Lord: Starting from a Goblin Nest

‘To think, after living for so many years, there’d come a day when I’m backed into a corner by a pack of mad dogs…’

A figure suddenly appeared in the garden of Hendrix’s backyard. He was covered in numerous lacerations, but he didn’t dare linger. He quickly vanished again, reappearing in another direction a moment later.

But his efforts were futile.

“AWOOO—BARK!” The ghostly howls still echoed in his ears, even though those pathetic creatures couldn’t withstand the scorching sun to continue their hunt. Patrick lifted his arm. Under his hazy, dreamlike gaze, the wounds on it were healing at an incredible speed.

But Patrick knew this was nothing more than a trick of the mind, a temporary comfort—his power didn’t stem entirely from his physical body, but his weakness was showing itself plainly on this mortal shell.

‘Why… Why are there Night Howling Hounds hunting me in the Ethereal Plane?!’

The Lord Bishop raised his head, his gaze crossing the street to land on the Ghost Witch who had just disappeared after toying with a crowd of mortals. ‘Was it her? Are these her pets?’

‘But how could that be? This Ghost Witch isn’t that powerful. She’s no “Auntie,” let alone a “Grandmother.” She couldn’t possibly have enough spare power to control these creatures and have them hunt on the Ethereal Plane!’

‘But it doesn’t matter. Things may have spun a little out of control, but this isn’t the worst it could be. After all, I still have a backup plan.’

Patrick broke away and bolted for the upper floor of Hendrix’s manor. He knew of a secret room in the second-floor study where an altar was dedicated to the master whom both he and his own master served. If he could just get there, he could return to hell! He could go back to his favorite place behind the scenes, manipulating and toying with these ignorant mortals as if they were marionettes!

He ran, shouldering open the door, crossing the corridor, and charging toward the stairs that led directly to the study. What did it matter that the Night Howling Hounds were tracking his position on the Ethereal Plane? Sunlight poured all over the staircase; these evil henchmen with their half-dog, half-man faces couldn’t hope to hinder him in the slightest!

Patrick’s hand was already on the handrail, his foot already on the first step. This “youngest” Bishop, who had enjoyed a meteoric rise within the Molten Iron Barrier, lifted his head to face the brilliant sunlight. If all went according to plan, a boundless future awaited him.

However, as a professional researcher, Ron refused to accept such a margin of error.

A black feather appeared from nowhere, drifting lightly down toward Patrick’s face along a sunbeam. A jolt of terror shot through Patrick. His figure vanished, but the teleportation—which should have been foolproof—was interrupted by a familiar power. The Lord Bishop was forced to reappear right where he had started.

A wide wing covered in jet-black feathers blotted out the sun, causing Patrick’s pupils to contract. He struggled against the magical confinement, forcibly breaking free and twisting his body to flee. But behind him, now that the sun’s might was blocked, several large, translucent canine creatures emerged from the Ethereal Plane. They usually appeared no larger than ordinary hounds when with their mistress, but during a hunt, each one became a massive monster standing over five feet tall at the shoulder and weighing nearly four hundred fifty pounds. It only took two or three of them to completely block Patrick’s retreat.

Watched by a sea of scarlet, bloodthirsty eyes, Patrick instinctively raised his head, searching for an escape route above. But there, a metal Thorn Chain bristling with hooks and spikes dangled down. An elf with a gaunt face, You, looked down like a ghost upon the hopelessly trapped victim.

“What are you looking at, dear?” a languid voice drifted down from the stairs behind Patrick. Along with the click-clack of high heels on the steps, the grating scrape of a blade against the wall rang out discordantly.

The Desire Demon looked the cornered man up and down with a playful gaze, like a cat toying with a mouse. “What should I call you? Lord Bishop, or Patrick?”

“No, no, you don’t understand! You of all people should understand!” Patrick cried out frantically to the Desire Demon, trapped with nowhere to go. “I’m not a Bishop, and I’m certainly not Patrick!”

“There’s no such person as Bishop Patrick in this world!”

Beneath his skin, another power began to surge. Crimson hide burst through its superficial bonds, and a pair of leathery, crimson wings tore through his back and unfurled. At the same time, from “Patrick’s” head, a pair of distinctly devilish horns sprouted, twisting as they grew upward.

“Look at me, friend! I’m a devil! We’re on the same side!”

“Listen, Desire Demon, I don’t care what deal you made with those mortals, but you’re facing one of your own—I’m from hell too! I’m on urgent, official business!”

“Break your contract with those mortals! Aren’t you Desire Demons masters of exploiting loopholes? Let me go, and Lord Dispart will reward you handsomely for it!”

“Patrick” knew that all rhetoric was futile against a fellow devil—and a high-ranking one at that. Nevertheless, he had to buy himself an opportunity.

At the same time, his mind raced. ‘Why is the Desire Demon here? What is her relationship with those mortals? How can I handle this so she’ll let me go?’

The Desire Demon Kaogu didn’t interrupt his speech. She paused her advance, and after patiently listening to everything “Patrick” had to say, she bloomed into a smile as brilliant as the sun behind her.

“You mentioned… ‘urgent business’?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” the devil nodded eagerly. “Lord Dispart needs the Molten Iron Barrier, and also the Abyssal Silver Vein in the Delusional Land! That’s why he assigned me to orchestrate this whole charade!”

“Mortals are insignificant here, aren’t they? If you ruin this plan, Lord Dispart will lodge a protest with Princess Gracia!”

‘Gracia may be Asmodis’s daughter, but that doesn’t mean she has more power or status than the other Dukes—at least, not until the Lord of Nine Hells grants it to her.’ The devil had made up his mind. The bigger he made this sound, the better his chances of convincing her to let him go.

“Mortals are indeed insignificant. On that point, I completely agree with you,” Kaogu said with a nod. “They are nothing but pawns in the game between us, the gods, and the Abyss.”

But the instant the devil breathed a sigh of relief, the Desire Demon’s beautiful face twisted into a vicious snarl.

“But you know what? That pawn in Delusional Land? We claimed it first!”