POV Vesuvius:
The black-scaled kobold stirred, its reptilian eyes moving from one corner of the room to another, absorbing all of its surroundings. Its eyes suddenly fell upon the massive dragon illuminating the whole cave with the magma dripping out of his body. The kobold froze, its reverse-slitted irises going wide.
Soon it woke up out of its trance and fell on its knees, pushing its horned head against the hot floor of the cave. Its whole body was trembling as the pair of golden glowing eyes locked on it.
“Minion, you are a servant of great Vesuvius from now on!” A powerful voice accompanied by a wave of hot air washed over its body, “You may raise your head. I have no time for this!”
The kobold quickly rose its head from the ground, its eyes looking into the ground, still refusing to look at its powerful creator.
‘I wonder if its whole personality was replaced after it was reborn or if its mind still remains goblin-like.’
“Tell me, do you remember anything from your past?”
The kobold opened its mouth, revealing a line of sharp pointy canines that evolved to tear flesh and crush bones. Its long tongue rolled all around its mouth with a few garbled sounds escaping out. The kobold kept moving its tongue before finally speaking in a cold-sounding voice filled with reverence.
“Your Highness, I only have hazy images and memories of my simple life.”
Vesuvius immediately noticed something, his interest quickly piquing, ‘Your, Highness? That doesn’t sound like something that a goblin would say. That doesn’t even fit into their culture, so from where it came? Did the marrow give it access to a portion of the dragon’s innate memories, or is it some instinct of hierarchy encoded deep within every member of the draconic species?’
“Tell me, minion, why are your calling me Your Highness?”
The kobold looked with perplexed eyes at the dragon before quickly turning its gaze back towards the ground, visibly confused. “I don’t understand, your Highness. You are your Highness, so you are your Highness.”
The dragon refused to give up, feeling like he was close to discovering something important. He pushed his mana into his vocal cords and spoke again. This time the whole cave vibrated with the magical energy carried by his words, “Tell me, from where have you learned…”
Vesuvius stopped leaving the kobold even more confused as he noticed something so obvious that he was perplexed that he had noticed it only now, ‘It is not speaking in the goblin language but the normal common language. So it really must have inherited a portion of my knowledge. The question is how much it knows. Has it also inherited the knowledge from my past life?’
A hint of worry appeared in the corner of the dragon’s mind as he couldn’t but feel that someone having access to his memories could lead to an unexpected problem in the future.
Alesia, who was, until now, quietly observing, stepped forward, moving closer to the kobold, “This is truly amazing! That goblin is no longer stupid! It even learned to act polite and the common language!”
“Grrrr!” the eyes of kobold flashed as it stood up, spitting saliva as it made an angry noise, its whole posture screaming with anger. The glow of its long claws increased, the temperature around them quickly rising.
“How dare you call me a goblin, you little…?!”
The small elven girl didn’t even budge when facing the tall, scaled monster that was at least two times taller than her. She clenched her tiny hands into fists, her eyes brightly shining. The dragon blood flowing through her veins gave her courage and pride, together with the power to back it up.
The kobold brandished its clawed fingers, sharpening its long claws glowing from heat against each other with a loud screeching noise resounding through the cave.
The dragon hurriedly stepped in before they could start fighting, as he felt like the small elf would be beaten, which would be detrimental.
His voice immediately boomed through the whole cave, “Quiet down, both of you!”
The two minions froze, their hearts skipping a beat as the dragon’s voice resonated through their whole bodies.
Vesuvius turned his head towards the kobold, slight irritation growing in his heart as his new minion dared to stand against his most important minion that took care of his precious runes. He no longer considered Alesia just as another of his minions. She was more important. She was someone with whom he could share his experiments and someone who had already proved her loyalty and incredible talent.
He felt anger slowly seep into his body, the aura erupting out, pressing against the kobold. There was no way that he would tolerate his new minion, not knowing its place, by causing trouble right underneath his nose.
‘I need to create a firm hierarchy here, one not based on strength but on merits and overall capabilities. Strong minions are useful, but they shouldn’t use their strength to usurp power from weaker but otherwise more capable minions.’
The two golden eyes bore straight into the kobold’s soul, his body hunching under the deadly stare, “Know your place, minion. How dare you attack my most precious minion right under my eyes?!”
The kobold backed away, its eyes angrily looking at Alesia as if it blamed her for bringing their master’s rage upon it. Its whole body was trembling under the powerful aura washing all over its body.
Only now, Vesuvius realised how big a challenge awaited him, ‘All of the draconic species are like this. They are all too prideful and want to fight at the smallest impulse of anger. Especially if there isn’t big enough difference in their hierarchy.’
Still, he felt like it wasn’t hopeless as he, as a dragon, had a good estimate about their behaviour, ‘They will fight at the start, but once they establish their hierarchy, they will come to peace. I just have to ensure that these on top will be the most capable ones, not some random minion who was just stronger than the rest.’
POV Kidnappers:
A carriage stood in the middle of the muddy road, its wooden wheels broken. Arrows were sticking all over the place. Multiple dead people lay sprawled in the mud, blood pooling under them. Some wore chainmail, while others wore various armours, with a few wearing black mantles and masks covering their faces.
Three people in black stood around the carriage, each holding swords covered in fresh blood. Their masks, covered in droplets of blood, reflected the light passing through the canopies of trees above them with their tattered black mantles waving in the draft.
A circle of soldiers in chainmail slowly kept approaching them, more than a dozen spears and crossbows aiming at them. The ring around them was slowly tightening, the attacking players and NPCs preparing to finish them off.
The soldiers pulled triggers on their crossbows at once, and multiple sharp bolts launched forward, flying towards the three kidnappers. The air around them whistled as they, almost in an instant, reached the figures in black.
At once, the three players stepped aside, dodging multiple bolts while swinging their weapons, their bloodied blades cutting through the incoming projectiles.
The circle of soldiers moved forwards, stabbing with their spears at the trio, dozen sharp tips closing towards their bodies from multiple angles.
PunkGuy quickly ducked, the sharp spears narrowly stabbing above him, the wind made by them riffing his punk haircut. He swung his secondary sword as his bow was useless at such a short distance.
Bright orange flames engulfed his blade, the heat quickly rising as it swished through the air. The flaming sword cut through the wooden poles of the spears, the metallic spear tips falling on the ground.
Finally, he got some space, his eyes darting towards his two remaining companions. They limply stood, the long spears stuck in their bodies, blood leaking out of their injuries, and their vitality quickly dropping.
He wasn’t worried, knowing that such injuries weren’t enough to kill someone on their level.
‘The spears are okay. The crossbows are the real danger.’
The sound of multiple springs resounded through the quiet forest as the NPCs behind the spearmen unleashed another volley of bolts. He wanted to dodge, but his reverse-slitted eyes immediately noticed that none of the bolts flew towards him.
‘These bastards!’ he tried to swing his sword, but multiple spears stabbed at him, making him unable to help his impaled friends.
The bolts pierced deep into the bodies of his two friends, piercing through their necks and chests. More blood leaked out, black veins spreading from around their injuries. They spasmed, and their hearts stopped beating with their nerves breaking apart.
‘These cowards, if it wasn’t for this stupid poison and their cowardly tactics, then we would have won!’ a strong rage surged through the PunkGuys whole body, every cranny of his body feeling rage at his enemies for using such underhanded methods.