Hounds back from the Astral Plane for what felt like the dozenth time. While the poor creatures were immune to conventional weapons, the real Saran, hidden somewhere within the tide of puppets, was more than capable of killing them.

Now, however, they were completely surrounded by a sea of puppets, with no choice but to hold off as many as possible for Sera.

”Do you really think you can shatter the Soul Furnace with that sword?” the ”Sarans” cackled mockingly, intensifying their frenzied assault on Devin Booker. ”You can’t do a single thing!”

”I was the previous holder of the Amethyst Slate! That sword is nothing but a traitor’s weapon, a symbol of disgrace! Even if it and the Soul Furnace both originate from the northern Beastman Tribes, it’s absolutely impossible—”

Saran’s voice cut off abruptly. Many of his puppets were destroyed on the spot due to his momentary distraction, but that did nothing to lessen his shock.

The Soul Furnace was a Legendary Item he had acquired in the Delusional Land, and it was linked to his very soul. Yet, just as the barbarian he so disdained raised the Grip of the Vast Wave high and brought it crashing down, a shrill crack echoed through his soul—the sound of the Furnace itself!

”She can... damage you? Impossible! That’s absolutely impossible!”

”Actions speak louder than words!” a crazed voice cried out from beside the Soul Furnace. It belonged to a madman, naked from the waist up and covered in scars.

”You thought the great Prophet was a flawed creation! But you unwittingly caused his awakening, allowing him to transcend this mortal coil!” The madman clawed at the side of the Furnace, slowly pulling himself up. One of his legs was severed clean at the hip, the stump a festering, maggot-ridden mess. It was a miracle he was still alive.

If Sera remembered him, she would recognize him as the bandit she had spared outside the Carolina Trading Station.

Somehow, he had appeared here—crippled, mad, and now calling himself some kind of Prophet.

What’s more, he had used Spike to spread a message, a message that brought Sera and her sword—Rusaike Xue Ming’s Grip of the Vast Wave—to this very place!

Here and now, at this very moment, to destroy the Soul Furnace!

”Stop her!” Saran Lane tried to divert some of his forces, only to realize with a shock that he had committed nearly his entire core puppet army to surrounding Devin Booker. But now, the tables had suddenly turned!

”You didn’t trap me—I trapped *you*!” Blood trickled from the Fishman’s mouth and gills. He was running on fumes, holding on by sheer force of will, yet this one Fishman was pinning down more than a dozen puppets, preventing them from moving an inch!

Seeing that the Baron could not help, the six Elf Skulls on the Furnace shrieked in unison. A thick, strange smoke poured from their mouths, enveloping Sera. But the smoke, meant to disorient the mind, did nothing to slow the berserk barbarian. With a furious roar, she brought her sword down, cleaving the still-whirring Furnace in two and shattering it into a million pieces!

”No—!” A heart-wrenching scream, entirely different from the voices of the ”Ming Datiss,” tore through the chaos. A dark figure shot out from the puppets like a whirlwind, desperately trying to gather the flying fragments, as if the priceless artifact possessed such unparalleled Magic Power that it could be restored even from smithereens.

The puppets, as if infected by his madness, lost all discipline and became like the walking dead. The red light in their eyes flared as they swore to tear everyone here to pieces.

The defenseless Paladin and the mad bandit-turned-Prophet were not spared. If Wilson and the others hadn’t still been suspended out of reach, they would have met the same fate.

”Nicely done!” Those were Devin Booker’s last words. Even as the puppets tore his head from his shoulders, the Sorol Fishman used his final moment of life to hurl his weapon, pinning one of the puppets to the ground.

But now, with their strongest pillar of support gone, Ron and the others were truly at the end of their rope.

”Damn it, cast some Magic!” Silvia frantically slammed her Walking Stick against the ground, but it was no use. Though the Night Howling Hounds didn’t tire, they weren’t tireless Mechanical Creatures either. Under the assault of countless crazed puppets, even they were gradually being swallowed by the tide.

CLANG— Aive staggered as her grip finally failed, the heavy tower shield falling from her hand. She was too exhausted. The high-intensity battle had pushed her far beyond her physical limits.

The others were in even worse shape than Aive.

”Excellent. Excellent! EXCELLENT!” Saran Lane snarled, his face a mask of savagery. He drew a Curved Blade, dropped to the ground, and began walking slowly toward them.

The fragments of the Furnace had lost all their luster. He tossed them to the ground without a second thought, discarding them like trash, just as he had his puppets.

”First it was those Crusaders from the deep, and now it’s you! You wretched races are all the same—impossible to kill, impossible to exterminate!” Baron Green Swamp brandished his Curved Blade, felling Delaford in two swift strikes as he charged. He then kicked Victoria aside and headed straight for Ron.

”You ignorant vermin! Do you have any idea how long I’ve been preparing?! One century! Two centuries! And you tore it all down in less than an hour!”

”But thankfully, I at least get the pleasure of killing you all today! Your skulls will adorn my new furnace and wail for all eternity, a sweet song for my grand design!”

”My puppets, kill them with me!”

The red-eyed puppets swarmed forward. But among these ”Ming Datiss,” Ron spotted a very unusual figure.

He, too, was a Ming Datiss, holding a rapier and letting out senseless howls from time to time. And yet... yet!

This so-called ”Ming Datiss” held his rapier in a way that was completely different from the others—he didn’t know how to use one at all!

”Saran Lane!” Ron pulled the last bottle of Blazing Fire Glue from his alchemy pouch. Ready to take the Baron Green Swamp down with him, he charged, using his own weight and momentum to tackle the man and send him staggering back several steps—