Interlude – Of The Mastermind, Quite Full Of Himself Behind The Scenes
It had been a long and difficult battle.
But now five—no, six—mangled corpses lay before him.
New equipment, still just recognizable for what it was, was the only remaining testament to its former owners.
The girls had opposed him tenaciously, but with enough of a beating from his goblins…
Perhaps I should have left them alive?
He shook his head lightly, dismissing the thought as soon as it came to him. Useless speculation.
If the girl in the front lines had not taken that club to the face, shattering her lovely forehead, he would probably be dead instead of her.
But by fate or by chance, the gods had granted him a critical hit.
It would not be an exaggeration to say that it determined the course of the fight.
The air was humid, thick with the sweet stench of rotting flesh, and buffeted by a piercing cold. He savored all of it.
His eyes functioned as well in this dimness as they did in daylight. The grumbling goblins in front of him he found at once ridiculous and lovable.
They had stood bravely for him against these adventurers who had penetrated into the ritual site deep in this cave.
True, it was greed and not loyalty that had motivated them, but his life was saved just the same.
He had a quest, a mission.
A crucial quest, bestowed upon him from the distant pitch-black beyond, by the gods of chaos themselves.
He trembled with joy each time he remembered their handout, their oracle.
It was a rare honor to receive a handout directly from the gods.
Those who were granted such things, if they were adventurers, became heroes. If they were aligned with the forces of chaos, they became legendary villains.
It led to death and glory, to honor and legend. To all these things, he held the key.
It was in a bizarre shape, like a twisted, empty talon stretching out to grasp something.
Now all he needed was living sacrifices.
However—he had by no means enough yet.
He would have to order the goblins to bring him more sacrifices. And if that was not enough…
Well, adventurers had a special love of money and women. They could be brought from order to chaos easily.
What a simple thing it was to brutally, cruelly overrun those made foolish by festivity when one was guided from within…
They would cross the defensive walls, tear down the decorations, slaughter those who fled in panic, rape, pillage.
And then he would make his offering.
The black-skinned dark elf smiled broadly thinking of it.
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