Craftsman Gizzlok

There are no clean underwear or glittering gold coins in the Wailing Caverns. Only desolation. Besides savage Centaur, poisonous weeds, and icy winds, there is nothing else. To survive, you eat grass roots, and what you excrete is... nothing at all; when hungry, even your excrement is digested. And of all the terrible things, the most abhorrent, the most cruel, the most deadly is my current predicament. I vaguely realize I've become the only living person in Maraudon.

"But why am I in this situation? Why did they put me with you, you idiot?" I started yelling again.

The Abomination leaned against a corner of the dark passageway. He merely snorted, and the stitches on his body seemed about to burst open, then he himself shattered into pieces of stone.

But why could those lines still withstand his muscle movements? His farts were unbearably smelly.

"I'm calling you, you cowardly bastard. Can't you get away from me?"

"Uh... um!" He turned his head to look in the other direction, and I thought he was about to leave. But it turned out that it was just a soft footstep that had caught his attention.

"Just a Goblins! Not even as big as the Abomination's palm! I really don't understand why the master let him live." Two Forsaken walking side by side—that's what they called themselves—pointed at me in the thorn cage.

"Hmm... uh?" Abomination half-opened his eyes and shook his head to shoo away the flies that kept buzzing around him.

"Huh? You're laughing at me too? Interesting? Hahaha, I've had enough of you, you brainless idiot. Your intelligence is as rare as the Patch on your body. Damn it, why would the Forsaken let you look after me? Do they expect you to lower my IQ?"

Abomination tilted its head back and rested it against the stone.

Talking to him was a complete waste of time. I should forgive him—but the rhythmic farting sounds of his were practically mocking me. The stench hit me like a slap in the face.

"Enough, you bastard!" I turned my nose away from the stench and plopped down on the ground, vowing never to look at him again, that stupid thing. But his structure was truly remarkable, so I couldn't help but glance at him again, wondering how he had ever been created.

That's not my problem; I need to figure out how to escape. Even though every entrance to Maraudon is miles away, that's no excuse to give up. And that's what I have to do, regardless of whether that simple-minded Frankenstein's monster will stop me.

But no matter what, I shouldn't have come to this godforsaken place. I really regret it!

When I first arrived in Wailing Caverns, the sun was just beginning to set behind the horizon. At this time of day, the light plays tricks on your eyes. The adventure party came from Ratchet; it didn't matter how many people were there, since they were all dead now. Most had perished during the exploration of Maraudon; I was the only survivor, trapped here, until the Forsaken stormed in and began their carnage. When an Undead raised his axe to kill me, his master stopped him. The moment that fellow approached me, I felt the temperature around me drop considerably.

He spared my life, but locked me in a cage, displaying me like a work of art. I thought I would live like this forever, until that pale-skinned Elf came.

Her name is Veronalara, and she's here to discuss a collaboration. I happen to have a lot of thoughts on business. It's been years since I've had a serious conversation about this topic with anyone.

I was just about to take a big gulp of mushroom juice and listen carefully to what the "corpse" was saying when I heard her voice.

That was the sound of heavy objects being moved; they were placing something. There were stone slabs, tools, and shooting targets. They were renovating, trying to transform Maraudon into their desired style.

"We need a craftsman!" Her voice was icy. But a wide smile spread across my face, as if a mountain of gold coins were piled up before me. These Undead wanted to recruit me. I could understand why their leader had spared my life; in that respect, he was wise.

Humans and Elf have never been particularly adept at engineering. So even with brilliant minds, they couldn't fathom how to transform a cave into a habitable place. However, I happen to be neither of those races, and I am a genius myself. So this was a piece of cake for me.

My blood instantly boiled. This collaboration might allow me to make a fortune. Maraudon is no ordinary place; it's vast and expansive... which also means there's a lot of money to be made.

I gulped down a mouthful of mushroom juice and stood up in front of the pale-skinned lady.

How much are you willing to pay?

She looked up and gave me an enigmatic smile. "Looks like you're not ready yet." She left again. How many times has this happened?

"Come back! Come back!" I shouted. "I'm all set, as long as the price is right."

She never turned around, but the Frankenstein's monster stared blankly at me. Sometimes I reminded myself that he didn't actually understand what I was saying.

I threw the empty water bag at his face. "Get your ass away from me, you bunch of corpses!"

He sprang to his feet, his eyes widening in alarm. A corpse! He understood the word; wasn't he himself a corpse?

Veronalara would come at almost the same time every day, and then she would leave as soon as I brought up money. I increasingly suspected that she was just using the word "cooperation" to play with me.

My surroundings are changing too. These Forsaken work tirelessly. They seem to have no end in sight. Sometimes I think that if I had a company that used them to do my bidding, I could make a lot of money.

Why not? Their engineering is absolutely terrible, as bad as the ocean floor. The tools they use to chisel rocks are just piles of dog shit. The stone slabs stuck to the walls were found in toilet drains.

They can waste materials, but they cannot insult engineering.

"Stop! That slab should be over there!" I roared, pointing to the other end. The two Forsaken didn't understand a word he was saying. This was an act that would get their wages docked!

"No, no, no, that's not right! It's over there! Over there!" I desperately stretched out my claws, trying to move the stone slab to the right place, but it was being moved in the opposite direction by the two Forgotten Ones.

"Ugh... Ugh!" the stitched monster cried out. Someone was approaching, and I knew who it was without even thinking.

"You seem quite interested in the project that's currently underway in Maraudon?"

"Wait, madam. Don't go any closer. Let those men move the stone slab over there."

Veronalara slowly stopped, but instead of doing as I instructed, she pulled a roll of parchment from behind her back. Holding one end upright in her left hand, the entire drawing unfolded naturally.

Maraudon? A map of Maraudon! But it seems to have human writing on it: Military District, which is where I'm currently being held. Mage District, Alchemy District. How interesting!

"We need a craftsman," the face beneath the black cloak repeated.

"Hmm...uh!" Abomination murmured, as if to say that he was capable of doing the job.

I wanted to ask about the price again, but the thought that Veronalara might leave again made me resist the urge.

"Why should I help you?" I asked casually, then pointed at the Forsaken. "Your people are all show and no substance. I'm warning you, that wall isn't stable. You'd better fix it quickly, otherwise..."

"Otherwise what?" Veronalara asked, looking at me like I was a clown.

"Tall man, you'd better understand you're talking to an engineer. I'm Gizzlok, the best craftsman in Ratchet. You can't hire me for less than a thousand gold coins."

Veronalara began to chuckle. I'll leave her speechless with amazement—as long as I show her my true abilities.

"What makes you think you're right?" the Elf asked with a smile.

"I have a good mind. Many wealthy people have praised me."

"This is now the territory of the Forsaken. We only accept help from our own people. Our leader, the Witherer, calls you a genius craftsman."

"Hey, your leader? Why didn't you say so sooner?!" I spat on the ground. "He's right, that's why he let me live. He wants to transform this land, as long as I can help him."

"Then you must live up to his evaluation of you."

"I will draw him the best design in the world!"

"He needs more than just your knowledge."

I started to get nervous. I realized that I had nothing but excellent computing talent and outstanding engineering knowledge.

He needs you!

What I sometimes forget is that humans and Elf don't see us the way we see them. Their eyes are always filled with disdain, or they use money to drive us to work for them. We'll do anything for them as long as the price is right—though it sounds like the truth.

"Price..."

"We don't have the money to pay your salary at the moment!"

"What?!" I exclaimed in disbelief. This guy was completely wasting my time. Who would do work that doesn't pay?

"Because all resources, including gold coins, must be used to build our city."

I suppressed my anger! Veronalara's obvious implication made it impossible for me to look away from her sickly face. "A city? That means a place with lots of people, lots of business opportunities and trade, and of course, lots of people who spend money." I kept my head down, wringing my hands incessantly. I knew that in front of Veronalara, I had written greed all over my face. But that's the nature of Goblins. I didn't care about her opinion; I only cared whether what she said was true.

"Greenskins are definitely no decent creatures!" She wanted to curse a few more times, but she stammered. "I must remind you, Gizzlok. Lord the Witherer doesn't mean the Forsaken want to cooperate with you, but rather..."

"Joining you, I know, I know... Of course I'm willing!" My words seemed to shock her, and she stood there stunned for a while before she could react.

"A sly fox born for money!" she said, her eyes gleaming with smugness. "To join us, we need you to meet a few conditions."

"Contracts and agreements? I know, every business deal has these damn terms and conditions."

"It's different." She shook her head. "Violating the treaty will at most cost you money, but if you violate any of the conditions I mentioned, you will only die."

It was truly chilling. I outwardly appeared terrified, but inwardly I was mocking Veronalara. Death is nothing compared to gold!

"The first condition: Wherever you are, except in the Forsaken's territory, you must not mention the Forsaken or anything related to Forsaken!"

"Can't disclose customer privacy? That's easy! I'll shut up."

"The second condition is that you cannot leave the Forsaken until you die!"

"A lifetime contract? That would require a very high salary in the contract. However, given your career prospects, I can agree to that."

"The third condition is that you must always remember that you are serving Lord the Witherer, and you cannot conceal anything from him because of personal desires!"

I don't like these terms because if I don't get paid enough, I'll find ways to make money elsewhere. I seriously doubt that the Witherer Veronalara mentioned—who is also my boss—will be able to pay me enough.

"I'm only working for him? Or is it the same issue... about the price?"

"I can tell you very clearly." She bent down, as if what she was about to say was very intriguing. And indeed it was. "Maraudon is just the first place the Forsaken taken over. There will be countless Maraudon in the future, and countless transformation projects!"

"It seems there are no other shareholders. I agree to the third condition."

I saw Veronalara's lips twitch slightly; she seemed quite impressed with my ability to frame each condition as part of a contract.

Is there a written contract?

"No, you just need to remember that if you violate any of the above conditions, you will die."

"I remember, I remember." I smiled. I really did remember, but Veronalara was clearly doubting whether I really did.

Just then, I saw her open the cage.

"I need an assistant."

After being released from the cage, my first request was not a delicious meal or a comfortable office, but an assistant.

I already have someone in mind.

The Elf lady's expression shifted from surprise to a smile. I grinned, a smile even more exaggerated than that of a crocodile in Dusty Swamp.

"Who would you like to have as your assistant?"

"Him!" I pointed to the Abomination. Veronalara looked even more surprised than before.

"I thought you would find a smarter guy."

"My assistant only needs to meet two conditions: one is to be obedient, and the other is to be strong."

I admire my choice, for none of the Forsaken possess the strength of Abomination. Veronalara nodded in agreement, and I believed she would.

She gave me a title: Chief Engineer of the Forsaken, which sounded pretty good. She also told me that I was the first survivor to join the Forsaken.

Whatever, let me turn Maraudon upside down.