The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort

The underground fortress was a marvel of ingenuity and relentless effort. Labyrinthine tunnels twisted and turned in every direction, reinforced with a mix of stone and the natural adhesive secreted by Chimera Ant workers. Walls glimmered faintly in the dim torchlight, their surfaces polished smooth to reduce noise from movement. The entrances were camouflaged expertly, blending into the surrounding terrain so seamlessly that even a trained tracker would have missed them. Above ground, the region appeared as untouched wilderness; below, it was a fortified stronghold.

The Skullborne Ravager stood on a makeshift platform overlooking the main cavern. His towering, big frame cast a long shadow across the goblins gathered below. Their small, green bodies bustled in chaotic motion, their guttural voices echoing in disjointed phrases. Only thirty-five goblins inhabited the fortress, their numbers laughably small compared to the size of the space they occupied. Still, their presence was not insignificant. They represented the beginnings of something greater—a community, a force.

"Kra! Kra! Food? Food soon?" one goblin squeaked, his oversized ears twitching as he waved a crude wooden club.

Another chimed in, his voice louder but no less childlike.

"Big boss! Big boss smart! Show goblins kill!"

The Ravager's hollow eyes flickered briefly as the glasses perched on his skull emitted a faint glow. Words scrolled across the lenses, feeding him real-time updates.

Task Priority: Organize goblin commune. Objective: Establish roles for efficiency. Current readiness: Low. Recommended actions: Basic training and structural hierarchy.

He adjusted the glasses with a bony claw and stepped forward, his presence commanding immediate silence. The goblins stopped their chatter, their wide eyes fixed on him. Though they spoke in fragmented phrases and moved with an almost comical lack of coordination, they responded to him with unwavering loyalty. Fear, admiration, and the faint influence of Chimera Ant pheromones ensured their obedience.

The Ravager began issuing commands, his voice a deep, guttural growl.

"Scouts. Front. Gatherers. Middle. Defenders. Rear. Hunters. Prepare."

The goblins tilted their heads in confusion, their simplistic minds struggling to process his words. The Ravager extended a claw, gesturing for them to come closer. He pointed at a small group, then mimed the act of sneaking.

"Scouts. Watch. Quiet."

Understanding dawned slowly in their wide, beady eyes. One of the goblins smacked his friend on the arm and whispered loudly, "We watch! We sneak!"

The Ravager nodded and moved to another group. He crouched, mimicking the motion of picking up objects and placing them in an invisible sack.

"Gatherers. Find. Bring back."

The goblins exchanged glances, murmuring excitedly.

"We find shiny?"
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He growled softly, shaking his head.

"Food. Wood. Useful."

The goblins' faces lit up in understanding, their excitement barely contained as they nodded vigorously.

Next, he turned to the defenders, gesturing with broad sweeps of his arms to mimic blocking attacks.

"Protect. Stop enemies."

"Big boss mean smash bad things?" one defender asked, hefting a rock in both hands.

The Ravager's clawed hand rested briefly on the goblin's head in approval. He then moved to the final group, the hunters. Taking up a crude spear from the pile of makeshift weapons nearby, he demonstrated a throwing motion.

"Hunt. Kill. Bring back."

The hunters cheered loudly, their enthusiasm infectious. They waved their own spears and slings, eager to prove themselves. The Ravager stepped back, surveying his work. Though their responses were clumsy and their movements disorganized, the goblins showed potential. They were learning.

Words scrolled across his glasses again.

Recommendation: Initiate practical exercise. Priority: Teach self-reliance through hunting.

The Ravager growled softly in agreement. It was time to teach them survival. Until now, the goblins had relied on the Chimera Ant soldiers for food. That dependency needed to end.

He raised a claw, silencing the goblins once more.

"Hunt. Today."

The goblins erupted in cheers, their high-pitched voices echoing through the cavern. The Ravager activated the glasses again, studying the map of the surrounding area. The display highlighted a dense forest teeming with prey—small game, dire boars, and shadow stags. It also marked potential dangers: rival monster packs and treacherous terrain.

He led the goblins to the armory—a small chamber stocked with rudimentary weapons crafted under his supervision. Spears, slings, and crude bows lined the walls. The Ravager inspected each weapon meticulously, ensuring they were functional despite their primitive design. He handed them out one by one, his imposing figure making the goblins handle the weapons with uncharacteristic care.

Before they departed, he stepped onto the platform again. Words scrolled rapidly across his glasses, translating his thoughts into a rousing speech. The goblins stared at him, their expressions a mix of awe and determination as his voice boomed through the chamber.

"Today, we hunt. We grow strong. Together."

The goblins erupted in cheers once more, their excitement almost palpable. With weapons in hand and spirits high, they followed the Ravager out of the fortress, marching in a chaotic but determined formation. He corrected their movements along the way, teaching them the importance of stealth and coordination.

The forest loomed ahead, its dense undergrowth casting long shadows in the fading light. The Ravager raised a claw, signaling the goblins to stop. He deployed scouts, instructing them to locate prey while avoiding unnecessary risks. Using the data from his glasses, he guided the group toward a clearing where a herd of shadow stags grazed.

The goblins crouched low, their movements awkward but earnest. The Ravager demonstrated stalking techniques, showing them how to move silently and stay downwind of their prey. He watched as they attempted to mimic his actions, their clumsiness often leading to humorous but harmless mishaps. One goblin tripped over a root, landing face-first in the dirt. Another sneezed loudly, startling a bird from a nearby bush.

Their first attempt at an ambush ended in chaos. The goblins' overeagerness spooked the herd, sending the shadow stags bounding away. The goblins groaned in disappointment, their shoulders slumping as they turned to the Ravager for guidance.

He stepped forward, his presence commanding their attention. Taking up his spear, he demonstrated patience and precision. With a single, fluid motion, he hurled the spear, striking down a stag with unerring accuracy. The goblins gasped, their eyes wide with admiration.

"See," the Ravager growled, retrieving the fallen stag.

"Patience. Precision."

The goblins nodded eagerly, their earlier failure now etched into their minds as a vivid lesson. The Ravager divided them into smaller groups with deliberate precision, assigning each a specific role for the next hunt. First, he gestured toward a group of hunters, his bony claw pointing at the tools at their feet—a mixture of crude spears and jagged-edged traps. Mimicking their movements, he demonstrated how to place bait strategically, ensuring it would lure the prey into a favorable position. The goblins mimicked his motions, some fumbling with their traps, others nodding with an air of determination.

The Ravager then motioned toward another group. With his glasses displaying detailed instructions, he drew lines on the dirt to illustrate the optimal placement for scouts and lookouts. The goblins tilted their heads, murmuring among themselves in fragmented Goblinese before scurrying to their positions. They crouched low in the bushes, their beady eyes fixed on the task at hand, their excitement palpable.

Using the bait—a mixture of forest roots and fruits—the goblins placed it near a pitfall the Ravager had ordered them to dig. The pit was lined with sharpened wooden stakes, crafted earlier under his supervision. With a sharp growl and a wave of his claw, the Ravager signaled for silence as the group waited, tense and expectant.

Minutes passed, and then the ground quivered faintly. A dire boar, its snout twitching, emerged from the undergrowth, drawn by the pungent scent of the bait. The goblins froze, their eyes wide as they watched the massive beast approach. One goblin, too eager, let out an involuntary squeak, causing the Ravager to snap his head toward the offender. A quick glare from his hollow eyes silenced the goblin instantly.

The boar moved closer, sniffing cautiously before stepping onto the trap. The moment it triggered the bait mechanism, the ground beneath it collapsed, and the beast fell into the pit. The sharpened stakes impaled its body with a sickening thud. The boar let out a final, guttural cry before going still.

A wave of silence swept over the goblins as they stared at the pit, processing their success. Then, as if on cue, they erupted into cheers, their voices rising in jubilant cacophony.

"We did it! Big boss smart! Big boss strong!" they shouted, their squeaky voices echoing through the clearing.

The Ravager stepped forward, his clawed hand raised to silence them. He gestured toward the pit, then to the goblins themselves, his guttural voice carrying a note of approval.

"Teamwork. Precision. Stronger together."

The goblins beamed with pride, their earlier blunders forgotten in the glow of their accomplishment. They clambered to retrieve the slain boar, their movements awkward but filled with determination. As they heaved the beast from the pit, their chants of victory filled the air. The Ravager watched with a faint glimmer in his eyes, pleased by their growing competence.

"Good," the Ravager said, his voice carrying a note of approval. He gestured for them to retrieve the spoils, reinforcing the importance of teamwork.

The goblins returned to the fortress with their prey, their spirits high. They paraded through the tunnels, proudly displaying their kills to the other goblins and Chimera Ant soldiers. The Ravager supervised the processing of the meat, ensuring it was stored properly in the underground larders. Portions were set aside for immediate consumption, rewarding the hunters for their efforts.

As the goblins feasted, the Ravager stood on the central platform, reviewing the data from Rodion's glasses. The report highlighted areas for improvement and suggested future training exercises. He formulated plans to further develop the goblins' skills, envisioning a future where this small band evolved into a disciplined, self-sufficient force.

The cheers of the goblins echoed through the cavern, their guttural voices chanting his name. The Ravager's skeletal frame glowed faintly in the torchlight, a symbol of power and purpose. He gazed out over his growing commune, the beginnings of something formidable.

Suddenly, a faint noise broke the rhythm of the celebration. The Ravager turned sharply, his senses heightened. The entrance to the fortress stirred, and shadows shifted ominously. From the darkness, monstrous insects began to emerge, their forms alien and threatening. The Ravager's claws tightened around his weapon as he prepared for the unexpected battle ahead.