Chapter 77 - The Goblin’s Fall and the Awakening of a King
Long, long ago...
Even back in the early archives of Exodia1, there had only been whispers. Faded scrolls. Fragnts of legend.
They called them the Guides of Souls.
You see, goblins weren’t monsters to begin with. Not really. They were NPCs—part of an ancient race, almost divine. They used to help the lost. Soothe the dead. Lead wandering spirits to peace.
But at so point... they changed.
They started twisting souls. Playing with them. Even feeding on them to grow stronger.
That brought ruin, a terrible one.
Their power—everything they had built—was sealed away.
Into a single artifact ... The Goblin Mask.
No one rembered who did it. Not even the oldest records could say.
But one thing was certain.
From that day on, goblins were no longer guides. No longer protectors. They beca beasts—dim, degraded, driven only by hunger.
And so, their story... was quietly buried.
Just old words in forgotten books.
—
"No... it’s not my fault..." A low, broken voice murmured in the dark.
He didn’t even realize he was speaking.
Lykan the Three-Horned Goblin trembled where he crouched. His claws dug into the stone. His shoulders shuddered.
Too many mories.
mories that didn’t belong to...Now.
"Leave alone..."
They were all around him. Spirits. So many of them. Pale and soft like candlelight, flickering close, watching him.
Their stares were heavy and accusing.
"I didn’t an to..."
His voice cracked.
He didn’t know which was worse—the eyes of the dead or the silence.
They were there, always there. Whispering. Weeping. Telling him what he already knew.
He had failed.
Even with three horns. Even after devouring his own kind. Even with all that power, he’d beco nothing but a hungry ghost himself.
A puppet for a false king.
A monster that only sought souls.
He curled up tighter.
’I didn’t want this... I never asked for this future...’
The ghosts didn’t care.
They hovered closer.
More and more of them.
He was sinking. No way out.
Nowhere left to go.
Then—
A gentle, soft voice, "Please... just let these souls rest."
It floated through the dark like a breeze. Like a whisper through trees.
And then he saw it.
Sothing approaching.
Sothing... familiar.
Lykan blinked, His breath caught in his throat.
That thing—he knew it.
Every goblin knew it.
It was an instinct ...It was a mory... It was a legend.
The Goblin Mask.
His eyes fixed on it, wide and glassy.
So this was where it all started.
That mask...
That cursed, sacred thing...
And in it—he saw sothing else.
A figure, another goblin, was fighting him.
eting him, soul for soul, blow for blow.
Even though he was a storm of spirits, even though he had beco a monster...
That goblin stood tall.
Lykan’s heart clenched.
’A peculiar...’ A na from stories, from bedti tales.
The one who walks among nightmares.
The ghost eater...The true one.
Lykan dropped to his knees.
"...My King..."
"Haa... haah... haaa!"
Gasping, clutching his chest.
Adonis and Walt finally stopped running.
His boots scraped the ground as he stumbled to a halt. Behind him, the ground was still shaking. Booming, like bombs dropping.
He turned.
His voice ca out hoarse, "...What the hell was that thing?"
Next to him, the man in the panda mask frowned. He didn’t answer. He just stared.
Words wouldn’t co easy right now.
No one knew what they’d seen, but they’d felt it.
It wasn’t just a monster.
"It was a beast," Panda finally said. Quiet. Shaken. "A real one."
Walt nodded.
Yeah, not a normal enemy.
Not sothing from the ga.
It was huge. Wrong. Like sothing that slipped in from another world.
Even if the boss of a D-rank dungeon showed up right in front of them—like that lizard general—that pressure still wouldn’t compare.
No, that thing...
"It was more like a Lizard King," Walt muttered.
A C-rank nightmare. Sothing you’re not supposed to see unless you’re ready to die.
He wiped the sweat from his brow. Cold, sticky.
His heart was still pounding.
Panda glanced over. "It wasn’t just the monster..."
Walt nodded again. He knew what Panda ant.
There was soone else.
Soone, fighting it. Soone who wasn’t supposed to be able to.
A man, but not quite.
He was speaking—using Corelandsn, even—but his voice? It sounded like wind through a grave. Like sothing unclean.
And his body was covered in things that didn’t belong to people.
Walt shivered.
"Do you think he was human?"
Panda didn’t answer.
Neither did Walt, he didn’t want to.
"...Team leader. What do we do?" Panda asked quietly. "A lot of people... aren’t answering."
Walt’s head turned.
"What?"
"Four of them," Panda said. "No response."
They started walking. Slowly. Toward the eting point. The air was still heavy. The dungeon trembled under their feet.
And there—
In the far corner of District D-5—so of the team was waiting.
They were carrying packs.
Big ones.
But their faces were pale.
"Finch isn’t responding."
"Neither is Tomas..."
"Team leader. Arthur’s gone quiet too."
Walt looked around, and He understood imdiately.
They didn’t see it.
The thing. The monster. The man.
Only he had, He rubbed the side of his mask. Lightly. A habit he always did when he had to think.
’Technically, we should confirm if they’re alive. Recover any items...’
That was the rule.
But he clenched his teeth, and made his call.
"We’re leaving."
The others froze.
"...What?"
Walt looked them all in the eye.
"I’m sorry. But we don’t have ti. We’re leaving."
Of course, they resisted.
"Tomas! It’s Finch! You know how much he respected you—!"
"I said stop."
"And Tomas ! He signed up just to work under you, Team Leader—!"
"I said that’s ENOUGH!"
His voice cut sharp.
Sharp enough to silence them.
He looked around. Once. Slowly.
"I’m sorry," he said again. "But we’re not going back. That place..."
He paused, and then said it, steady and clear.
"...That place is already hell. If we go, we die."
Behind them, the dungeon rumbled again.
A distant roar shook the walls.
Even the earth itself didn’t want them near that fight.
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