89 Darkest Dungeon POV (1/2)

Misty breaths escape my lips.

Blood drips onto the cold stone floor from my fingertips.

My blood-filled eyes flare up. They glare completely pass the small human female, who has been very vocal just a moment ago.

Her head is no longer screaming to my enjoyment. It is now rolling somewhere on the blackened floor at one of the far edges of the room, near the numerous doors, leading into dark corridors.

Her small body falls backwards off my meat pole as I remain seated on the stone throne.

Blood trails after her, originating between her legs, staining her thighs. These human females always bleed there when I desire to bless them with my seeds. It is something I take great enjoyment in.

My attention is now at the goblin before me. It curls in horror as I reach out my finger. Magic swirls at the tip. Ice rune manifests and then Spear rune and Shatter rune, one after another.

I do not need to resort to an arcanic formation for something as simple as this.

With a powerful flick, the Ice rune blasts forwards and crashes into the Spear rune, forcing an Ice Spear to materialize. It retains its momentum, surging forwards.

The moment the ice spear collides against the Shatter rune, it shatters into a hundred of deadly shards, all flying forwards.

The ice shards shred the goblin into pieces and pierce the stone floor. The monstrous creature lets out a faint growls before its eyes roll upwards. It dies from its grevious wounds.

How dare the lowly creature returns here all alone after getting all of its men were slaughtered?

It should have died alongside with them!

I cannot believe I was born from these cowardice things.

I am no longer a Goblin!

I am a Hobgoblin!

I am fearless!

Unrestrained strength ripples violently under my iron skin, impervious to arrows. Magical veins spread over the my powerful body, glowing brightly as they grant me unmatched insight into the arcane and the power to bend the world to my will.

I am the perfection of my species!

One day, I will become the all powerful Goblin Lord!

The humans will grovel at my feet as I implant my seeds into their females.

The elves will worship me as their God while I desecrate their blessed body.

The werebeasts will nourish my strength and power with their kinship ritual.

The dwarfs will pay tributes to me with the wealths and riches they mine from their mountains.

All other races will bow to me!

That is my destiny!

So, what is this about a human shaman capable to utilizing light magic offensively?

Don not like so blatantly to my face!

The arcane realm tells me that light magic is for healing, protection, purification, and a mean to ward off the nightmares from the shadow realm. The element has always been used as such by the humans, the elves and all the other races.

While it is not unfathomable to think that the element light itself could be used as an offensive spell, it is unfathomable to think a spell can kill so many of my minions simultaneously without damaging the surroundings.

It is more likely the goblin deserted its post and ran back here, where it is safer. Does it think I would allow it to live?

Now, whether the other goblins are dead or not, I will find out for myself later.

”Bring me the next human female.”

I roar the demand.

The magical veins pulse violently, forcing the cavern to rumble under my magical aura.

See this!? This is my power! The power that the world bestows upon me.

The goblins snarls in response, telling me in their own unintelligible way that there are no more human females for me to enjoy. The human females have all been spoiled or lost their will.

I hammer my fist, shattering the armrest on the throne. The resulting fissure runs across the floor and towards the doorway at the opposite of the hall. The heavy door cracks.

How could there be no more females left?

How!?

I have just raided a large human settlement just a couple of days ago, and I have feasted on the human men and defiled their women there. I have taken what remains back to my lair for my enjoyment at my pleasure, so there should be a least a hundred women and children in captivity.

And these idiots are telling me there is no more females left? Do not tell me they have eaten my prized captives? I will destroy them!

I leap off my throne, flying across the room with a single step.

A couple of goblin breaks my fall, becoming an explosive pool of blood and bone. The ground shatters under my titanic weight.

I grab another goblin within arm reach, forcing the rest to reel back in fear.

Such coward creatures!

The goblin is like a pixie in the palm of my enormous hand. I just want to gobble it up. My hunger sates a little when I did, but the goblin did not taste like a pixie.

How I wish to chew on a pixie right now. They are quite crunchy, soft and delicious. Thinking about it makes me drool. How I hunger for them!

Frustratingly, the pixie is an elusive race, hiding in trees and grasses, away from view.

How dare they hide from me!? The only role in life is to be eaten by me! Me!

It should be their honour!

I will peel the flesh off their bones when I find one, especially that Monarch of theirs.

”That is enough! Stop this childish behaviour. You will devour your entire army before we march onto the human lands.”

An elder goblin calls out. His voice pierces my ears despite being nowhere near me.

”Female! Bring me females. Young ones. Tight ones! Argh!”

I roar back towards his direction, but he stomps down his ivory staff, forming a magical circle beneath his bony feet, telling me that was the last female child.

Her corpse is being dragged away to feed the younglings. According to the human lifespan, she should be around 12 or 13 years of age.

That seems like a lifetime to the goblins, who only live in matters of months. Less so, when those damn adventurers are around. They are always around, hunting goblins.

The old shaman claims there are no human child left!? He does not seem to lie.

If he did...

Grrrrrr....

As for the adult females, they are all impregnated by me or the goblin. They must give birth first before I can get to enjoy them again. They are not tight as the younger ones, thus less enjoyment.

And I cannot kill them during my enjoyment since they are important to growing my army, which anger me greatly. But like all female captives before them, they will spend the rest of their life breeding and contribute to my growing army.

How I wish to kill this elderly Shaman for daring to speak out against me, but a Shaman is a rare breed, especially for someone as powerful as him. He is blessed by the arcane realm as much as I am.Find authorized novels in Webnovel，faster updates, better experience，Please clickfor visiting.

But I am more blessed by the world.