Lord of the Foresaken
Chapter 64: THE GOBLIN EVOLUTION

Chapter 64: THE GOBLIN EVOLUTION

Blood-streaked dawn broke over the Western Marshlands for the fifth consecutive day since Princess Elysandra’s assault. The fortress walls, once proud and imposing, now resembled a creature’s ribcage torn open by a predator—jagged, broken, and stained with viscera. Blackened craters scarred the earth where corruption magic had detonated, while heaps of bodies—some human, others unidentifiable—formed makeshift barricades across breached sections.

Reed stood atop the eastern watchtower, one of the few structures still intact, surveying the aftermath. His muscular form bore fresh wounds—a lattice of cuts across his torso where the Princess’s crystalline claws had found purchase. Black veins spread outward from each laceration, pulsing with unnatural vitality despite Lady Dalia’s healing attempts. His left ear was partially severed, the ragged edge cauterized by desperate battlefield medicine.

"Lord Reed." The voice came from behind him—not the gruff, throaty growl typical of goblin speech, but something more refined while maintaining the distinctive timbre of his species.

Reed turned to face Grimclaw, once a common foot soldier who had helped guard the artifact chamber. The transformation that had overtaken his subordinate remained shocking despite having witnessed it for several days now. Grimclaw stood straighter, his previously hunched posture now erect and dignified. His eyes, once tiny yellow orbs filled with simple cunning, now gleamed with amber intelligence. Most remarkably, the crude bone piercings that had adorned his face had been removed, the holes healing with unprecedented speed, leaving only faint marks on his forest-green skin.

"The survivors are gathered as requested," Grimclaw reported, his vocabulary and diction startlingly improved. "Seventeen in total. All showing signs of the... evolution."

Reed nodded, muscles tensing beneath his tattered commander’s cloak. "And what of those who were exposed but show no changes?"

"Unchanged in mind, but their physical recovery rates have nearly doubled," Grimclaw responded, producing a meticulously written report scroll—another novelty, as most goblins barely managed crude pictographs before the transformation. "Goreface took three arrows to the chest yesterday. He should be dead. Instead, he pulled them out himself and rejoined the battle within hours."

They descended the watchtower’s winding staircase, passing goblin sentries who saluted with precise military form rather than the chaotic enthusiasm typical of their kind. Reed noticed subtle changes in each—elongated craniums, more defined musculature, eyes that assessed and calculated where before they would have simply reacted.

The main hall had been converted into a field hospital following the Princess’s attack. Wounded fighters from various species lay on makeshift pallets—humans, elves, orcs, and goblins intermingled without the usual racial segregation that would have been unthinkable weeks earlier. The shared enemy had erased centuries of prejudice in mere days.

Against the far wall stood seventeen goblins, segregated from the others not by choice but necessity. Each displayed advanced stages of the transformation first observed in Grimclaw. Their skin had shifted from motley shades of green and yellow to deeper, more uniform forest tones. Their traditionally uneven yellow fangs had straightened and whitened. Most striking were their eyes—now displaying a range of amber to golden hues, with slitted pupils that contracted precisely in response to light.

"Brothers," Reed addressed them, noting how they formed a perfect semicircle without prompting, an un-goblinlike display of discipline. "How do you feel?"

A female goblin stepped forward—Shivblade, once a scout notorious for her feral hunting methods. Now she moved with liquid grace, her previously matted fur adornments replaced with braided leather straps holding an assortment of precision knives.

"We are... more, Lord Reed," she answered, her voice melodic yet edged with steel. "Memories sharpen. Thoughts clarify. Words come easier." She gestured to her brethren. "We understand things now. The artifacts. The network. The war that spans beyond physical boundaries."

Reed studied her closely. "And your loyalty?"

"Unquestioned," answered another evolved goblin without hesitation. "But not from fear as before. From understanding. From choice."

Lady Serena entered the hall, her face drawn with exhaustion. Her expedition to the Frost Spire had been canceled after the Princess’s attack necessitated all hands for defense. She regarded the transformed goblins with poorly concealed fascination.

"It’s accelerating," she observed quietly to Reed. "Three days ago, only Grimclaw showed these changes. Now seventeen?"

Reed nodded grimly. "All who spent significant time near the joined artifacts. The resonance affected them somehow."

"Affected?" Serena raised an eyebrow. "Reed, they’ve advanced centuries of evolution in days. Their cranial structure, their linguistic capabilities, their cognitive processes—they’re fundamentally different beings now."

"We can hear you perfectly well," Shivblade noted with dry amusement. "And yes, we are different. But we remain goblins. We remain loyal to Lord Reed."

Reed gestured for them to follow as he led the way to a chamber adjacent to the main hall. Inside, three human scouts lay strapped to examination tables, their eyes solid black, bodies contorted in unnatural positions despite the restraints. Black veins pulsed beneath their skin as they hissed and spat curses in languages no living being should know.

"Captured during the Princess’s retreat," Reed explained to the evolved goblins. "Fully possessed. Lady Dalia and Lyra have attempted purification without success."

One of the possessed humans twisted its head at an impossible angle, vertebrae cracking audibly as it fixed its obsidian eyes on the newcomers. "Little green vessels," it hissed, voice layered with multiple tones speaking in unsettling harmony. "Unintended consequences. The Herald sees your metamorphosis and laughs. Your evolution serves us."

Reed watched the evolved goblins carefully, noting their reactions. Where ordinary goblins might have cowered or responded with simple aggression, these seventeen studied the possessed with analytical intensity.

Grimclaw approached the bound human despite the danger, leaning close to examine the black veins. Without warning, the possessed lunged upward, restraints creaking as it snapped jagged teeth mere inches from the goblin’s face. Grimclaw didn’t flinch.

"Fascinating," he remarked, turning to Reed. "The corruption cannot reach me. I feel its probing, but it finds no purchase."

Reed’s eyes narrowed. "You’re certain?"

"Absolutely," confirmed Shivblade, joining Grimclaw’s inspection. "It’s similar to Shia’s resistance, but different in fundamental ways. We aren’t immune by birth—we’ve become unreceptive through transformation."

This revelation sent Reed’s mind racing with tactical possibilities. Since the beginning, their greatest disadvantage had been the risk of possession—the constant fear that any ally could become an enemy in an instant. If the evolved goblins were truly resistant...

"We need to test this systematically," Reed decided. "Under controlled conditions."

Over the next several hours, the evolved goblins underwent a series of increasingly dangerous exposures to corruption. They handled tainted artifacts, touched the black ichor that flowed from possessed wounds, and even allowed themselves to be enclosed in chambers with concentrated miasma extracted from the possessed humans. None showed any signs of succumbing.

By nightfall, Reed had assembled a war council unlike any in history—the seventeen evolved goblins formed an inner circle around him, with Lady Serena, Lord Everett, Lyra, and Lady Dalia completing the assembly. The evolved goblins had organized themselves into specialized divisions based on their emerging strengths: tactical analysis, artifact research, combat innovation, and intelligence gathering.

"If we can reproduce this evolution in more goblins," Grimclaw suggested, pointing to a meticulously drawn map displaying goblin settlements across the realm, "we could create an army immune to possession."

"The process requires prolonged exposure to the joined artifacts," Shivblade countered. "And we have only three. The rest are either lost or being pursued by the Herald’s forces."

Reed stroked his chin thoughtfully, wincing as his fingers brushed the black-veined wounds on his face. "There may be another way. Lady Dalia, you’ve studied the artifacts’ resonance patterns. Could you replicate that energy artificially?"

The sorceress frowned. "Perhaps, but the power requirements would be immense. And we don’t fully understand what we’d be tampering with."

"I might have a solution," offered an evolved goblin who had been a shaman before his transformation. Where he once relied on crude naturalistic rituals, he now spoke of magical theory with sophisticated understanding. "The marshlands contain rare minerals that amplify magical resonance. Combined with modified focusing crystals..."

As the discussion continued, Reed found himself increasingly impressed by the evolved goblins’ contributions. Ideas flowed with a clarity and innovation that would have been unimaginable from ordinary goblins. The transformation wasn’t merely physical or intellectual—it represented an entirely new way of being.

Later that night, while the others rested, Reed retreated to his private chamber. The three artifacts lay on a specially constructed table, their eerie luminescence casting long shadows across the stone walls. He produced the small crystal shard he had secretly kept—the fragment that had given him the disturbing vision of the ancient entity.

"You didn’t anticipate this, did you?" he murmured to the shard. "The goblin evolution. It wasn’t part of your grand design."

The shard pulsed faintly, almost like a heartbeat.

Reed allowed himself a rare smile. "Our ’primitive’ goblin physiology responded to your network in ways you never imagined. And now we’re becoming something new—something beyond your control."

A soft knock interrupted his thoughts. Shivblade entered, carrying scrolls filled with detailed drawings and calculations.

"The council has prepared preliminary strategies for integrating evolved goblins into our defense structure," she reported, laying the documents before him. "Additionally, we’ve analyzed the artifact resonance patterns and believe we can create a scaled-down version to begin transforming select volunteers."

Reed examined the scrolls, impressed by their sophistication. "You completed all this in hours?"

"Our minds work differently now," Shivblade explained. "Faster. More connected. We seem to share intuitive leaps without verbalization." She hesitated before adding, "There’s something else. Something we’ve discovered about our origins."

Reed raised an eyebrow. "Go on."

"The artifact network wasn’t just designed to imprison the entities," she said carefully. "It was also meant to elevate certain species—to create guardians who could maintain the seals across generations." Her golden eyes met his directly. "Goblins were intended to be those guardians, Lord Reed. Not humans, not elves. Us. Our seemingly primitive form was actually... dormant. Waiting for the right catalyst to awaken our true potential."

Reed absorbed this revelation in silence. It explained much—the natural affinity goblins showed for certain ancient sites, their surprising resilience to magical corruption compared to other races, their ability to thrive in environments tainted by otherworldly energies.

"If this is true," he said finally, "then our evolution isn’t an accident. It’s a restoration of what we were always meant to become."

Shivblade nodded. "And it means the artifacts respond to goblin blood in ways they don’t to other races. The network recognizes us as its rightful operators."

The implications were staggering. For centuries, goblins had been relegated to the margins of society—viewed as primitive, brutal creatures fit only for menial tasks or cannon fodder in human wars. The truth revealed them as potentially the most important species in the struggle against the Herald and the ancient horrors it served.

"Gather the evolved council," Reed commanded, a new fire burning within him. "We need to accelerate our plans. If goblins are the rightful wielders of the artifact network, then we must claim that heritage before the Herald completes the Awakening."

Over the following days, the fortress transformed. Under the evolved council’s guidance, crude defenses were replaced with sophisticated structures incorporating both ancient goblin techniques and modern engineering principles. The first attempts at artificially inducing evolution in selected goblin volunteers yielded promising results—five more showed early signs of transformation without direct artifact exposure.

Reed watched with growing pride as his once-disparaged people rose to heights none could have imagined. Where human nobles had always treated goblin service as a necessary evil, now they looked to the evolved council with respect and even deference on matters of strategy and magical theory.

On the seventh morning after the Princess’s attack, Reed stood before an assembled force of thirty evolved goblins—the original seventeen plus the newly transformed. They wore specialized armor of goblin design, enhanced by Lady Dalia’s enchantments and Lord Everett’s metallurgical knowledge.

"Today we move beyond defense," Reed announced. "Today we take the fight to the Herald. Our first mission: reclaiming the Void Scepter from Khar’Mokesh."

The evolved goblins responded not with the chaotic cheering typical of their kind, but with solemn, determined nods. They understood the gravity of the task ahead—entering the abandoned ancestral city where reality itself had been sundered a millennium ago.

As final preparations were made for departure, Reed felt a sudden, sharp pain in his chest. He staggered slightly, pressing a hand against his armor. When he withdrew it, his palm was smeared with black ichor leaking through his clothing.

The wounds from Princess Elysandra’s attack weren’t healing—they were spreading. Black veins now covered nearly half his torso, creeping steadily toward his heart.

Shivblade noticed immediately, her golden eyes widening with concern. "Lord Reed..."

Reed straightened, wiping the evidence away. "It’s nothing. The mission proceeds as planned."

But as he turned to lead his evolved warriors toward the first true offensive against the Herald’s forces, Reed felt something stirring within his corrupted wounds—an alien presence taking root in his flesh, whispering secrets directly into his bloodstream.

And worst of all, some traitorous part of his mind welcomed its insights.

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