Reawakening of the Nameless Dragon

"Fine, fine. I must protect my delicate eyes from your abomination, after all."

"..." a vein popped in Aron's head. He resisted the urge to hammer a fist into Raven's head. Not long ago, Raum had been begging for salvation, and now he was making fun of his savior. Aron decided to ignore him for the moment, focusing on the task at hand.

Using the ragged cover, Aron wiped the goblin blood from his skin. He had been drenched in the foul substance from head to toe, and with no water nearby, he had to settle for a makeshift cleaning. Although far from clean, at least he would feel a bit more comfortable under the armor.

First things first, the most important piece: the leather pants…Of course! Aron swiftly slipped into the leather pants, eager to get properly suited up. As soon as he wore them, Raum turned to face him, He still had that sly smile on his face. Although smiles weren't exactly discernible on a bird's visage, Aron somehow knew the emotion Raum was conveying. Choosing to disregard it, he continued the process of wearing his armor.

The chestplate was next, followed by the heavy iron boots.Aron noticed a small problem with the right-hand gauntlet: the metal piece wasn't holding in place securely. Thankfully, the scattered piles of armor provided an abundance of leather strips and belts. Aron easily solved the issue by taking some strips and expertly wrapping them around the gauntlet, ensuring everything stayed in place.

"The right arm is done. Now, about my left,"

refusing to leave any part of his body vulnerable. He picked up a gauntlet from the scattered equipment; its leather was in good condition, save for a metal guard marked with sharp teeth or claws, rendering it unusable. Aron carefully tore the damaged piece apart, separating the leather from the metal. He then wore the now "leather gauntlet" and reinforced it with multiple strips, ensuring its strength. Lastly, he secured the steel shoulder piece.

With the armor in place, Aron reached for a few more belts and used them to secure the two great weapons on his back. Finally, he draped the gray cloak over his shoulders, adding an air of mystery to his appearance.

Surveying the remaining pile of weapons, Aron selected a decent knife. While his primary weapons were the two great weapons on his back, the knife served a practical purpose, extracting magic cores from monsters.

After all, it would be absurd to wield massive weapons for such a task. The mace is also good for smashing things, so he kept it, fixing it to one side and the knife to the other, ensuring he had the necessary tools for every job.

As Aron busied himself with his gear, Raum took the opportunity to explore the room, returning with a bag in tow. He eagerly approached Aron, his eyes shining with anticipation.

"Aron, is this useful?" Raum inquired, holding up the bag.

Aron turned his head, catching sight of the bag. A smile formed on his face, and he gently patted Raum's head.

"Yes, indeed. This will come in handy. Thank you."

"!!!" The unexpected gesture took Raum by surprise. He never received this kind of smile from anyone, not to mention the gentle touch. He looked away, avoiding Aron's eyes. and fought back tears that threatened to well up within him.

"What now?" he managed to ask, his voice tinged with vulnerability.

Aron grasped the bag, his expression resolute. "Now, we collect the magic cores from the corpses and get the hell out of here."

Raum nodded in approval, eager to leave the oppressive atmosphere of the cave behind. He had no desire to spend any more time in this wretched place.

Together, the man and the raven made their way to the center of the cave, leaving the storage room behind. Stepping into the open, they were immediately assaulted by the noxious stench of burnt flesh. The smell had intensified within the confined space, making it unbearable for any creature with a discernible sense of smell.

Standing amidst the headless goblin corpses, Aron's face broke into a wide grin, showcasing all of his teeth. Memories of the thrill, bloodshed, rage, and satisfaction flooded his mind as he recalled ripping off the champion's head.

"Ahhhh... that's why I love fighting," he murmured aloud, momentarily lost in his thoughts.

He pondered over his own personality—does he truly enjoy fighting so much? Perhaps he did. Regardless, he yearned to experience that feeling once more, willing to put his life on the line and battle his way through any challenge

Scanning the area, Aron sighed heavily, realizing there were no more creatures left to slay. Determinedly, he drew his knife and proceeded to open the champion's chest, searching for the magic core. Soon enough, he discovered it—a white crystal-shaped core, larger than the previous one. He cradled it in his hand, and a notification appeared before his eyes.

[Basic Core obtained: Goblin champion]

[Would you like to consume it?]

[Yes/No]

Without a second thought, Aron gave his approval. In an instant, the core shattered into fragments, floating in the air before being absorbed into Aron's body.

[Dragon Core: 6/1000]

A surge of power coursed through Aron, his body feeling stronger and healthier, his muscles subtly enlarged. Looking at the little raven beside him, Aron couldn't contain his curiosity.

"How can I acquire more of these cores?" he asked, eager for information.

Raum observed the whole process with fascination. He had never encountered or even heard of a man capable of absorbing the cores, but he was a young raven. Maybe this is a normal thing?

"By killing monsters or buying them," he replied.

Aron thought for a second. 'More killing, huh? Excellent. As for trading…I don't have coins.'

As he could guess what he was thinking, Raum added, "I suggest you sell some of these cores, get better gear, and take on stronger monsters. The stronger, the better."

Aron nodded in approval. This is the best approach. Save as many cores as possible to buy better gear and do more killing.

"Ahh! Killing is always good and fun."

Surveying the area, Aron noticed only five goblin corpses that had remained untouched by the fire. Swiftly extracting their cores, he approached one of the charred bodies. However, the moment he touched it, the corpse crumbled into a small pile of ash.

Aron sifted through the ashes, but as expected, nothing remained. Even the core had been reduced to ash.

"Damn," he cursed, glancing at the numerous burnt corpses littering the cave. The loss of so many cores was discouraging.

"My flames are dangerous. I can't use it recklessly," he mused, rising to his feet and calling for Raum. The little raven hopped onto his shoulder.

"What a waste," Raum lamented, witnessing the destructive power of Aron's fire, even capable of incinerating a core.

Aron nodded in agreement. "Indeed... Anyway, Raum, lead the way."

With a nod, Raum guided Aron toward another tunnel. As they neared the entrance, they noticed a trail of blood leading out of the cave into the dark passageway. Exchanging knowing glances, their lips curled into evil smiles.

"One survived."

"Indeed."

"A core."

"Of course."

""Heheheeh~""

Together, they laughed softly, their voices resonating with malevolence. Simultaneously, they stepped into the tunnel, their chilling words echoing,

"Where are you, little goblin? Don't be shy. Come and play with us."

If the unfortunate goblin had heard their sinister and terrifying voices, he would have fled to the farthest reaches of the world.

***

The duty of the proud goblin never ceased. Armed with his short spear, he embarked on his patrol, distinguishing himself from his brethren by adorning an iron bowl on his head. The reason? Nobody knew for sure. Perhaps he had seen hunters wearing helmets and sought to imitate them.

The other goblins made fun of him, finding his choice of headgear amusing. Nevertheless, the iron bowl provided some protection, despite occasionally sliding forward to cover his eyes. But that didn't stop the proud goblin from doing his duties. Walking on the right path to evolve.

Time passed, and the proud goblin caught a familiar scent in the air: the unmistakable odor of blood. He rushed ahead hastily, quickening his pace, following the scent trail that led him to a scene that shook his very core.

One of his kin lay on the ground, lifeless, missing an arm, with both legs crushed to the bone. What horrified him most was the expression frozen on the goblin's face—a visage of sheer terror. To the proud goblin, it seemed that death had gripped the fallen goblin's soul even before its life was extinguished.

Suddenly, an evil and terrifying laughter echoed through the area, causing the proud goblin's heart to nearly leap out of his chest. His grip on the spear tightened as he desperately sought courage, but his body failed him. Soon, a voice, or was it voices? He couldn't tell. But what he can tell is that he absolutely doesn't want to meet the owner of the voice.

"Where are you, little goblin? Don't be shy. Come and play with us."

Shaking uncontrollably and drenched in his own sweat, the proud goblin darted his eyes in every direction, searching for the source of the voice.

The voice kept repeating itself and getting closer and closer. Taking step after step backward, the proud goblin stumbled over a rock, landing on his back. The iron bowl slipped over his eyes, shrouding his vision in darkness. He pondered his situation

"I can't die now. I have dreams of ranking up with all the good food and females that I'll have."

And then, abruptly, silence fell. a silence that drowned out all other sounds. The proud goblin clutched the bowl, hesitating to lift it, fearful of the monstrous sight that awaited him. Yet, after a few agonizing moments, nothing happened. Slowly, he raised the bowl, gradually regaining his sight. Scanning his surroundings, he found nothing amiss. A sigh of relief escaped his lips.

Just as he believed he was out of danger, a cold breeze caressed his neck, sending a shiver down his spine. Something lurked behind him. His green skin turned pale in an instant, and cautiously, he turned his head, glancing backward.

Before him stood two sets of demonic crimson eyes gleaming in the darkness, accompanied by a wicked grin that bared razor-sharp teeth. Paralyzed with terror, the proud goblin gazed upon the terrifying visage as he heard the bone-chilling words once more.

"Found You"

"KYAAAAA!"

And with that, the story of the proud goblin, who dreamed of a rich and happy life, crumbled before him as he saw death gazing at him before consuming his world into darkness.

I hope you like it leave a comment . that helps me a lot