Lord: Starting from a Goblin Nest

A Half-Elf Warrior would naturally know how to don armor, but mentally controlling so many interlocking pieces was another matter entirely. Even with Ron helping her, Aive would still need some time to familiarize herself with it before she could command it as effortlessly as her own limbs.

“To be honest, I’ve only finished a portion of this Enchantment,” Ron said with a soft sigh as he watched Aive reassemble the Full Body Armor. “My current abilities are still insufficient. If I were to push it further, it would likely be counterproductive.”

“No, no, this is already amazing!” Aive raised her arm and tapped the tower shield, signaling for Silvia to help her test it. When Silvia summoned a ball of fire and hurled it at the shield, the flames burst, scattered, and vanished, leaving the shield’s surface gleaming like a mirror without a single trace.

“This is the best gear I’ve ever used—no, the best I’ve ever *seen*!”

“I’m glad you like it.” Ron scratched his head, deciding not to share any more of his insights. ‘Based on the previous model and a bit of inspiration, forget the Full Body Armor—this shield could have been even more powerful.’ However, Ron had left some openings on it so that when the time was right, he could resume his work at any moment.

With that business concluded, a night of feasting and revelry naturally followed. The long journey and nights spent roughing it in the wild tempered one’s will, but they were also mentally draining. Thus, whenever a major task was completed, such banquets were an essential ritual.

At the feast, Ron raised his cup, making the rounds toasting everyone for the umpteenth time. He wasn’t much of a drinker himself, but that didn’t stop him from plying others with alcohol. His companions, especially Sera and Delaford, thoroughly enjoyed the process. After getting the Goblin Hunter to chug another drink, Ron suddenly sensed something. He looked up toward the world outside the tavern. On the now pitch-black street, a hazy figure stood, seemingly beckoning to him.

‘This is New Green Swamp Town. My own turf. There’s nothing to be afraid of.’

“You all carry on. I’ll be right back.” Ron set down his cup. A shimmer of Arcane Magic washed over him, clearing his head. The Mage made his way past the equally drunk Kobold waiters and headed outside.

“*Hic!* Hey, Ron! Where’re you going? Get back here!” Delaford hiccuped, trying to follow him out. But the goblin was so drunk that after just two steps, his feet seemed to start fighting each other. The Hunter tripped over himself and was promptly dragged back to the table by Sera.

The others had noticed as well, but after getting a clear look at the visitor, they all lowered their heads, paying no more attention to what was happening outside.

For one, they were all certain this being would do nothing to harm Ron. For another, if she truly decided to make a move, they feared no one present would be able to stop her.

Not even Jilannis.

The Moon Elf poured herself another splash of Sherly wine, her eyes narrowing slightly as she feigned a casual glance at the events unfolding outside.

Beside her, Anastina’s senses seemed to be affected by Arcane Magic. The Mercenary, despite also possessing Dark Vision, had failed to notice the situation outside the tavern, or even that Ron had left his seat.

The night wind swept past the entrance of the “Gagawaah” tavern, blowing away the reek of alcohol that clung to Ron and bringing another scent with it. The familiar aroma made it unmistakably clear: the visitor was from Hell.

“Your Highness Gracia,” Ron said, giving her a slight bow out of respect. Several months had passed, and his etiquette was now more refined and proper than before. “Please forgive me, I wasn’t aware you would be visiting. Otherwise, I would have certainly saved a seat for you.”

He hadn’t seen her in months, but the Devil Duke was as elegant and possessed as much Charm as ever. She gave a slight wave of her hand, returning Ron’s gesture. “Spare me the pleasantries. I have no taste for wine brewed by Kobolds. That Sherly in the Moon Elf’s hands, however… I am interested in trying some.”

“Then would you…”

“Not here. That stuff may be a rarity in your town, but I have a cabinet overflowing with it at home,” Gracia—or more accurately, her avatar—said with a soft laugh. “However, I didn’t come to find you today to discuss vintages.”

“Since you’re already out, would you care to take a stroll with me?”

“The honor would be all mine.” Ron wasn’t just being polite. A post-feast stroll with a Devil Duke was not an experience afforded to just anyone.

Ron reached out and gently took the tips of Gracia’s fingers. A whirlwind laced with fire and sulfur rose from the ground, swiftly enveloping them both. When the vortex dissipated, Ron was startled to find himself on the rooftop of an enormous building.

‘This Gothic-style building looks… Why does it seem so familiar?’

“If you ask me, you should move your home here,” Gracia said, withdrawing her hand. She stood at the highest point of the Vampire Castle, admiring the moonlit scenery. “Give that other place entirely to your subjects. That is how you display your power and majesty as a Lord. Mingling with them like a common peasant is truly unbecoming.”

“Besides,” she added, “the original Delusional Land only referred to a region on this side of the mountains. The outlying areas were only included later on.”

“It’s too remote over here, which makes everything inconvenient,” Ron answered truthfully. ‘Besides, even if I lied, she could probably find out the truth on her own.’ “Also, Silvia inherited this castle. Theoretically, it’s her property.”

“Would that Half-blood truly object to you moving in?” Gracia scoffed. “Besides, theory is just talk. In practice, you can be the master of this place if you simply wish it.”

“I’d better not. It’s bad luck,” Ron said, walking to the edge of the castle roof and gazing at the two graves behind it. “The last family to live here didn’t meet a very good end.”

“A fellow like you, from a world with almost no Magic, and you believe in such things,” the Duke laughed. For a fleeting moment, her exquisite face was like a night-blooming cereus under the moon. “But you’re right about one thing. This place is indeed rather inauspicious.”

“Something from over a thousand years ago has resurfaced. And this time, it will be immensely powerful.”

“You mean…” A sense of foreboding stirred in Ron’s heart. ‘I knew it,’ he thought. ‘This Duke wouldn’t seek me out for a casual chat just because she was bored!’

“See for yourself,” Gracia said, pointing into the distance. “Oh, that’s right. I forgot you humans don’t have Dark Vision.”