God Agent: All Hail The Great Kobold

Chapter 35: Aftermath

Ka’z lay motionless atop a bed of fresh hay, his chest rising and falling in slow, uneven breaths. Layers of clean cloth wrapped around his torso, shoulders, and limbs where Lady Zira and the other had dressed his wounds.

Beneath the bandages were bruises had already spread across much of his small body while several cracked scales had been carefully splinted to prevent further damage. Even in his sleep, both arms remained tightly wrapped around the steel staff taken from Boi. Every attempt to pry it from his grasp had failed.

Za’r sat quietly beside the bed, her hands folded neatly upon her lap as she watched him sleep. Dark circles rested beneath her eyes from exhaustion while the lingering ache of complete mana depletion still weighed heavily upon her body.

Every now and then her gaze drifted toward the cracked scales along Ka’z’s cheek before returning to his peaceful face. Had she arrived only moments later, she wasn’t sure she would still be watching him breathe.

Behind her, Kurg stood awkwardly near the entrance of the chamber. His usual timid expression had long since disappeared, replaced by quiet guilt that refused to leave him.

"He took heavy damage," Kurg murmured softly. "I don’t think I’ve ever seen Ka’z get hurt before."

His eyes never left the sleeping kobold. Throughout the years, Ka’z had always seemed strangely dependable. Even when everyone else panicked, he somehow found solutions. Seeing him lying unconscious, covered in bandages with broken scales and dried blood still clinging around the edges of his wounds, made him realize just how fragile they all truly were.

The mission had succeeded. The goblin camp had been destroyed and their supplies had burned. They had captured both a Battle Shaman and one of the enemy commanders alive.

By every military standard, It was a victory. Yet no one inside the colony felt victorious.

Nine kobolds had died. Tud’or remained unconscious after suffering countless wounds and blood loss. Tu’ka had narrowly survived an arrow driven through his neck and Ru’k’s body was covered in cuts and bruises after desperately shielding Tud’or during the retreat.

To keep Tud’or and Tu’ka alive, Za’r had exhausted every last drop of mana inside her body casting healing spell after healing spell until she eventually collapsed from sheer exhaustion. By the time she regained consciousness, there wasn’t enough mana left within her to treat anyone else. The remaining wounded would simply have to recover naturally.

"The goblin he fought was a Silver Core. We’re lucky he survived." Za’r finally whispered, her voice hollow.

She lowered her eyes toward Ka’z and the memory remained painfully vivid.

When Lan’ka and the others had finally reached him, Ka’z had still been standing. His body swayed uncontrollably while blood streamed from countless wounds. Parts of his face had swollen from repeated blows while several scales had shattered completely, exposing raw flesh beneath. Even then, one hand refused to release the Battle Shaman’s staff while the other kept Boi pinned at a distance.

He had remained standing through nothing but stubbornness. Only after Lan’ka confirmed the Battle Shaman had been restrained did Ka’z finally lose consciousness.

Without him, neither Boi nor Rok would’ve become prisoners.

The two most valuable sources of intelligence the Ashmork Clan possessed now sat beneath heavy guard inside the deepest chamber of the colony.

Objectively, it was an incredible achievement. Emotionally, it felt like they had paid far too much.

"Ka’z has always been amazing," Kurg said quietly. "I just... didn’t know he was that strong."

There was unmistakable admiration in his voice. Ever since the survivors had returned, story after story had spread throughout the colony.

How Ka’z had ordered everyone to leave him behind. How Ru’k had repeatedly thrown himself between Tud’or and the enemy despite shaking with fear or How Tu’ka continued fighting even after an arrow pierced straight through his neck.

Several warriors swore the quiet boy had simply snapped the shaft shorter before continuing to kill goblins as though nothing had happened.

Had Lan’ka’s team arrived even a little later, both Tud’or and Tu’ka would’ve died. Every member of their little group had contributed.

Every one of them, except him.

Kurg slowly lowered his head. That thought refused to leave him and for the first time in his life, he genuinely hated being the coward.

Meanwhile...

Deep within the shrine, Tong’a sat alone before the ancient wyvern skull mounted high upon the stone wall. Flickering candlelight danced across the countless carvings surrounding the shrine while fragrant herbs burned quietly inside a small clay bowl, filling the room with a calming scent that contrasted sharply against the unease gripping the colony.

Despite the thick stone walls surrounding him, Tong’a could still hear distant conversations echoing faintly through the tunnels.

The entire colony had been shaken. Even with every possible advantage...

Even after launching a surprise attack, their strongest warriors had barely escaped alive.

If that was the cost of attacking only thirty goblins. What would happen when over a hundred finally marched south?

The question haunted everyone, including him.

"More than ever," a familiar elderly voice spoke from behind him, "our people need spiritual reassurance."

Tong’a neither turned nor acknowledged the newcomer.

"They need to hear your voice. This is hardly the time to hide inside your shrine."

O’nil slowly entered, leaning heavily upon his walking cane before stopping beside the old priest.

Tong’a kept staring toward the wyvern skull. His eyes remained gently closed.

"Always running away from responsibility. Even old age cannot change some things.""

His calm voice echoed softly through the chamber and O’nil chuckled.

The old chieftain slowly lowered himself onto a small wooden stool before resting both hands atop his cane.

"Against an enemy with more than a hundred warriors and each capable of wielding heretical magic Do you truly believe these caves that protected us for fifty years can protect us again?"

His tired eyes drifted toward the shrine entrance. Tong’a remained silent until one minute passed. Only the crackling of burning herbs disturbed the stillness.

Finally his eyes slowly opened.

"The Vaal’kor Colony will not be erased by this misfortune."

O’nil slowly nodded. That answer alone was enough. Rather than pressing further, he changed the subject entirely.

"Did you hear?"

A faint smile appeared beneath his wrinkled face.

"Ka’z warned them beforehand."

Tong’a nodded immediately.

"I heard."

Tong’a finally turned. His usually calm eyes carried unmistakable disappointment.

"The Child of Prophecy delivered a prophecy. They chose not to listen."

He tightened his grip upon his staff.

"Our warriors were not defeated because they were weaker. They were defeated because they were ignorant."

O’nil quietly studied the old priest’s face. He understood that anger. The casualties hadn’t been unavoidable. That was precisely why they hurt so much.

After several moments, O’nil smiled.

"Good. That is exactly what you should tell everyone outside."

The old chieftain slowly rose using his cane and Tong’a’s forehead twitched violently.

"You lazy bastard!"

Without hesitation he snatched up his staff and hurled it across the shrine. O’nil surprisingly ducked with surprising agility for someone his age.

The staff flew harmlessly overhead before clattering loudly against the stone wall. The old chieftain burst into laughter. Supporting himself upon his cane, he hurried toward the exit with short, uneven steps that somehow looked more mischievous than graceful.

Tong’a watched him disappear through the doorway. A long sigh escaped his lips. That old fool, he couldn’t help but be reminded of Ru’k.

Loud, mostly useless and nearly powerless compared to everyone around him. Yet somehow, the entire group always seemed to move whenever he was around.

Even now with one foot practically inside the grave that stubborn old bastard still refused to grow up.