In the wake of the Thunder Judgment, the goblin nest was a landscape of charred ruins. The air hung heavy with the acrid stench of ozone and the pungent odor of scorched earth. Corpses of goblins littered the interior, among them the massive remains of high-ranking elites. Yggdrasil stepped across the blackened ground into this domain of death, his eyes scanning his surroundings with a chilling composure.
He felt no nausea; instead, an extraordinary sense of steadiness and calm settled over him. Once, the sight of blood and corpses might have unsettled him, but now, it was merely the signature of a completed task. To an ordinary adventurer, such large-scale slaughter might be a lingering nightmare, but to him—it was a mission, a test, and a decisive victory.
"...The numbers were greater than expected, but the task is done."
He unslung the heavy two-handed axe from his back and drove it into the ground to free his hands. From his storage magic, he retrieved a short dagger of refined steel, crouching down to begin the grim work of inspecting and processing the remains.
"The proof of subjugation is the ears... and I won't leave a single one behind."
His movements were swift and precise, born of a cold efficiency. One by one, the goblins' ears were severed and categorized into his storage space by type and size. This was no longer mere killing; it was pure "work." For the high-ranking individuals—the goblin warriors, mages, and the massive generals—he took additional proof: battle-fangs, hand bones, or engraved ornaments that served as undeniable evidence of their fall.
When he reached the extraordinarily massive corpse of the Goblin King, he saw that while the charcoal-black body was scorched beyond recognition, the head remained partially intact. Its yellowed eyes were vacant and dead. Yggdrasil reached down, gripped its lower jaw, and wrenched—pulling free the long fang that symbolized its royal status. It still shimmered with a faint obsidian luster.
"A Goblin King’s fang... this should serve as significant additional proof."
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Having stowed the fang, he stood and scanned the ruins of the nest that once housed hundreds of monsters. In a far corner, a few goblin younglings cringed behind some rocks, watching him with terrified eyes. Yggdrasil did not hesitate. Lighting gathered in his right hand, and a small-scale burst of electricity reduced them to ash.
Yggdrasil looked at his hand, where faint sparks still lingered, and fell into a brief silence. He felt a sense of unfamiliarity with his own reaction—in the moment he snuffed out those lives, there had been no hesitation, no flicker of pity. His heart was as calm as a pool of stagnant water.
(I didn't expect... that I could do such a thing so coldly.)
He shook his head, as if trying to toss those thoughts away. Yet, this realization brought no unease, only confirmation. He offered a footnote to his own ruthlessness: "Mercy and hesitation are the most useless emotions on a battlefield." It sounded like he was convincing someone—or perhaps simply stating a fact he had already accepted.
After completing the cleanup and trophy collection, Yggdrasil used recovery magic to restore his stamina. He stood and stretched his limbs; his stout, burly dwarven frame was filled with a sense of grounded, solid power. His rounded belly rose and fell slightly with his breath—it was not just a testament to his enjoyment of ale and fine food, but the very foundation of his strength, stabilizing his stance and lending weight to every swing of his great axe.
Ensuring his gear was undamaged, he slung the heavy two-handed axe back onto his shoulders. He cast one final glance at the charred, silent goblin nest, as if closing the book on this battle.
"Now, it’s time to go back..."
The moment the thought surfaced, Balin’s figure was etched clearly into his mind. He shared a similar stout and rounded physique, yet Balin’s belly always felt softer, warmer. That rounded gut and broad chest were like a gentle big bear, offering a sense of security that made one want to dive into his embrace and never let go.
The mere thought caused the cold lines on Yggdrasil’s face to melt away completely. A smile, tender and genuine, curled his lips. Even in the depths of his grey eyes, which had just looked upon death with indifference, a soft warmth flickered. This subjugation wasn't for glory or reward; it was for the sake of returning to the man waiting for him. Balin was the only harbor he longed for after the slaughter and the cold.
Yggdrasil turned, walking away from the scorched land with steady, resolute steps. His silhouette was firm and grounded, and in his heart, he understood: this was not just the start of an adventure, but the prelude to a battle of destiny.
"20 Chapters! We've reached a huge milestone! Yggdrasil has shown his cold, professional side as a warrior, but Balin remains his warm anchor. I wanted to explore the duality of his new life—the ruthless Apostle and the man in love.
The real journey begins now. If you're enjoying the blend of high-stakes action and wholesome dwarven romance, please Follow and Rate to help us keep climbing the Rising Stars list! See you in the next chapter!"
