Chapter 400

Chapter 400: Chapter 400

After waiting for some time, Lynn heard a series of heavy thuds echoing from the depths of the valley.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

Each impact sounded as though something immensely heavy had struck the earth, causing the ground beneath his feet to tremble.

Lynn narrowed his eyes and looked toward the source of the noise.

The goblin guards at the valley entrance, who had been standing rigidly at attention, suddenly began to stir. They pulled back their spears and retreated to either side, clearing a wide path while collectively turning toward the depths of the valley.

"The King has arrived!" one of the goblins announced in a shrill voice.

A towering Mountain Troll soon emerged, surrounded by a large procession of goblins.

The Troll stood nearly five meters tall. Its grayish-brown skin was as rough as stone weathered by countless years of wind and rain, making it resemble a small walking mountain.

It lumbered out from the depths of the valley, passed beneath the gateway formed by the colossal golden statue, and strode toward Lynn.

Lynn scratched his head in confusion.

How had the king of the goblins become a Troll?

It was only when the creature drew closer that he noticed the chair strapped to its back—and the goblin sitting upon it.

The goblin was even shorter than the guards at the gate. He had an enormous head, a tiny body, and unusually short limbs, making him look like a potato that had been flattened and then given arms and legs.

His skin was a dark yellowish-black, as though he had either been smoked over a fire for years or left soaking in muddy water.

Scars crisscrossed his face from forehead to chin and from one cheek to the other. There were so many of them that Lynn could not begin to guess how often the goblin had been slashed.

He was exceptionally ugly.

Lynn calmly withdrew his gaze and formed a concise evaluation of the Goblin King.

Short, stout, and wider than he was tall.

Lynn truly could not understand how such a fellow had managed to become the ruler of the goblins.

In truth, this goblin’s succession had not exactly followed the traditional customs of his people.

He had originally been the godson of the previous king, who had several daughters but no sons. Desperate for a male heir, the former king had selected an intelligent young goblin from the tribe, adopted him, and carefully groomed him to inherit the throne.

Unfortunately, the adopted son had not been content to remain subordinate until his father’s natural death.

Thus, he had chosen the simplest and most direct solution.

He killed his adoptive father and seized the throne ahead of schedule.

It sounded like a painfully clichéd tale, but that was precisely what had happened.

When the Mountain Troll reached Lynn, the Goblin King leaped down from the chair strapped to its back. His mouth stretched into a grin that nearly reached his ears, while his narrow eyes became little more than two slits.

He hurried toward Lynn with remarkable enthusiasm.

"A friend from afar! Welcome!"

He spread his arms wide.

"I am King Ragnuk. I was just preparing to send the sword to Hogwarts, yet you arrived before my messenger could depart."

Ragnuk paused, and his laughter grew even louder.

"How embarrassing! I have truly failed as a host."

Lynn searched through what he remembered from his History of Magic textbooks.

Ragnuk...

This should be the goblin who had forged a sword for Godric Gryffindor.

In that case, the sword he had mentioned could only be the Sword of Gryffindor.

A satisfied smile appeared on Lynn’s face.

"Perfect," he said calmly. "When I return, I can deliver the sword to Professor Gryffindor myself. That will save Your Majesty the trouble of sending someone to Hogwarts."

Ragnuk’s eyes darted around.

"Sir..." His voice lowered slightly. "What about my dear old friend Godric? Why did he not come personally?"

How was Lynn supposed to know?

Ever since arriving at Hogwarts a thousand years in the past, he had not seen Gryffindor even once.

He had asked Hufflepuff about it, but she had not known Godric’s exact whereabouts either. All she could tell him was that Gryffindor was currently traveling across the land, visiting famous witches and wizards and challenging them to duels in order to sharpen his skills.

"Professor Gryffindor is currently away from Hogwarts," Lynn replied. "He is visiting powerful wizards and challenging them to duels."

Ragnuk showed no suspicion upon hearing the explanation.

He tugged on the chain attached to the Mountain Troll and moved aside, clearing the road before gesturing toward the valley.

"Sir, please come inside," he said warmly. "Allow me to prepare a proper welcome for such an honored guest."

Lynn followed the Troll through the gate and into the valley.

Beyond the narrow entrance stood a relatively small goblin city-state, enclosed on every side by sheer cliffs. The towering rock walls rose into the clouds, blocking most of the sunlight and casting the settlement below into perpetual shadow.

The ground within the valley, however, consisted of rich black soil.

At the very center of the canyon stood an enormous pyramid.

...

The pyramid’s central hall had been transformed into a banquet chamber, with long tables covered in food and drink.

Seated at the head of the feast, Ragnuk waved his short arms enthusiastically at the goblins performing below.

"Keep the music playing! Keep dancing!"

Lynn watched the performance for only a few moments before losing all interest.

What was so entertaining about watching a group of ugly goblins dance?

If they had been Veela, that would have been another matter entirely.

Lynn sighed inwardly.

Perhaps his standards were simply too high.

At this point, even a group of female centaurs would have been far more pleasant to look at than the goblins dancing before him.

Unfortunately, the banquet’s food was no more appealing than its entertainment.

The goblin diet differed considerably from that of human wizards. They favored raw meat, roots, and fungi—especially fungi, of which they possessed a bewildering variety.

Several kinds had been piled across the tables.

Some were shaped like umbrellas, others like spheres, strips, or blocks. Their colors ranged from white and gray to brown and pitch-black. A few still had clumps of soil stuck to them, as though they had been dug out of the ground moments before being served.

Lynn picked up a piece of white fungus and turned it over in his fingers.

Its scent was extremely faint, almost nonexistent. Only a subtle freshness lingered around it, reminiscent of damp soil after rain.

He placed it in his mouth and chewed.

The flavor was mild to the point of being nearly tasteless, while its texture was crisp, almost like biting into a thin piece of ice.

There was nothing particularly special about it.

If its appearance had been a little more appetizing, it might have made a decent snack.

Of course, without his [Poison Gland Assimilation], Lynn would never have dared to eat unknown mushrooms in the first place.

Mushrooms were notoriously unpredictable.

Some caused hallucinations. Others sent their victims into a sleep from which they would never awaken. A few could kill a person almost instantly.

How did that song go again?

Red caps, white stems—eat them, and together we’ll lie on wooden boards. Lie on the boards, sleep inside coffins, and finally be buried in the mountains together.

By the time the banquet approached its end, Lynn had eaten very little.

Ragnuk suddenly clapped his hands.

The dancing goblins stopped moving. The musicians fell silent, and even the servants walking between the tables froze in place.

A young goblin soon entered the hall with a longsword held respectfully in both hands. He crossed the chamber and presented it to Lynn.

"Lynn, inspect it carefully," Ragnuk called from the head seat. "If you find no problems, then our delivery will be considered complete."

Lynn accepted the sword and examined it.

Several magnificent rubies were embedded in its hilt, gleaming brilliantly beneath the candlelight.

Judging from its appearance alone, it was undoubtedly the Sword of Gryffindor.

However, Lynn simply did not believe that a group of notoriously greedy goblins would surrender such a magnificent weapon so easily.

Impossible.

There must be a catch.

Lynn shook his head inwardly before looking up at the Goblin King.

"King Ragnuk," he said, "this sword of yours wouldn’t happen to be a counterfeit, would it?"

Ragnuk’s hand trembled.

"One should not make such accusations carelessly..." He cleared his throat, raised his wine cup, and took a sip before looking back at Lynn. "I am the dignified king of the goblins. Would I present Hogwarts with a counterfeit sword?"

He paused and took another drink.

"Look at the blade," he continued, drawing a circle in the air with one finger. "Such sharpness and craftsmanship could only have come from the hands of goblins."

Ragnuk raised his chin proudly.

"You may test it however you wish."

"Oh? Is that so?"

Lynn placed his wine cup aside, rose from his seat, and drew the sword.

Shing!

The blade slid free of its scabbard with a crisp metallic sound. Although the noise itself was faint, it carried clearly through the now-silent banquet hall.

Under the candlelight, the polished blade reflected a piercing white gleam so bright that Lynn had to narrow his eyes.

Without warning, he raised the sword over his shoulder, aimed at the stone table before him, and swung downward.

The blade passed through the tabletop from one end to the other in a single smooth motion.

Only a thin streak of white light flashed between the sword and the stone.

A heartbeat later, the table split cleanly down the middle.

The two halves toppled to either side and struck the floor with a pair of heavy thuds. Food, wine, cups, and plates scattered everywhere, filling the hall with a chaotic chorus of crashes and clattering.

Lynn’s sudden action terrified every goblin present.

Ignoring their frightened expressions, he casually ran a finger along the flat of the blade.

It remained just as bright and flawless as before. Not even the smallest scratch marred its edge.

Lynn nodded, and a satisfied smile slowly appeared on his face.

"It is indeed a fine sword," he said.

His voice was not loud, yet it carried with perfect clarity through the chaotic hall.

Lynn raised his head and looked at Ragnuk, who was still struggling to maintain his smile.

Then he laughed.

"Hahaha! I was only joking earlier."

He returned the blade to its scabbard and laid the sword across what remained of the table.

"How could such a magnificent weapon possibly be a fake?"

Ragnuk’s tense shoulders immediately relaxed, and his smile regained its earlier warmth.

"Then... shall we consider the delivery—"

"There’s no need to rush."

Lynn waved one hand and smiled brightly at the Goblin King.

"The sword can remain with you for now. I can collect it when I leave."

Ragnuk’s smile froze once again.

He stared at Lynn.

Lynn stared back.

One second passed.

Then two.

Then three.

"Hahaha! That sounds perfectly reasonable!"

Ragnuk’s laughter rang through the hall once more.

He picked up his wine cup and raised it toward Lynn.

"Come! Let us drink!"

Ragnuk emptied the cup in a single gulp before slamming it onto the table with a heavy thud.

Lynn picked up his own cup and drained it as well.

When he set it down, its base struck a fragment of the shattered stone table with a crisp clink.

"I’m afraid I can’t drink any more," Lynn said, rubbing his temples as his brow furrowed. "I seem to have overindulged. My head is beginning to hurt."

His gaze lingered on Ragnuk’s face for a moment before moving away.

"I’ll retire and rest for a while."

Lynn rose from his chair, straightened his robes, and gave Ragnuk a polite nod before turning toward the exit.

Ragnuk remained seated at the head of the banquet hall, silently watching Lynn depart.

As Lynn’s figure disappeared through the doorway, the warm smile on the Goblin King’s face slowly faded.

His fingers tapped twice against the armrest of his chair.

"Someone, come here."

A goblin servant cautiously poked his head out from behind a corner.

"Follow him," Ragnuk ordered. "Keep a close eye on everything he does."

The servant nodded before silently slipping back into the shadows.

---

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