CHAPTER 121: UNLEASHING THE HUNTER! (1)

’What the fuck is this smell’

Bryce’s eyes snapped to the bedroll.

Lyra was there. Sleeping peacefully under a blanket, fully wrapped, the cover pulled all the way up to her head. Just her face was visible—calm, resting, unaware. She looked untouched. Serene even.

Bryce narrowed his eyes.

He didn’t know she was naked underneath.

He didn’t know the sheets were hiding a whole different story.

And he didn’t know that somewhere under all of that, buried in the pile of chaos and scent, was his damn sword.

...

Back at the holy church, Maximus and Jonathan stood in tense silence, staring at one another across the long chamber table.

The morning light filtered in through the stained-glass windows, but neither man paid it any mind.

Jonathan held a letter in his hand. The contents had drained the color from his face the moment he read it.

He hadn’t spoken for a while, and when he finally did, his voice came low and heavy.

"You’re telling me... that abomination of a beast was hiding under our nose this entire time and we didn’t even know about it"

He couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t accept what he was reading.

The idea felt impossible. Ridiculous. But the seal was real. The report was from the damn traitor.

The Goblin King. Not just alive—but inside their borders.

Inside their kingdom.

Inside the damn hero camp.

Disguised as one of the regular goblins. Just... existing. Blending in. Playing weak. Pretending to be harmless.

And all this time, the heroes had been searching in the wrong places, sweeping forests, clearing dungeons, sending out squads into barren wastelands.

And yet, the target was never out there.

He was right there. At the heart of the hero camp.

Maximus finally spoke, slamming a hand on the table.

"No wonder the heroes failed to find the damn goblin. He was right under their nose all along. They were just playing along with whatever plan he had laid out."

His jaw tightened. The veins on his temples stood out.

He wasn’t just angry. He was humiliated.

This wasn’t some minor oversight. This was a complete intelligence collapse.

The most dangerous goblin in recorded history, a creature known for collapsing five human cities in three months, had been hiding in their own territory like it was some kind of joke.

Maximus turned to the massive war map hung on the wall. Pins scattered across it, lines showing routes, known enemy positions, goblin-infested zones.

He stared at the lines for a long time.

They had been looking everywhere except where they should’ve.

The monster that had survived a full-scale assault from seven fully armed heroes—each one handpicked, battle-tested, and ranked among the strongest in the entire kingdom.

And it had lived.

That alone was enough to make Maximus feel a cold pressure settle in his chest.

He didn’t like admitting it, but facts were facts. The heroes were the most powerful weapons the kingdom possessed.

They held strength normal humans couldn’t match.

And if they couldn’t kill the Goblin King, if they had fought and failed, then the situation was far worse than anyone had thought.

For something like that to be inside the kingdom. Not at the border. Not on the fringe. Inside. Deep. Burrowed right under their noses like a parasite playing dead.

It made Maximus feel sick.

A shiver ran down his spine.

He wasn’t weak. He had strength. He had resources. Influence. Cunning. But he wasn’t a hero. And he definitely wasn’t the Goblin King.

Which is why he had gone through the trouble of bringing the Church into this. That was the entire reason he asked the High Father for help in the first place.

He needed power.

Not just individual strength—numbers.

Blessed warriors. Templar knights. Clerics who could nullify magic. Fanatics who would throw their lives away at a single word. He needed all of it.

If he wanted to break the heroes, he had to overwhelm them. One by one. Crush them under doctrine and divine law.

And now, finally, he had enough pieces on the board to make a move.

Once the heroes were dealt with—once their little alliance shattered—then it would be time to deal with the second part of his plan.

The throne.

It was his brother’s now, yes. But not for long.

Maximus had waited. Worked. Manipulated the court quietly from behind the scenes.

The moment the heroes were out of the way, the next step was to remove his brother from power and take the crown himself.

But that could wait.

For now, the problem in front of him was the Goblin King.

A living threat. One hiding under the heroes. One likely watching everything unfold.

"Those fools"

Father Jonathan’s voice echoed through the chamber as he crushed the letter in his fist and hurled it to the floor.

The sound of paper hitting stone wasn’t loud, but the rage behind it made it sharp, final.

Maximus’s eyes lit up.

He had been waiting for this.

That rare moment when the calm, composed Father of the Church allowed himself to get angry. It didn’t happen often.

Jonathan was a man of restraint. But when he snapped, it meant he would act. And Maximus needed him to act.

’Good. Good. Become more angry.’

Because the more furious Jonathan became, the easier it would be to justify extreme measures. Once emotion took the reins, reason followed behind.

That was what Maximus had been playing toward all this time. He just needed the right spark.

He walked forward slowly and placed a firm hand on the older man’s shoulder.

"Just think, that Goblin King, with his sinful, corrupt nature, walked freely across this land."

"Hiding among men. Among heroes. Defiling this soil with his presence. Polluting the kingdom with every breath he took."

He tightened his grip slightly.

"This land has become unholy. Blasphemous. A stain upon the divine order. We must purify it. Restore balance. Remove every false symbol and every rotten piece of filth."

He didn’t say the names of the heroes.

He didn’t have to.

The implication was clear. And Jonathan’s silence said enough.

The priest’s face was locked in a frown now. His eyes low, hands clenched at his sides. He was thinking. Calculating.

Wounded pride and religious duty clashing in his mind—but Maximus could see it. The outcome was already decided.

He had him.

And with the Church fully behind him, the rest would fall into place.

This wasn’t just about the Goblin King anymore. This was about control. The land. The throne.

The narrative. If the heroes were exposed as weak, compromised, corrupted by proximity to that beast, the people would lose faith in them.

And when that happened, Maximus’s brother, the current king, would have no choice but to step down.

He had no heir.

And when the throne became empty, it would be Maximus who stepped forward. Not as a usurper. Not as a schemer.

But as the rightful savior of the kingdom.

He would be crowned not with conflict, but with divine approval.

And once he was king, he would rule with precision. With strength. With clarity. No chaos. No compromises. No rotting alliances.

His reign would be absolute.

And it would be remembered as the greatest in the kingdom’s history.

’And for that, I need this fool under my palm.’

Maximus stood behind the father with a calm expression, but his thoughts were running fast—strategic, ruthless. He had already made his decision. Father Jonathan was no longer just a collaborator. He was a resource. A tool. One that needed to be handled with care.

That didn’t mean he planned to betray him. Not anymore.

That had been the old plan.

The Maximus from yesterday would have considered it. He would have thought about using the Church, then disposing of it once it had served its purpose. But after a full day of reflection, analyzing every angle, running through scenarios and possible outcomes—he had changed course.

He came to a better conclusion.

Father Jonathan was far more useful alive.

Not just alive—but empowered. Trusted. Honored. Let the man believe he was leading some holy crusade. Let him raise banners, preach sermons, call it divine justice. As long as Maximus could move the pieces behind the scenes, it didn’t matter what the Church said publicly.

’With him and his army under my whim, I can expand this kingdom further than any king before me.’

And he meant it.

Maximus wasn’t just thinking about the throne anymore. He had already set his sights beyond the borders. The neighboring kingdoms were fractured. Struggling. Busy with their own internal conflicts. It was the perfect time. A well-organized, well-funded invasion would crush them before they even knew what was happening.

But not under the banner of conquest. No.

That would cause resistance. Suspicion. Fear.

Maximus had a better idea.

He would cloak it in faith.

A holy crusade. Righteous, divinely sanctioned expansion. Let the Church take the spotlight. Let their flag wave higher than the royal crest. Let them claim the cause. That way, even the devout citizens of enemy kingdoms might turn sides without a fight.