Trapped in Another World With No Magicc
Chapter 165: Nine Minus One Part 2

Chapter 165: Nine Minus One Part 2

The cold, squeezing grip of the dark depths of a hidden lake press inwards on Treia’s skin, while the crushing hold of a terrifying lurker of the same subterranean swamp threatens to break every one of her bones. Her body feels completely fragile now, like it might pop at any moment as would a gossamer bubble. Pain is searing every nerve ending she can process, from the deep parts of her skeleton to the burning fire in her lungs demanding she inhale a new breath.

Even if she wanted to inhale the water that surrounds her, which would drown her as quickly as any other means might take the gatonine’s life at present, the pol’vapporr’s powerful hand-like appendage has no intention of granting her enough room for her chest to expand even a little.

She can taste the bitter marsh water on her tongue from it filling her gaping mouth as she tries to inhale. She can barely think of anything other than trying to move even a little bit so she can try to fight for a breath.

Meanwhile, what little light squeezes into the hidden lake is fading as the gatonine woman loses consciousness. Her last breath has already been forced out of her body by the monster, and now, the most she can do is pray everyone else makes it out safely.

No… I… I want to live, too! P-Please, let me live! I’m not ready to leave my family! My friends! Hestori! Germeil! Mother! Father! I… I’m sorry! Please don’t let me die! Please… Daniel…

Krak-KABOOM!

A terrifyingly loud boom splits Treia’s delicate ears, and the monster shrieks as it finally releases her. She still hasn’t even seen it, as it was moving her through the water with its long arms, apparently reaching up from the bottom of the lake.

With her armor and having virtually nothing left, Treia continues to sink into the water as the light brightens only briefly.

However, her body demands an inhale the moment she is free of the monster’s clutches, and swampy water instantly floods her respiratory tract. She coughs in futility, no longer having any air to cough out.

As her consciousness truly slips away, she feels somewhat like the water suddenly begins to glow faintly and move away from her.

***

Treia coughs as light starts to trickle into her consciousness. Sensation is starting to come back to her, starting with the burning in her lungs and displaced liquid in her throat.

However, the burning in her lungs is replaced by a pounding on her chest, and she coughs and vomits once more. She is still coming to her senses, but she can tell that she is being moved by someone else to lay on her side, helping her spit up the water and other fluids she inhaled.

“That’s it, Treia. Clear it out and breathe.”

She recognizes the voice, and were her eyes not filled with tears already, she would begin sobbing almost immediately.

When she can finally focus and tilt her eyes, she finds Daniel kneeling over her as he keeps watch over her. There are rifle shots booming in the forest, and it sounds like a battle.

“It doesn’t have ignityal sacks,” remarks Daniel, seeming to read her mind.

“Its brain also isn’t in its head like the dragons, so they’re barraging it with volleys.” Daniel looks over Treia in the direction that Treia is turned toward. “We’re winning.”

Senn steps up close beside Daniel, matching gazes with Treia. “How are you feeling, Treia?”

The gatonine tries to speak, but she coughs. Daniel takes her hand to reassure her, and she squeezes it firmly. She wants to cry, but she’s wholly exhausted, and she’s missing the battle.

Finally, the young sandy-brunette manages to rasp out, “I… didn’t think I’d make it…”

Daniel smiles, and she finally notices that he is soaked, scratched, and bruised. “What happened to you?”

The human scoffs lightly, looking towards a group composed of Veiranoei, Vaergraes, Peiburi, and Goelselmo as they tend to the Uhl’tall archpriestess. “Vae and I had a bit of a tumble.”

“Did you fall into the water?”

“Not quite…” murmurs Daniel. “I… only  have a gut feeling right now…”

“Gut… feeling?” asks Treia.

Daniel nods. He looks to where Aoloan is crouched with Gwenesphia, firing on the gigantic creature. It is tangled with its own humongous vine-like arms, with several of its hands severed. The grey dragon Neith is in his human form, watching over Gwenesphia, Aoloan, Kuboen, Helbeit, and Resken as they hit the exhausted monster with rifle shots, trying to find its weak point. 

Considering how lanky and soft the creature looks at a glance, it takes a surprising amount of punishment. Though, none of the powerful mages present are unleashing spells on it, even with its arms effectively disabled.

The otherworlder human murmurs softly so only Treia and Senn can hear, “I’m not sure, but I’m not wholly convinced Vae ran out of mana.”

This makes Treia’s heart tighten a little as she tries to sit up. “V-Vae?”

“I have some thoughts, but no proof…” murmurs Daniel. “You didn’t detect any abnormal spells?” His question is directed at Senn, who replies equally softly, “I didn’t, but between Hallowed Ground and Vaergraes’ Weightless Elemental Lift, that’s not a definitive exclusion.”

Daniel nods, and Treia asks wearily, “What happened, then?”

The mechanic looks as the attack team is closing in on the pol’vapporr, which seems to have finally lost the last of its fight.

The inexperienced Emperor looks at his gatonine consort with a serious expression. It’ll be easy enough to recap at least.

***

Shortly before, as the group is fleeing the strange marsh floor that hides a dark-water lake in the middle of a massive forest, Aoloan stumbles slightly. Daniel would help her without a thought, since they’re on a time limit, but he’s already carrying Vaergraes, who is visibly losing strength trying to suspend the majority of the water from that hidden swamp in the air to make it easier for Neith to rescue Treia.

His instincts are telling him that her eyes flashed with mana when she looked at Daniel and Vaergraes, but it could easily have been a trick of the light.

That said, Daniel can feel Vaergraes go limp in his arms, and she gasps out, “D-Daniel…”

The mechanic curses under his breath, trying to maintain his speed. Rather, he decides that caution is no longer an option. Hundreds of thousands of pounds of water are floating above him, and if it breaks through the floor, he may not be able to free himself and Vaergraes if they’re trapped underneath, similar to ice.

He can hear the telltale watery splashing and gurgling of the titanic mass of liquid starting to move.

It’s not a Hollywood movie, of course. Daniel knows this, and he doesn’t for a second believe he can actually outrun a million gallons of water. He tries to focus on getting as far away from the center as possible, and he braces Vaergraes as much as he can to try to keep from losing hold of her.

The impact hits him suddenly and forcefully, seemingly swooping upwards from the lowest point. He does his best to squeeze Vaergraes to his chest as he is catapulted off of his feet, simultaneously swallowed by a small tsunami.

The mechanic loses his hold on the Uhl’tall archpriestess, and they both tumble across the hard roots and scratchy plants as the water pulls them downwards as quickly as it battered them around. The mesh false ground of the hidden marsh allows the water through deceptively quickly, so it’s not the full force of the water that is hitting them, and it diffuses even faster the further they get away from the center.

The wayward Earthling coughs, spitting up water that managed its way into his mouth. He quickly calls out, “I’m alright, Geira. Please don’t rush in.”

Her voice immediately snaps back at him in his helmet, “You’re too reckless! Why must you do this yourself!?”

“I need to see and react to things. I’m sorry.” He scrambles up to his feet to jog to Vaergraes. Thankfully, she’s starting to sit up already, though she’s a little dazed and battered by the tumble against the forest floor.

“Vae!? You alright?”

“I… I’m still here, Daniel…” She coughs as well, having briefly choked on some water, and Daniel catches his breath briefly, glancing around to survey his situation. He has questions for Aoloan, but he’s not sure how best to address it. That said, he’s genuinely worried about her, because he believes there is more to it than her betraying him. He might be naive, but his gut is telling him he’s missing something, and to not jump to conclusions too quickly.

That said, Aoloan comes jogging up from ahead of them, far less wet than Daniel or Vaergraes, and suspiciously uninjured. “Daniel! Vaergraes!” She crouches to check on them both, and Vaergraes wearily tries to climb to her feet. They need to get out of the reach of the monster.

“I’m alright. I think my mana faltered. That was my fault. I’m sorry, Daniel.”

“It’s fine. That was incredible. Can you move?”

She tests her own footing, and she gives an affirmative bob of her head. The three of them continue towards the regroup area, though Daniel and Aoloan stay close to Vaergraes when she limps slightly. She’s a capable healing magic user, but there isn’t enough time to delay and use it on herself just yet.

Daniel finds the grip of his revolver and keeps his hand near it, just in case. He can’t keep giving Aoloan the benefit of the doubt, even if she isn’t his true enemy, because she is a dangerous individual at the moment.

The more he thinks about it, the more certain he is that she did something. How Vaergraes didn’t notice, nor could the powerful archmage resist the spell, he’s not sure. But, he’s positive that something will need to be done much sooner than he originally thought.

Whoever it is has decided to press the situations that have arisen, and it seems to be related to the cursed object the infiltrator had given the timing of it all.

So, what does an infiltrator, an insider already present, and that cravat ring have to do with each other?

As he thinks this, the ground rumbles from the monster behind them shrieking loudly.

At once, Daniel remembers the strange dream he had after being cursed by that same ring.

That abyssal creature… Could it be related somehow? But, how? Was it the Strylak?

Daniel remembers asking about dream magic, and he’ll need someone capable of it to try to pull that dream out.

Interesting… Was I the target? Or was Vae?

The mechanic glances at Vaergraes, who is straining to walk. Her injuries are worse than she’s letting on, and once they reach solid ground, he guides her to where Veiranoei flags them down. “Daniel! Vaergraes! Aoloan! Over here!”

They move to her area, and she helps Daniel seat the Uhl’tall woman so she can be tended to.

Veiranoei explains, “Sir Neith has Treia over there, but she’s not breathing.”

“I’m on it!” shouts Daniel, not missing a beat to jog in the direction she points. He finds Neith easily, trying to feed Treia a potion.

“I got it!” calls out Daniel, dropping into position immediately as Neith backs off.

“This is yet another failure of mine, my Liege…”

“No,” replies Daniel as he puts his cheek near her mouth and nose, watching her chest. “She was underwater for too long.”

The mechanic is one of the weakest beings in the world of Zenkon, possessing no magic of his own, though what he had was taken from him by the curse. Anyone present could fairly easily kill him with a fraction of their effort if he doesn’t take the initiative in the attack.

Today, the initiative is working to save her as quickly as he can. And, to do that, he needs to remove her light armor. He uses a knife from the back of his belt, cutting the straps and pulling her armor away. Thankfully, her undershirt is a simple cotton tee-shirt, so he won’t need to pull it away as well.

But, he comes from a world that didn’t have magic. Science, technology, and the study of every aspect of everything were the driving forces of his world.

CPR is one such development dating pretty far back into history from various processes of similar attempts to save lives.

The mechanic starts with chest compressions, which immediately forces water out of the petite gatonine’s lungs.

“Come on, Treia. You were always secretly envious of that princess, right?” He checks her for breathing, pinching her nose and exhaling to fill her lungs manually before resuming chest compressions.

“Well, you got it. I broke several of her ribs, and she was on bedrest for several months.”

“My Liege, I’ll…”

“Send Lady Senn over here,” orders Daniel. “Then, drag that thing out and kill it.”

“As you wish, Sire.”

Neith stands up, darting quickly to the elven mage, informing her of Daniel’s request, and then he calls out, “Rifle-bearers! Ready! I’m bringing the beast to us!”

“Understood! Kuboen, Lyrtef, fall back from the entrance,” calls out Goelselmo. “Sir Helbeit, Sir Resken, ready on right side!”

“We’re on it!” calls out Resken, reloading his Dragonslayer.

Gwenesphia adds in a last minute warning, “Remember, Sir Neith will be in his dragon form! Don’t fire on Sir Neith!”

“Understood!” reply the warriors readying their rifles to fire on the monster.

There is a calamitous amount of noise coming from the hidden marsh obscured by the thick, soupy fog that refuses to relent, even after everything that just happened. At this point, Daniel wouldn’t be surprised if it’s magically caused.

But, his focus is on Treia. He keeps performing CPR as Senn arrives.

“Daniel, I’m here.”

“Can you perform lightning magic?” asks Daniel.

“I can, though my strength is greatly reduced while maintaining Hallowed Ground.”

“That’s fine. I’ll need you to to cast it on her heart extremely briefly and with just enough strength to make her body tense. Like a punch.”

She cocks her head, but the elven sorceress doesn’t object. She crouches while keeping her staff upright.

Daniel finishes his round of chest compressions, saying quickly, “Hand!”

The ethereal silver-haired woman gives him her hand, and he places it on Treia’s chest. “Remember, punch! Don’t hold! Whenever you’re ready! Clear!”

Daniel glances to make sure no one else is touching the gatonine, and Senn swiftly charges mana to her hand, sending a shock through Treia’s body.

Daniel immediately checks for a pulse and breathing. Nothing yet. He gives her rescue breaths to keep oxygen moving into her body.

Next, he continues chest compressions while asking, “Senn, did you detect any unexpected spells?”

“Unexpected spells?” asks the elf.

“Yeah. Anything. Something that stands out.” He gives rescue breaths, and instructs, “Hand. Slightly stronger this time.”

She follows his guidance to shock Treia again, answering apologetically afterwards., “I didn’t notice anything.”

“I see…” starts Daniel thoughtfully, but a sudden weak cough dominates his attention. Treia stirs lightly, moaning and mewling softly like an actual newborn kitten.

Given what Daniel did, it can be surprising to be told he isn’t using any magic, other than the lightning magic.

He carefully tends to Treia, helping her expel the remainder of the water in her mouth and lungs, and he catches her up on where they’re at as the attack team battles the pol’vapporr. Rifle shots fill the forest with chaotic thunder as the pol’vapporr lies helplessly and completely exhausted on the ground. Neith moved fast and didn’t hold back, severing several of the hands with the magic-nullifying eyes and hog-tying the monster with its own arms. He could and might as well have killed the monster himself, but they’re continuing to go out of the way to give Baron Honeydip’s family prestige, as well as the knights of the Stalvaltan Grand Duchy. It’s also a good chance for everyone to continue practicing use of the rifles for the times when a dragon isn’t available to slay the beast more efficiently.

Treia finally tries to sit up as the last of the pol’vapporr’s breath departs, and Daniel urges softly, “Take it easy. I didn’t hear any breaks, but I gave you CPR.”

“I can tell,” grumbles the gatonine, feeling cold now that her armor is off and her clothes are soaking wet. She feels her chest, recoiling at pain, but the fact that she can move at all suggests that her bones aren’t broken.

“If you want, we can get you either healing potations or milk.”

She nods, blushing a little as she remembers where the ‘healing milk’ comes from. “M-Milk, thanks. I want to keep my head clear.”

He nods, cycling through his battered void bag. “Good idea. Though, we’ll probably head back…”

“W-We will?” asks Treia. “Because of me?”

“What? No. It’s just… We hit more snags than we were ready for.”

She grips the collar of his armor, saying softly, “Geira isn’t the only one, you know…”

“What do you mean…?” asks the human quietly, conscious of his helmet sitting nearby. The orange dragon might crawl out of it like a certain summoned bio-exorcist if they say her name too many times.

Treia glares at the helmet, saying a little sourly, “We were close before you met her… all of them… And, I can still keep going. I won’t let us fail another mission just for them to stuff you away like a trinket in her hoard.”

The mechanic is quiet for a moment. He’s baffled that he’s the person hearing words like these, and he’s not sure what the right answer is.

From a safety standpoint, Neith, Senn, and Vaergraes can defeat most things they might come across with relative ease, but that leaves them without a large portion of their planned combat team meant to defend them unbalanced with a lot of much weaker individuals, with particular emphasis on the one who won’t benefit from life-saving potations or magic; Daniel himself.

That said, they have seized control of a peculiar area that may be what they’re looking for, and the shuttle can bring the first group back as well.

“Senn, what will the consequences be if we camp out?”

“If you are referring to Hallowed Ground, I will definitely need to sleep the most to recover my mana, I regret to say. With that said, though, as long as the noise and magic spells are kept to a minimum, the slormantus shouldn’t come looking for us again. I’d, of course, recommend we seize control of an easily defensible position.”

The mechanic nods in agreement. “I’ll consult the others once they’re squared away over there.”

Gwenesphia is in a heated bickering match with her brother, Kuboen, while Peiburi and Lyrtef egg them on. It seems like, just from the gestures and argument that they’re arguing over who had the final killing blow on the pol’vapporr. That, or they’re arguing over what to do with the remains while Neith helps Sir Helbeit and Sir Resken stow the humongous body in a large void bag that they withdrew from one of the smaller ones being carried by the knights.

Daniel hands over a bottle of Shek’s milk, which has healing and stamina restoration properties, and Treia drinks it to help offset the beating she took.

While she’s doing so, she grumbles, “I hope mine is good…”

“What was that?” asks Daniel.

“Nothing! Shut up.” She punches his arm, turning away from him to hide her face.

Daniel smiles and puts his helmet back on, bracing himself for another ear chewing.

To his surprise, though, it’s quiet.

“Mukori? You there?”

“Yes,” replies Geirahoel’s voice a little softly.

“Everything alright?” asks Daniel cautiously.

“We’ll speak on your return, Mukori. B-But, I’m still watching, so if you do anything too dangerous…”

“Yes, yes, my dear Mukori. You’ll come and drag me back. I understand. Thank you for looking after me.”

“Y-Yes…”

It’s a little burdensome to have her breathing down his neck like a helicopter parent, but at least she does give him some space when he asks for it.

“Now then,...” Daniel helps Treia to her feet, and she keeps sipping at her milk, already feeling better.

“You might still have a bruise,” cautions Daniel. “Once the damage is corrected, the blood has to be processed out of the body, which is normal.”

“You remember I was there after your duel with Kalegrynten, right?” retorts the fiesty gatonine with a smirk. “But, don’t worry. Even if I’m not pretty anymore, it’s your fault. So, I’ll just make you feel guilty forever and explain to my parents and siblings what you’ve done to me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” replies the human dryly. Though, he’s glad that she’s able to have warm banter as they regroup with the others.

“So,” starts Daniel. “Is anyone hurt? Anyone need to go back?”

Everyone glances at Treia briefly, and then to Vaergraes. The Uhl’tall woman replies with a proud and elegant tone, “I am fine. Though, I will need to rest to recover my mana.”

“As will I,” adds in Senn. “I have drained the majority of my magic.”

“I’d like to restock my ammo belt, your Grace,” replies Sir Resken. “Sir Helbeit and I burned through a great deal of our Dragonslayer bolts between the two fights.”

“That was my plan, unless there were objections,” replies Daniel. “I’d like to retrace our steps back to the landing zone and make camp in a secure area near there while we wait for Hekate’s group to return. Baron Goelselmo, whatever means Mattarglosians use to prevent detection from smaller monsters, I’d like you to help us establish the safest area we can so our mages can rest.”

“Of course, your Grace,” replies the gatonine lord respectfully. “My children and I will man the watch, as I can only speak for eastern races, but barring Sir Neith, we have the best night vision, I expect.”

“I’ll also be monitoring our surroundings through the night, my Liege,” replies Neith himself. “Dragons do not typically need sleep daily, so I can keep watch through the night without issue. Of course, if our mission becomes an extended excursion, I will need an increasingly long time to rest upon our return.”

Daniel agrees easily. “Of course. As much as I’d like to be able to do that, I am a human, but I’ll take one of the watches as well. If nothing else, I’m an extra gun if need be.”

Everyone agrees to the arrangements, and they make ready to head back towards the landing zone. It’s a lot of wasted time, but without Wenlianna and the mana-scanner, there’s not a lot else to be done for the moment. The goal is to try to find the source of high mana creating monsters, if possible, and eliminate it if practical.

Once the group has returned to the landing zone, they set to work setting up the large shells of giant sea creatures, which demon-kin regularly use as mobile shelters stored in medium size bags.

The shell belongs to a terrestrial mammal called a garatin, which is somewhat like a cross between a tortoise, hermit crab, and an armadillo from what has been described to Daniel.

Thankfully, they make convenient shelters due to their simple design with an opening suitable for humans to duck inside, and then tip forward to ‘close’ the shell for the night.

Senn and Vaergraes take one shell, while Aoloan shares a shell with Neith, who will be on watch outside most of the night. Neith also has orders that Daniel secretly gave him during preparations to keep an extra vigilant eye on Aoloan, just to see what she gets up to through the night, to which the grey dragon knight agreed.

And for now, they’ll have to wait on Hekate’s group to return.

***

Back in the western forest region of the Fievegal, Field Marshal Klur and Grendel Six have been scouting the forest to the best of their ability, mapping the area and searching for further signs of Kernuules, or as Grendel Six have started calling it, the Koggus Gristak. While there is no such mythological figure in goblin stories, they came up with the name because of its ability to seemingly crawl out of the ground itself, emerging from Alkus Gristak, on the prowl for souls to drag into the depths.

That, and Locke decided along with Olk that naming the creature in the goblin tongue as its discoverers is their right alongside the emperor.

What they’ve found so far has been underwhelming, though. The forest is unsurprisingly massive, and it’s infested with beasts in both natural and monstrous forms, which means the Emperor and his Empresses will likely choose to investigate further.

Or, when they’ve refined the process, entrust it to their loyal Grendel Six operatives.

Locke asks Klur as they investigate one of the areas that a major part of the battle took place in, “Klur, do you think Koggus is actually a creature of the forest?”

“If we’ve learned anything since the Emperor, it should be that mythological monsters are just myths. If Emperor were to dig to Alkus Gristak, he would mine for all the chains and make weapons out of them.”

The goblins around the two laugh along with the higher ups, and Locke clarifies his thought. “Locke mean… er, I mean… what if Koggus is like a golem, like the ones of the Citadel?”

Klur thinks on these words, carefully walking forward through the trees. Goblins aren’t the most proficient masters of stealth, but they do make good use of blind spots and tricks to ambush their targets, so it comes naturally for them to be alert, even if their low intelligence can sometimes lead them into traps.

Locke asking the question means he has been trying to raise his own intelligence by studying in his free time, and he’s speculating on the broader scope of the mission.

“Do you have evidence?” asks Klur, not trying to deny the question’s merits, but also knowing that they need more than an unusually curious and studious goblin’s imagination to pass the information on to their superiors.

While General Neith and the Empresses are far more kind than any commander the goblins have served under before, they don’t want to fall back into foolish ways and lose the respect the transition to the Fievegal has gained them.

Klur refuses to be compared to dumgobs, including the ones still serving the demon covenant or hegemony, or whatever they call themselves now.

The Fievegal and its goblins are the only ones Klur is worried about.

Locke shakes his head. “No. I just didn’t like how it seemed like it could appear and disappear like the golems do.”

“Empress Hekate can do the same. She is not a golem.”

Locke nods in agreement, realizing that the goblin commandant makes a very good point.

“Where are we on the attack zone?” asks the Field Marshal.

Ahead, Hap, the young goblin that helped him recover the launchmen when they slipped over the edges of the shuttle ramps, calls out in reply, “Smell of fire getting close, Field Marshal! We nearly there!”

“Good, but keep your voice low,” urges the Grendel Six leader. Submachine gun fire didn’t seem to disturb Kernuules. It was when the tank fired its much larger shell that the creature first made its appearance, as if being awakened. But, that could mean it was simply hibernating. If it’s still awake and alert, it could spring an attack on them out of nowhere. And, without the full might of the tank or shuttle, Grendel Six would be wiped out like mere dumgobs against those same countermeasures.

Grendel Six presses forward, reaching a sight many of them are familiar with, but which always impresses them knowing how and why it happened.

Ahead of the goblins as they make their way out into the artificial clearing is a blackened and still-smoking patch of barren ground where all of the shrubs and weeds have been burned away, much of the dried leaves and grass have been turned to ash, and several of the trees look almost like snow has fallen on them, with yellow and brown leaves indicating death of the trees.

Nearby are the metal shards of a canister designed to unleash hellfire in hopes of annihilating Kernuules without the use of magic, since magic resistance can make some elemental spells nearly completely ineffectual.

After everything Neith unleashed on the Koggus Gristak, the woodland devil almost certainly has a high degree of magic resistance, if not nullification.

Such luxuries are for the tall-lings, though. Klur is but a mere goblin, who must fight his battles like his glorious emperor; with the might of great weapons and the bravery of his own heart.

“Huh, look here,” remarks Locke as he picks something up. “This looks like one of Olk’s bullets.”

The mentioned goblin walks over while cradling his submachine gun, and a few others look on as the two study the smashed and deformed piece of metal. Daniel explained that bullets are designed in many different ways, with plenty of them being relatively soft so that they smash like that and do more damage. Successful hits generally don’t leave the target, though many do as well.

Olk replies, “Can’t be mine. There’s only dirt on it, so it was a miss.”

Locke frowns, and he throws the destroyed 20mm bullet at Olk before pouncing him, causing a brief brawl between the two as the others search the area.

Naturally, there is no bark-formed skull of a deceased mythological figure present, nor are there any drops of blood. If it were so easy, Neith would have defeated it the first and second time he annihilated its body.

What’s disturbing is that there doesn’t seem to be any signs of the beast at all, other than the damage to the forest.

“Are we sure this was a successful hit zone, Hap?”

The young goblin pulls out his crudely drawn map and shows how he came to the conclusion. “Given our distance from these two points, Field Marshal, it has to be. But, if air support is willing to confirm, we can try to signal them from the ground to find us.”

Klur thinks for a moment. Feno’xion, the golem pilot for the shuttle is standing by. Shuttles can stay airborne for days on a single charge of their magic crystals, but that number drops when high speed maneuvers are made. If they need to evacuate in a hurry, they’ll need the shuttle to have every drop of mana that it can, and be careful not to waste any.

That said, they also need to make sure they’re finding definitive signs of Kernuules’ habits, resting areas, prey, and anything else if such things exist. And, for all they’ve found so far, the creature could very well sleep in the ground itself like the roots of a tree, emerging only to attack.

“I got something over here!” Floria the goblin medic calls out.

The group jogs to gather around the goblin female, who is crouching over a small, flat, cleared spot that looks like it was brushed clear of dirt by her hand.

“Is that… stone?” asks Locke.

“We are in a forest,” remarks Olk. “It’s not all soft ground and tree roots.”

“Look closer,” remarks Klur, who has already spotted what Floria took interest in.

Locke and Olk move closer, studying the stone.

“Writing!?” exclaims Locke. Few goblins are particularly educated at all, and the members of Grendel Six are no exception. And, this certainly encompasses reading. Klur’s not even sure if goblins have a written language in all of their history of existence, since the modern goblins, both social goblins and their dumgob counterparts, generally don’t have any sort of written language of their own.

“Can anyone read it?” asks Olk, glancing around at his comrades.

Floria replies, “It’s not in Eastern Trade, that I’m certain of.”

“Since when can you read Eastern Trade?” asks Locke a little bluntly.

Floria smirks coyly at him. “I am a woman, Locke. And, the Emperor already has two Goblin Queens. Who is to say he isn’t looking for three?”

Everyone stares awkwardly at her, since she has given no indications of being attracted to Daniel before.

The medic laughs, adding sincerely, “There are many documents that his Grace provided to be translated to Eastern Trade, and they have a great deal of medical knowledge beyond using magic.”

“Ah…” retorts Locke dumbly. “That makes sense.”

Most of them just carry guns and kill, but Floria’s job is to prevent death where she can. The more information she has, the more likely she can save a life. Now that Klur thinks about it, she has a small cheat-sheet booklet that she’ll sometimes pull out while they’re travelling, or if she needs a bump of knowledge during triage to make sure she doesn’t miss anything.

“Hap, mark this on the map. For now, our mission takes priority.”

“What if it’s related?” asks Floria. She traces a line from the circle that looks like a black charred line in the dirt leading away from the stone.

The group studies the line, and a few yards away, it splits, forming a ‘T’ shape.

Or rather, it breaks off into the curve of a circle.

The monster didn’t move much when they were attacking it, since it couldn’t chase them in the air like it would on the ground. And, it seemingly materializes out of the forest when it appears.

Klur orders, “Search the area again for signs of magic circles. Floria, do your best to draw the shape of this one. It looks like it has several rings and branches. If there is something to the pattern, perhaps Feno’xion or one of the other ancients can decipher it.”

“Yes, Field Marshal,” reply the soldiers, and Floria reports, “I’ll also try my best to copy the writing as closely as I can. But, it’ll take me some time.”

“We’ll make camp here if we have to,” replies Klur. “It seems as long as we maintain a low profile, we’re not at risk.”

The rest of Grendel Six agree, and they all set to their tasks, searching the area for more signs of magic involved with Kernuules.

Locke approaches Klur as the search continues. “Boss. What if we set a trap and lure Koggus here? A bomb should lure him in, and we can see how the magic circle works.”

“It’s a good idea, Locke. But, I don’t know that we’re equipped to survive if we’re detected. We already know many things that can’t kill it, including dragon fire and possibly Emperor’s Alkus bombs.”

The goblin named by the Emperor himself chuckles lightly. The anti-magic bombs certainly gave the woodland devil a great deal of inconvenience, but one of the other teams found signs that it’s not dead yet, namely in the form of inexplicably moving roots and branches. Grendel Six isn’t full of geniuses, so they made a note of it and reported it.

“We have another circle,” calls out Olk, who went to investigate upon Hap asking for help.

“Floria,” starts Klur.

“Flag it, and I’ll sketch it in a moment.”

“Yes Ma’am!” calls out Hap, immediately setting to digging out bright-colored marker flags from his bag.

Klur looks at the first two, which are pretty far away from each other.

Grendel Six is not full of geniuses, but they aren’t full of dummies either.

The commandant crouches to inspect a branch line coming off of the first magic circle. It trails towards the clearing full of ash.

Having a moment of curiosity, Klur inspects the circle Hap just found.

Just as he suspected, there is a subtle straight line headed towards the center.

Looking around, the goblin commandant strains his brain. There is a connection. He can feel it.

Connection! Ah! It’s obvious.

Klur estimates the location and jogs towards the area he suspects.

Sure enough, he finds another magic circle, though this one is half-obscured by having been burned by the incendiary bombs.

Floria’s suspicions that the strange magic circles and stones with writing are related.

Klur orders, “Hap, clear the center of the circle gently to see if there’s a stone.”

“Yes Boss!” The young goblin works, with Olk joining him, and Klur sweeps dirt away with his sharp-nailed hands. It isn’t long at all before his evolution-forged goblin hands that excel at digging find what he’s looking for.

Sure enough, each of the magic circles overlays a stone with writing on it. Though indecipherable to the illiterate goblins, as well as the one literate one, it’s clear what these stones represent.

Magic is involved in the existence of Kernuules, meaning Grendel Six may be completely out of their league.

***