Master Says the Drawn Traits Must Not Be Wasted

Chapter 163: Chapter 162: The ”Lone” Fat Dog

On a muddy forest path, two similar-looking goblin lackeys staggered along, dragging their ragged weapons.

Their stomachs had long been rumbling with hunger, but they didn’t dare return to their cave just yet.

Before autumn ended, they had to stockpile enough food to survive the coming winter.

The giant goblin chieftain in their cave had given the order: every goblin had to go out and gather food. If they failed to collect enough, they would become the ”winter rations” themselves.

The goblin named Gula hacked aimlessly at the roadside weeds with a rusty dagger and grumbled, ”Tummy go grumble... Geji, what we gnaw tonight, ga?”

The goblin named Geji sniffled, his beady little yellow eyes darting around, filled with a craving for food. ”Ugh... Meat-meat, ga?”

Gula leaped up and slapped Geji on the back of the head. ”Stupid, ga! Where’s meat, ga? Hmph.” He let out a disappointed grunt, patting his own shriveled belly.

Just then, Geji suddenly pointed excitedly toward the side of the road up ahead.

”Four-legger! Small one, all alone, ga!”

Not far away, a yellow-and-white creature was lying there, lazily licking its fur.

Gula was practically drooling. ”Fresh meat-meat! It’ll go THUMP THUMP when it runs, real chewy, ga!”

Geji rubbed his hands together. ”Quiet, ga... Sneak over! You left, I right! One SNAP, and we gnaw it tonight, ga!”

Gula raised his dagger, hissing with excitement. ”Good, ga! Legs for you. I want tummy. Fatty, ga!”

The two goblins crouched and dove into the bushes, making rustling sounds and suppressed, wicked laughter. ”HEHEHE...”

”HEHEHE...”

A third ”Hehe...” came from the shadows under a tree.

Holding a thick wooden club, Hesia appeared like a phantom and brought it down on Gula’s head.

At the same time, Bruce leaped out and sank his teeth precisely into Geji’s calf.

Hesia swung the club backhanded, finishing off the other one.

Looking at the two goblins on the ground, their eyes rolled back and their tongues lolling out, Hesia nodded in satisfaction.

”Eight. That should be enough. Let’s get ready to head back to town.”

Bruce dragged a small cart out from the bushes, and Hesia tossed the two goblins onto it.

To catch the number of goblins Trist required, Hesia had gotten up extra early.

For this task, he had even brought along a small cart to carry them.

However, since Trist wanted the goblins alive, they couldn’t just knock them out, leave them behind, and then come back to pick them up one by one.

Besides, these lone goblins were incredibly timid; the moment they saw a man and a dog together, they would turn tail and flee.

So, Hesia had Bruce find a spot with the strongest goblin scent, then had him lie down in a conspicuous place—just like before—and pretend to be napping.

Meanwhile, he hid in the shadows using [Shadow Escape].

Any passing goblins who saw a ”lone,” plump dog would find it hard to resist the temptation.

...

With the soul of Vio Bell possessing a slightly stronger goblin to pull the cart, Hesia and Bruce set off on the road back to Rose Town.

”Hesia, last time, did you say one green-skinned runt’s ear can be exchanged for two Silver Scales?” Bruce asked as he trotted along.

”Yes. At the guild, it counts as completing Rose Town’s official standing commission.”

”Then a whole goblin weighs so much more than an ear. Can’t we ask that guy for lots and lots of money?”

”It doesn’t work like that. The guild’s reward is for killing a whole goblin; the ear is just proof. With Trist, I estimate we’d be lucky to get five Silver Scales at most.”

Bruce’s doggy brain worked furiously. ”Then can we cut off the ears first and give them to the guild, then give the earless ones to Trist? That way, we’d get seven Silver Scales!”

”I have to admit, sometimes that doggy brain of yours really works.”

Hearing this, Bruce’s canine face fell. ”Hesia, I know now that ’doggy brain’ is an insult.”

Hesia gave an awkward laugh and quickly changed the subject. ”That’s not important. How’s your practice with those ’greetings’ I taught you last time?”

”I’ve learned them, but will they actually be useful?” Bruce was skeptical.

”Of course they’ll be useful. Didn’t I tell you? As long as you successfully enrage your opponent, your flames will become more powerful.”

Hesia even double-checked the description for [Weak Red Dragon Bloodline] in his mind—’After successfully enraging an opponent, a strong sense of superiority will greatly inspire your Spellcasting instinct.’

Bruce muttered, ”What I mean is, are the words you taught me useful... I’ve never heard anyone curse like that before.”

Hesia was full of confidence. ”Don’t worry, they’re definitely useful!”

After all, when it came to the art of cursing, the Eastern civilization from another world was on a completely different level.

...

In the basement of the Wand Shop.

Trist was outlining the plot of his novel, the tip of his quill making SCRITCH-SCRATCH sounds on the parchment.

Just then, the sound of heavy footsteps from the dark stairwell interrupted his thoughts.

A hint of anticipation couldn’t help but appear on his face.

After all, gnawing on dry, hard bread for several days straight had left him weary of the world. Only the insatiable emptiness in his stomach reminded him that he was still alive.

”Have they finally arrived? I just wonder how many goblins there will be,” he muttered to himself. ”I hope there are a lot. After all, it’s been a long time since I’ve...”

As a figure slowly emerged from the darkness, he prepared to flash the ”amiable” smile he had been practicing for the past few days.

The next second, his mouth fell slightly open, the smile frozen on his face.

A large goblin emerged from the darkness and walked right up to him, carrying two other tightly bound goblins on its shoulders.

After placing its ”cargo” on the ground, the ”porter” goblin headed back to the stairs. A moment later, it returned, carrying two more.

Trist stared, dumbfounded, as the goblin, after having transported seven of its brethren, voluntarily lay down on the ground itself.

”Is this... some kind of magic? To make the ingredients deliver themselves?”

Immediately after, the long-awaited Mr. Galen appeared before him, carrying several cloth bags of various sizes.

”Whew... These stairs are really long,” Hesia said, placing the bags on the table and catching his breath. ”In here is some Split Hoof Beef, two chickens, and some vegetables and things.”

Then, the Human Mage who, in Trist’s mind, radiated sunshine, walked over to the table and placed a dark-colored jar and a thick book upon it.

”This is a Special Sauce I got from a Half-Beastman who runs a tavern. You can try it when you’re cooking.” Hesia pointed to the dark jar, then to the book. ”This book was a gift from my teacher. I’m lending it to you for a look. I think some of the cooking techniques inside are worth learning.”