The Weakest Kobold In The Dungeon Gets A Level [Book 1 Complete] Chapter 48: Epilogue

Read chapter 48 of The Weakest Kobold In The Dungeon Gets A Level [Book 1 Complete] by KennyTheAwkwardDonut on NovelPedia.

Black stone had erupted in the middle of a copse of the giant evergreens that gave the Emberwood Forest its name. Trunks splintered and burst, sending a blast of wooden shrapnel into the surrounding trees. Mor had managed to stay hidden from beasts, adventurers, and sentient shadows, but not from the eyes of the tower. It called to her now, offering power. It was tempting to abandon her pursuit of the kobold in exchange for that promise, but the adventurers had heard it too. They spoke amongst themselves, and no doubt had taken that information back to their leader. He would come seeking that power, and she would be here waiting. * * * Great walls of stone ran the perimeter of Frostwind Keep. Three-story buildings of wood, metal, and stone blocked out a not insignificant portion of the skyline. Along the main thoroughfare, a series of buildings stood tall over the surrounding structures. Iron wrought fences separated gardens, and banners waved along the rooftops of each of the evenly spaced properties. The guildhalls of the Kyraneth based adventurers were a symbol of pride for those lucky enough to call one of them home. One of them in particular was home to an ambitious young leader. “We still can’t log out, and more people still log in every day,” said the squat gnome at the end of the table. Her voice almost crooned as she spoke to her guildmates. “With death hanging around every corner, the newbs need someone to turn to, and that could be us. Here's what I'm proposing: we claim one of the new towers, swell our ranks, and then push to outpace the SilverSables, RighteousBlades and HellfireHuntsman guilds.” “Easier said than done. Why is everyone refusing to talk about the rumors?” asked a tenor voiced elf with short gray hair as he slammed his fist down on the table. “Because they’re unconfirmed, Wraith. We can’t bow to rumors unless we want to miss out on this opportunity and end up as the losers,” she replied. Standing from her seat and placing both hands on the table, she continued, “Unless you are afraid of the dark.” Wraith’s breathing sped its pace, and his frown deepened as he raised his voice. “You know full well that the rumors go beyond that. A great winged beast that steals the light. Whole parties and even some of the smaller guilds have vanished entirely!” The gnome lowered her voice in response. “I refuse to yield. We must continue to fight on or we will all die here anyway. No, my friend. I’m sorry, but we have to move forward as planned.” * * * Mirrors lined the walls of a room that was otherwise empty, save for the few tapestries and racks of weaponry that had been dusted and polished. A figure flickered into existence only to be cut down by a dagger that flashed across the room. Another humanoid shape appeared followed by a second, only for both to be struck down. Cloaked in the colors of his court, the Onyx King of Mirrors strode to the center of the room. Varos crouched into a fighting stance as he was surrounded by five men, each identical to himself in every way. They swept in on him like a vortex. The king blocked the first as he spun around the duplicate’s outstretched arm, sending it into the circle and removing himself from it simultaneously. From there he made quick work of his mirror-clones, dispatching them one after the other until only he remained. Bringing a hand to his forehead, he brushed away the blond curls that clung to his sweat-dampened brow. A knock at the door was followed by a servant announcing the arrival of his legionaries, and the royal mages. “You called upon the court, your highness?” asked the wizened man who was the leader of his casters. “Summon the bonfire and prepare for rapid departure,” he ordered. With a bow, the old man ran through a series of gestures before a large fire burst into life at the center of the room. Through the waist high flames strode a gray-skinned figure with too-wide shoulders, whose intimidating frame dwarfed that of even Varos. A crimso