Hungry Necromancer - Chapter 240

Anselm isn’t anywhere near killing the wrinkled goblin. After I sent Jungle to go have a look he returned with a smug tone and called me over to see Anselm struggling against the goblin.

Jungle tells me as we watch Anselm get pummelled into the ground from the sidelines, that the wrinkled goblin as I so call it is more common than I think. Magic is pervasive to other species after all.

The wrinkled goblin is commonly known as the goblin shaman, “So these Goblin Shamans, are they always this powerful?”

I can only afford the hilarity of watching Anselm get beat because he’s immortal. None of the pains he feels now are permanent, but they are hilarious to watch. It’s like watching those old cartoons with the cat and mouse all over again.

Still, the hilarity of it doesn’t distract me from the fact that Anselm rarely ever struggles. In fact, most times he excels in combat, be it against magic users or Hunters.

Jungle shakes his head, “The Forest has a presence about it, if you are attuned to the flow of mana as a Mage’s often are, you should sense it keener than I do. This presence is the nurturing force behind the monsters here.”

I hum, a smile on my face as the horde of vines from the Shaman latch onto Anselm and slam him into a tree, “So you’re saying the monsters of this Forest are stronger than the regulars?”

He turns to me, his mask giving nothing, “You said it yourself, and you’ve seen it for yourself as well. According to you a Deity came down here and bestowed those wolves with magic, but those weren’t any ordinary wolves in the first place.”

“They weren’t?”

Again he shakes his head, “No, besides your Deity there is a supreme force of nature in this Forest, perhaps I should call it the forest itself.” His hand grazes the bark of a tree, “This tree is a part of that being, at least I believe so. And that being feeds and nurtures the Monsters here with their power, giving them faster adaptability to the flow of magic, and as they are monsters, it often doesn’t take much more than instinct to make them dangerous with magic.

“While Shamans are common outside this Forest, I don’t believe I’ve seen any so young and yet so powerful. It must be the work of the Forest.”

I nod, if what he says is true then I have an idea who that being is, “Ah, I think I know what you’re talking about then.”

His head whips to me, he gasps, “You do? Have you…encountered it?”

‘Encountered? I thought you were just interested in the mystic of the Forest.’

I don’t let him have my thoughts, though I have to wonder why he’s so interested at the possibility of an encounter.

“No, I haven’t. But I have seen it, from afar. It does as you say, and the Monsters are under its control.”

It’s not a complete lie, the Spriggan spirit of the Forest is a spirit so any physical manifestation of it is never the real thing, so no, I haven’t encountered the being behind the Forest.

Anselm gets a leg and an arm free, swinging with all his strength he launches the frosting mace at his tormentor. But this too proves futile as the shaman huffs a thunderous wave, the same that knocked me over earlier.

‘A variety of skills, defensive and offensive. Interesting.’

“Alright, as much as I enjoy watching Anselm be a punching bag to a goblin, I have stuff to investigate. Let’s capture that thing.”

Jungle gives a grunt and palms his spear at the ready.

I snap my fingers and Shaco returns to me, slithering up my sleeve. He’s done well leading his first horde of undead, even though most of them are mush at the bottom of a crater now.

Jungle sprints forth, twirling his spear as he does, the tip of it glowing with explosive energy.

The vines tying Anselm release him and start at Jungle, but I’m right behind him, my [Vampiric Dagger] slicing and dicing at the vines. I would use some blood to ease the strain of using my muscles, but I have all of it restraining the giant goblin.

The creature still regenerates even after all I’ve put it through, pinning it to the ground ought to be the best solution for now, until we capture the shaman that is.

“Shit!” I curse, pulled out of my thoughts as the grass and shrubs beneath my feet rapidly transform into spikes. Hopping back and away from the spikes the shaman’s successfully separated Jungle and I.

It’s intelligent enough to carry out quick battle tactics like this. It’s an inconvenience but I let myself smile as I rise into the air, [Death Grip] tendrils holding me up, watching as Jungle makes his attack.

Twirling his weapon he stabs and jabs at the shaman, none of his attacks making contact as vines sprout up at every jab and pull his spear aside from his target. The shaman is truly impressive.

But not nearly good enough to stop me. Suddenly it stiffens, coming to a complete stop with a gruesome look on its face, the job is done, Shaco proves himself yet again, stabbing the shaman in the back with my [Vampiric Dagger].

It crumbles to its knees, its energy sucked out of it by the spell. With the shaman weakened I descend, Anselm floating beside me as I do.

“You sure had a rough time, how does dirt taste by the way?” I snicker.

“Sure took you long enough to help.” He groans.

“Ha, could have taken longer, you’re immortal remember?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

We meet Jungle on the ground, his spear tip glowing and set at the shaman and Shaco wrapped around the dagger, hissing at any movement from our prisoner.

“Alright, so what do we have here?” I mutter, pushing the shaman’s chin up for a look.

It’s ugly, not as hideous as Jungle of course but still something to keep your lunch away from. On closer inspection of its features I find it’s female. That makes sense.

It growls and grunts but it doesn’t speak. No, it does speak but it’s trying to hide that.

“I have a job for you, Goblin. If you want to continue living, you will show me what powers your giant.”