Renegade's Dominion

No sooner had Ty asked for the elder Goblin's presence that the old creature came hurrying out from one of the active construction sites. Apparently, he was supervising the ongoing development, lending his wisdom and insight to areas in need of guidance.

"You summoned me, oh great one," the elder Goblin said, scurrying to meet Ty with unfiltered eagerness.

"Yes, I—" Ty stopped mid-sentence and sighed. The fatigue settled on his shoulders, and he hadn't even gotten far into the conversation. The elder Goblin, despite his loyalty, was already proving to be a handful. "Yes. I did."

There was no use complaining. Ty had signed up for this, fully aware of what it entailed. He knew the burden he'd taken on when he stepped into this role.

"I wanted to speak to you about something that's been nagging at me lately," he said, trying to keep his tone composed.

"Please, great one, whatever troubles your divine mind, do not hesitate to share it with me. I shall offer every ounce of knowledge I possess in service to you."

Listening to the elder's reverent tone, Ty couldn't shake the strange feeling that if he asked the Goblin to sever his limbs for him, he might just do it with a smile.

"I've noticed I don't see much of the others around anymore…" Ty said, shifting the topic abruptly to cut through the rising tension.

"They're out hunting, oh great one."

"Hunting?" Ty echoed, eyebrows furrowing in disbelief.

The notion stunned him. Goblins were known to be among the weakest creatures in the ecosystem. Their survival often hinged more on caution than courage. Comparing a Goblin to a Blumund Wolf, for instance, was like matching a paper sword against steel.

Taking down even a single Blumund Wolf required at least ten trained Goblins, each with a specific combat role, an archer, a shielder, a vanguard, a trapper, and so on. Despite the numbers, casualties were often unavoidable.

And the irony? Blumund Wolves weren't even that high on the food chain. They were only marginally stronger than Goblins. That alone said a lot about how dangerous the Savannah truly were.

Yet despite that grim reality, the wolves, particularly Kaiden, had never returned from a hunt injured or empty-handed. Every day, they brought in a fresh kill. Kaiden, especially, always hunted alone.

'Have they grown stronger because of me?' Ty pondered, but he quickly dismissed the idea. There wasn't enough evidence to draw a solid conclusion, and Ty wasn't one to dwell on questions without immediate answers. If something couldn't be understood quickly, he filed it under not worth the headache.

Where others might see a chance for greater insight, Ty saw mental clutter.

"You've given us shelter and protection, oh great one," the elder said with a low bow. "To demand that you also provide us with sustenance would be disgraceful. We may be weak, but we still possess our pride."

Ty almost applauded the Goblin's reasoning, but he caught himself. The sentiment was admirable, yes, but it didn't ease his concern.

"Is it safe, though?" he asked.

Taking responsibility for themselves was commendable, but not at the cost of their lives. The wolves brought in more meat than Ty could finish in a week. There was no need for anyone else to risk themselves when abundance was already present.

He wouldn't tolerate a situation where half the Goblins were lost just to put food on the table.

"They hunt alongside the wolves, oh great one," the elder clarified. "You need not fear for their well-being."

"I-Is that so?" Ty replied, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "Good. That's... good."

If the wolves were doing the actual hunting while the Goblins helped carry the load, it would certainly increase efficiency. The wolves could range farther and faster, unburdened by cargo, while the Goblins played support. That arrangement Ty could live with.

"I actually called you here to speak about something that's been bothering me a great deal."

"Please, oh great one, speak freely."

Even with the elder's sincere encouragement, Ty hesitated.

"Why do you call me that?" he asked suddenly, his voice low but firm.

His expression was serious, free of sarcasm, free of humor. The elder saw it instantly and straightened, recognizing that Ty wasn't in the mood for flattery.

"Because of your overwhelming aura, oh great one," the Goblin replied, mirroring Ty's seriousness.

"My... aura?"

Ty was caught off guard. He hadn't even known he had one. Not after the verbal demolition he had faced from the Goddess who condemned him for having none of it is what this Elder here is claiming he does have one.

"Yes, great one. We monsters perceive more than what appears on the surface. Regardless of form or disguise, we can see aura. Through it, we understand the magnitude of power someone possesses."

Ty blinked. Was this the same aura Lyssera had condemned him for letting run wild?

"Your aura drives off even the most ferocious beasts. It signals that their power is insignificant when compared to yours. I suspect you are no ordinary being. You may be a Unique monster... though I dare not assume too much about your brilliance."

As the elder continued, Ty's thoughts spiraled into confusion.

'What the hell is he talking about...?'

And yet, strangely enough, the explanation matched recent events. It explained why their hunting parties never encountered threats. Why the deeper areas of the forest felt eerily quiet.

But... a Unique monster?

'I'm human, damn it!' Ty groaned internally, disheartened by the mistaken identity.

Still, looking at it logically, it did line up. The mysterious voice had claimed he possessed a Unique Skill. He also had that monstrous wolf form, one that clearly surpassed even alpha-level beasts.

Maybe that was what confused them. Maybe the combination of his skill and his transformation radiated something that made him seem like a Unique monster.

Tyberius let the thought stew in his mind, a small smirk forming on his lips.

'So... that's what it is, huh? Aura of a monster. Looks like I'm scarier than I thought.'

"This aura," he said after a moment, "how do I feel it?"

If he could learn to sense it, then maybe he could learn to suppress it too. That way, he wouldn't repel every living creature within a hundred-mile radius just by standing still.