The goblin longhouse was a buzz with cheer and merriment. Both the food and alcohol flowed freely, and the half a dozen men and women sitting along the central table occasionally broke into a drunken song.

And why not? It was a celebration, after all.

Not for the goblins, though. No, the various villagers acting as servers and attendants to the adventurers were dull-eyed and ragged. More than a few sported a nasty bruise somewhere, and several walked with a visible limp.

Not that the adventurers cared, mind you.

No, for them, this was a victory celebration! The adventurers had solidified their hold on the village by hunting down the goblin hunters, who had been hiding in the forest. It had taken them nearly three days since occupying the village, and they were ready for some relaxation.

Bosco had learned long ago that being an effective leader meant using both the stick and the carrot. He was well versed in the stick, but he’d learned how to use the carrot from watching Icefinger.

The trick wasn’t so much dangling the carrot, as it was painting the potato to look like a carrot. Only a dog snapped at every scrap, nor did a dragon hoard every coin. If the scrubs thought what you rewarded them with held some value, they would be content and work even harder for more next time.

To that end, he’d arranged this little dinner for the returning team leaders. The table in front of them was arranged with a wide selection of exotic magic fruits and roast spirit beasts. Food of a quality that would have cost a fortune in Halirosa, but here, in the Deep Tunnels, it was just par for the course. The fact that the goblins barely understood the value of the treasures they were sitting on only solidified in Bosco’s mind that he’d made the right choice in taking over the village.

The rest of the adventurers were having their own party in the village square, with less decadent fairs, of course. Yet, to the gutter rats and slum-dwelling adventurers who’d fallen into Icefinger’s gang, it must have seemed like a banquet fit for kings.

Bosco took a long pull from the massive tankard in his hand and grinned. The dirty lot of them were probably singing his praises right this moment. With them spreading the good word through the gang and the high-quality treasures Bosco would bring back to Icefinger, he was a shoo-in for Capo!

Not that he hadn’t thought about keeping what he’d found to himself. Icefinger wasn’t a terrible boss, compared to some clans, but a place like this? This cavern was the kind of thing entire clans were built on.

But more than just Bosco’s soul-chilling fear of Halirosa’s de facto underworld boss kept that thought locked securely in the realm of his own fantasies, however.

Over the rim of his tankard, Bosco glanced at the scrawny man to his left. Seeker poked at the meal with a frown. Whether the man thought that the — admittedly primitive — goblin-cooked meal was beneath him, or something else occupied the man’s mind, Bosco couldn’t tell.

Even after all this time, Icefinger’s watchdog was a mystery to Bosco.

Not for the first time, Bosco wondered if he should take the risk and… deal with the man. Also not for the first time, he quickly dismissed the idea. It wasn’t like Bosco thought Seeker could win in a fair fight. He was strong, sure, maybe stronger than any of the team leaders sitting at the table, but Bosco was stronger.

No, strength wasn’t what made Seeker dangerous.

Even if Bosco had caught the man off guard, Seeker would likely have escaped. If he escaped, he would report everything to Icefinger.

Then Bosco would spend the next thousand years screaming inside the frozen husk that used to be his body.

Anyone who made it far enough up the gang’s ranks eventually got a peek at Icefinger’s ‘trophy room.’ It was both a display of power… and an unspoken warning about what happened to those who crossed the man.

Yes, Icefinger’s teachings had found fertile ground in Bosco; he would be content with the ‘scraps’ the big boss tossed him. Just like those outside had eagerly taken what Bosco gave them. That’s how the gang worked. If it was you sitting at the top one day, tossing the dogs the scraps? All the better.

Bosco lowered his tankard and stared at the longhouse door, frowning, then spoke. “AYE! Any of you lot know where Team 5’s leader is? They’re late. Now that we have full control of the cavern, I want to go over what happens next.”

The four other team leaders paused in their meal and stared up at Bosco, then at each other, shrugging. After a moment, one of them, a woman in light leather armor, swallowed her mouth full of food and responded. “Who? Burt? Who knows? That bastard probably dragged one of the goblin women into one of the shacks again. I swear to the nine hells, that man will stick his rod in anything with a hole.”

The man across from her laughed and pointed a large drumstick at her as he spoke. “That’s funny. Didn’t you two use to da—”

THUNK!

“—Owie! What was that for?!” the man cried, cradling his head where the large goblet the woman had thrown at him struck.

“Since you can’t keep your mouth shut, how about you go ask someone where he is, and we can get back to eating!” She sneered at him.

“Why me?! I’m still hu—”

“JUST GO!” Bosco roared, cutting the man off.

The team leader stood instantly and approached the longhouse door, still nursing the lump growing on his forehead.

He grumbled and pushed the large doors open as those at the table hooted and laughed and let the doors swing close behind him. The lead leader sighed and took in the party’s sight before him. An enormous bonfire roared in the middle of the village square, where several slightly too small tables, packed with food, were lined up to either side.

All around the square, men and women celebrated in various states of inebriation, each in their own way. Some more… passionately than others. Not that there were many left, that was. What had started as a raiding part of over three dozen was now down to half that number at fighting strength. It would still be a few more days before most had recovered from their trek through the tunnels. Not that they needed many more to keep a goblin village this size in line.

The aptly named “cave goblins” might have been more peaceful than their mountain-dwelling cousins, but that also meant they were less likely to bite your nose off if you got too close. Keep them cowed with enough force, and even a population this size wouldn’t get too many funny ideas.

The man was tempted to blow off the bastards in the longhouse and grab something off the tables near the fire, but sighed and shook his head. Bosco wasn’t the kind of boss you just ignored. If he didn’t find Burt quick, it would be his head on the chopping block instead of the other man’s.

And hey, if he was quick enough, he might make it back in time to grab more food before the gluttons finished it all.

With that in mind, he approached the first adventurer he could find. The man leaned against an open barrel of mead, a dirty, half-filled mug listing to one side, absentmindedly spilling its contents on the ground. As for the man himself, he stared into the blazing fire, unblinking, as if it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

The team leader walked over and kicked the man in the shin as he spoke. “Yo! Have you seen Burt anywhere? Bosco is looking for him.”

The man didn’t respond at first, but slowly, he turned and stared up at the team leader with a blank expression. Suddenly, the man’s eyes went wide, and he heaved.

“Don’t you d—” was as far as the team leader got before the man retched all over his good pair of boots.

“Bastard!” the team leader yelled and kicked the man over. The drunk man didn’t even respond, simply falling over in a heap, his eyes still wide open and staring into the flames.

“Bloody hell?…” the team leader asked himself, raising a brow at the sight. He leaned over the barrel of mead, and an acidic, rancid smell hit him. He pulled back and wrinkled his nose.

Bad mead, then? Ooof, he’d been there before. The poor sod would be tripping balls for hours, then spend the next week on the toilet. Now that he had a good look around, the team leader spotted a few other adventurers in a similar state. On the way back, he’d have to get one of the goblins to switch the barrel out for a fresh one. It wasn’t his fault the idiots were too stupid not to drink rancid mead, but he was sure someone would still find a way to put the blame on him.

The team leader left the man to his troubles and approached another adventurer. This time, one that was actually standing and coherent, given they were chatting with a small group.

“Hey! Have any of you lot seen Burt?” the team leader asked.

The group turned to look at him, then at each other, each shaking their heads. One man looked at the team leader and said, “No, sorry, not since we left for the hunt. But you know, Burt. He’ll show up, eventually.”

The team leader sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He’d lose his buzz at this rate! He waved the group off. “Well, if you do see him, tell him Bosco wants him. Now.”

The group raised their mugs in salute while the team leader walked away.

Three such conversations later, and it was quite apparent that no one had seen Burt or his team for several days now. Not since the hunt. A few mentioned seeing them the first day while everyone searched the woods, but after that, nothing.

Strange.

The team leader narrowed his eyes as a sinking feeling formed in the pit of his stomach. Still, before he went and cried wolf, the team leader decided he’d try his peer’s advice and check the huts. Who knew? Maybe the idiot had come back, gotten drunk, and passed out in a corner somewhere. It wouldn’t have been the first time. With that in mind, he turned and headed away from the village square and deeper into the village.

————————————

The goblin village was pitch black. In a normal situation, the small streets between the huts and other buildings would be lit by crude crystal torches.

Said torches had been one of the first things plundered by the adventurers. Now, the unpaved streets were lit only by the dim light from the lumoss high above. Given that the moss was currently in its ‘night’ cycle, giving about as much light as a star-filled sky, that was to say not much.

Not that the cavern was well lit even in the ‘day,’ but the inky darkness of caverns had a different feel to it compared to a dark night under the open sky. At least the team leader always felt so.

That said, the team leader’s eyesight was far from mundane.

As a peak [Golden Spirit] cultivator, they were a step above the common dregs typical of the lower rungs in the gang. That was one reason they’d made team leader in the first place. Hell, he’d probably make a decent living as a more legit adventurer if he hadn’t fallen on some hard times and had to sign up with Icefinger.

All that was to say, that despite the darkness, the team leader strode down the dark roads with confidence.

As he passed each hut, he scanned for any out-of-place spirit signals that would tell him if Burt or one of his team were inside. He only found goblins, however. The goblins had learned quickly that it was best to stay indoors if they weren’t being used, such as the servants at the feast.

Lest they attract the attention of a particularly grumpy adventurer.

As time passed with no sign of anyone but goblins, the team leader started becoming frustrated… and worried. Had something happened to Burt and his team? The scouts had tried to find any major threats over the last few days, but had turned up little. Other than the Demon Ant colony that took up the southern wall and the Mud Drake near the river, there wasn’t anything here that could threaten most of the adventurers. Not while in a group, at least.

While the team leader didn’t think Burt was the sharpest tool in the shed, he doubted the man was stupid enough to mess with either of those threats. So what had happened?

So lost in his thoughts was he, that the team leader never noticed the miniscule glint of light off of an object stretching from one side of the road to the other. Not until the man lifted a foot, only for it to catch, causing him to fall face forward into the muddy road.

“Pfft, what the hell?!” the team leader sputtered, wiping the thin coating of mud off his face.

He turned and stared at the tripwire stretched across the road and frowned, his alcohol-laden mind trying to process exactly what he was seeing.

Had one of the goblin kids played a prank on them? Maybe set it up for one of the patrolling adventurers? Wait until he found out which one of the little brats had done it.

With a grumble, the team leader pushed himself to his knee, and that’s when he noticed it. A shape, a dark shadow hidden under one of the nearby buildings, staring at him. It was far too dark even for his enhanced eyesight to make out much detail, but his [Spirit Sight] told him it was a goblin.

It looked like his hunch was right. Moreover, the brat had even stuck around to see him humiliate himself like that!

The team leader bared his teeth and growled, yelling at the shadowed figure. “Like games, do you? We’ll see how much you like games when I’m playing ball with your head!”

The figure didn’t react. Not at first. But after a moment, it dragged itself out from under the building and stood, silent. It was then that the team leader noticed something else.

The figure wasn’t alone.

Slowly, more figures emerged from under the nearby houses, half a dozen of them, and stood in a semicircle a few meters in front of him. The team leader narrowed his eyes and frowned. Something wasn’t right.

“Who are you?” he asked. “What’s going on here?”. The team leader tried to stand, only to find that the tripwire had somehow wrapped itself around both his feet without his awareness.

Suddenly far more sober, the team leader turned and stared at the original figure.

The shadowed figure said nothing in response to his questions. Instead, a single, blindingly red light suddenly bloomed to life in the middle of their shadowed head, like a demon’s eye staring into his soul. Judging.

The team leader’s heart pounded faster at that sight, and he scrambled backward, tugging at the strange wire that wouldn’t budge, even under his cultivator strength.

One by one, similar lights came to life on the faces of the other shadowed figures, lighting the dark road in their eerie glow.

That’s when the team leader screamed.