Chapter 398 - 322: Snatching a Person

Chapter 398: Chapter 322: Snatching a Person

"Let me go! Who the hell are you?" The Magic Artisan, Marshall, was trussed up on the floor, writhing like a skinny maggot. "That old bastard Baxter actually found me, and I’d already hidden myself in the slums of Torch City."

He wailed loudly, but his eyes were blindfolded with a black cloth, leaving him unable to see. He could, however, still hear the soft murmur of conversation nearby.

"The craftsmanship isn’t bad," Shire said, spreading his arms and admiring the dark leather Trench Coat he wore. It was made from Chameleon Hide, adorned with several Small Magic Crystal Stones, and a circular Arcane Rune Array was carved into the back.

"Just cup the Magic Crystal Stones on the collar with both hands to activate its Magic Ability and turn invisible instantly," Little John explained attentively from the side. On the table next to him lay several more leather Trench Coats.

"I’ll give it a try," Shire said, walking to a mirror. He grasped the Magic Crystal Stones embedded in the Trench Coat’s collar. They were about the size of large, decorative buttons. As he did, with a soft *WHOOSH*, Shire found he could no longer see his reflection. "It was like I blinked, and suddenly I was gone."

"Amazing, right, Boss? Marshall made this general-use version of the Magic Item just like you asked," Little John said, staring at the spot in front of the mirror where Shire was no longer visible. "He charged a pretty penny for it, too."

"Who’s there?" Marshall yelled from his spot on the floor. But Little John and Shire had deliberately lowered their voices, so he could only squirm, trying to inch his body closer to the source of the sound. "Somebody, help me!"

"Not bad at all." Shire grasped the Magic Crystal Stones on the collar again to deactivate his invisibility. He had already crept silently to Little John’s side, and his sudden reappearance made the other man jump with a start.

"Huh? Is that you?" Hearing Little John’s cry of "Ah!", the blindfolded Marshall instantly recognized his voice. "I already made the thing you commissioned! Why are you doing this to me?"

"Were you sent by that guy Baxter? Listen, I’m just a simple artisan. If you let me go, I’ll make Magic Items for you free of charge. I swear!"

Shire and Little John exchanged a look, then both turned their gaze to Marshall on the floor. He had stopped squirming and had even shrunk back a little in fear.

"Marshall Bob. Or perhaps I should call you the ’Glove of the God of Magic’," Shire said, walking toward him with a smile.

"No, I’m not!" Hearing Shire’s words, the old man, Marshall, shrank back even faster, frantically trying to explain. "My name is Marshall! I’m just an ordinary, bankrupt artisan, not some ’Glove’! You’ve got the wrong person!"

"Is that so? Then what if I take you before Elder Count Baxter and ask him if you were the one who crafted the Charming Brooch?" Shire stood over Marshall, looking down at the Magic Artisan on the floor. "I imagine his wife would be absolutely delighted to see you."

"You... You’re a Demon." Marshall fell silent for a few seconds, as if coming to a realization. "Fine, I did it. I made the Magic Item that old bastard used to trick his wife. But what did I do wrong? I’m just an artisan! I already fled to Torch City, so why won’t you leave me alone?"

He stopped shrinking back and instead began to struggle violently. "If you’ve got the guts, then kill me right now!"

"Got some backbone, don’t you," Shire remarked with a grin, then motioned for Little John to remove Marshall’s blindfold.

"You?!" The moment the black cloth came off, old Marshall threw his head toward Little John, trying to headbutt him. But given his age and the fact he was still tightly bound on the floor, knocking Little John over was pure fantasy.

Furthermore, his vision had just begun to return, and all he could make out was a blurry human shape, which did little to aid his resistance.

"We’re not Baxter’s men," Shire said, watching Marshall’s fierce struggling and shaking his head with a smile. "So there’s no need for all this."

"Huh? You’re not?" Hearing the voice opposite him, Marshall finally stopped moving. He strained to lift his head, his eyes adjusting to the light. At last, the figure standing before him came into focus. "A... a goblin?"

"That’s right," Shire said, folding his arms and looking down at the old man. "As you can see, I am a goblin. But if you’d prefer, you can call me Boss."

"Boss?" Marshall was stunned for a moment, then erupted into laughter. "Are you kidding me? A Green-skinned Goblin wants to be a boss? I must be dreaming, or the whole world’s been taken over by a Demon Lord."

He struggled to sit up, but the ropes were too tight. After a few futile attempts, he gave up.

Shire said nothing, simply watching Marshall on the floor with a smile. He waited until the laughter subsided before speaking in a slow, deliberate tone. "If there’s anyone in this world who can offer you sanctuary, I’m it. The nobles won’t risk offending the Elder Count for you. The common folk can’t help. The Church is even less willing to get involved. If you want to live, ’Glove of the God of Magic,’ your only choice is to obey me."

The old man looked up, studying the goblin before him. From his point of view, all he could see was the goblin in the dark leather Trench Coat and Little John standing nearby with a smile. This upward-looking angle felt strange to him.