Orson stared in stunned silence for a moment before taking to the skies on Crimson Lizard King, avoiding the hail of goblin fire.
“Waaagh!”
A chorus of goblin cheers erupted as they saw their intruder retreat, the small creatures dancing in excitement.
From above, Orson confirmed what he had initially doubted—the goblin leader was indeed a player.
“If I’m not blind, then the world must be broken,” Orson muttered, shaking his head.
What stood below was a grown man, painted green from head to toe, wearing nothing but white briefs and pulling exaggerated faces to match his companions. Even in the eccentric world of Infinite Dimensions, this sight was rare.
“Are you… a player?”
The goblin player froze, momentarily stunned.
Orson shrugged helplessly, almost embarrassed on the man’s behalf.
Nightshade: “Quiet! This human is a friend of our clan. Nobody is allowed to harm him!”
At his words, the horde of goblins immediately quieted down, gazing up at their leader with wide-eyed reverence, as if he were a teacher in a classroom of toddlers.
Nightshade: “I, the strongest Waaagh Apostle of the goblin race, command you all to return to work!”
Surprisingly, the goblins obeyed without question, their excited cries of “Waaagh!” echoing as they retreated into their burrows like a receding tide.
“You can control them?” Orson asked, visibly impressed.
This player was only Level 10, yet he could command a group of Level 30 goblins. That was no small feat.
Nightshade: “Not exactly. I’m more of their temporary boss,” he replied with a sheepish grin.
Orson scrutinized the man. Despite the green skin being covered in intricate magical tattoos, he could tell it wasn’t merely painted on. Combined with the goggles resembling goblin craftsmanship, Nightshade could easily be mistaken for a goblin chieftain.
“How did you even end up here?”
Orson dismissed Crimson Lizard King and approached, curious about how a low-level player had managed to survive in such a dangerous area.
“Don’t get me started,” Nightshade sighed. “I had the worst luck. I fell into a random teleportation trap straight out of the newbie village and accidentally killed their leader on landing. That’s how I ended up with this weird hidden class: [Waaagh Apostle].”
“Impressive,” Orson replied, suppressing laughter.
Infinite Dimensions was notorious for its myriad hidden classes. Even Orson couldn’t claim to know them all.
He recalled the goblins’ deity, “Waaagh,” from the game’s lore. Waaagh was a god of creativity, with a quirky ability to produce miracles from the junkiest materials, fueled solely by its followers’ fanatical belief.
Nightshade explained that after becoming the goblins’ leader, he could have escaped the area but stayed instead. As a mechanical engineering student in real life, he found the goblins’ tech fascinating and decided to study it further.
The magic cannon in front of him was one of his proud creations.
“That thing… it looks like an anti-aircraft gun,” Orson observed, blinking in surprise.
Nightshade chuckled. “You’ve got a sharp eye! It’s a 1:4 replica of an Italian 75mm cannon.”
His interest piqued, Orson inspected the device.
[Goblin-Tech Magic Cannon]
Rarity: Heroic
HP: 5000/5000
Attack: 2000
Range: 120 meters
Attack Speed: 0.5/s
Ammunition: 200/3000 (Magic Energy)
Effects: Splash Damage, Armor Penetration, Shatter
“This is insane! The stats blow any regular magic crossbow out of the water!”
At Level 30, players could use secondary weapons like magic crossbows and scrolls for additional firepower. But compared to this cannon, such tools were practically toys.
Charging each shot required only 100 MP, eliminating the need for expensive enchanted arrows. Although its firing speed was slow, the sheer damage more than compensated.
“Imagine lining up a hundred of these at a stronghold. Not even gods could break through!” Orson exclaimed.
“Come, let me show you my workshop,” Nightshade offered eagerly.
“Once I step into the spotlight, the whole of Infinite Dimensions will know my name. Even the so-called ‘Three-Time World Champion’ will look like a rookie!”
Nightshade was clearly thrilled to meet another player and couldn’t stop talking.
“That’s the spirit,” Orson replied, humoring him. Nightshade seemed oblivious to world events, including Orson’s own reputation.
“You have discovered: Goblin Factory.”
As they ventured deeper into the cave, a sprawling goblin city came into view. A volcanic river of molten lava cut through the heart of the factory, surrounded by bizarre goblin creations in haphazard arrangements.
Thousands of goblins bustled about, transporting ore or welding magical devices with strange tools.
“Ahhhh! He’s dead! He’s dead, Waaagh save us!”
Despite the bustling activity, accidents happened frequently.
Orson watched a goblin slip and fall into the lava, turning to ash almost instantly. To his shock, the nearby goblins cheered instead of mourning.
Nightshade: “Don’t worry about it. Dead goblins will sprout back up from the ground soon enough.”
“Wait… what? Did you just say ‘sprout’?” Orson asked, dumbfounded.
Nightshade nodded smugly. “Goblins are basically intelligent plants. When one dies, it decomposes into spores that take root. In three days, it’ll grow back—and sometimes, a single death can spawn a dozen new goblins.”
“That’s insane…”
Orson’s understanding of goblins was completely upended.
Nightshade continued, “Depending on Waaagh’s influence, the new goblins might emerge as warriors, engineers, or… well, food. Their evolution seems to depend on what the tribe needs.”
“But lately, more and more goblins are being corrupted, turning into those pesky monsters outside.”
Before Orson could reply, a low growl echoed from the depths of the cavern.
Roar!
The molten lava began to bubble violently. A wave of icy air swept through the cave, freezing several goblins solid where they stood.
Panic erupted as the remaining goblins scattered.
Nightshade’s expression turned grim. “No… it can’t be. That thing is waking up again!”
He turned to the goblins. “Bring out my masterpiece! Push it out now!”
“Waaagh!”
The goblins scrambled to obey, wheeling out a massive contraption from a rickety shed.
It was a tank—a magic tank.
“You’re a genius… an absolute genius,” Orson marveled.
Nightshade’s “masterpiece” was no crude weapon. It was a fully functional goblin-engineered war machine.
Stay tuned to empire
Meanwhile, the Abyss Dungeon icon on Orson’s map began to pulse.
A fissure had opened a few hundred meters away, emanating waves of icy energy that froze everything in its path.
“So, the Frost Dragon Kingdom dungeon lies beneath this factory,” Orson murmured.