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Translator: AnubisTL
The first rays of dawn pierced through the clouds.
Led by Grand Artificer Scott and four goblin elders, the alchemical legion surged across the land like a steel flood.
As one of the Four Great Tribes that had emerged victorious from the Frontierlands' brutal clan wars, their deep reserves of military power were now on full display.
The vanguard consisted of flesh ripper golems, the most numerous type in the legion. Each step shook the earth. Behind them marched steel rippers, Earth-Rending Furies, and other advanced modelsβelite golems deployed in smaller numbers.
Mechanical beasts, each armed with a massive alchemical heavy cannon, lumbered forward with ponderous strides.
Grand Artificer Scott stood atop one of these mechanical beasts.
As the Gold Tooth Tribe's highest-ranking alchemist, his mastery of alchemy, while not considered top-tier even in the Southern Federation, still earned him considerable acclaim.
Now over two hundred years old, Scott was practically an ancient monster among goblins, whose average lifespan was eighty years. Yet his appearance showed no signs of aging; he still looked like a young, vigorous goblin.
Unlike other goblins with their exaggerated facial expressions, Scott's face remained as impassive as a mask. This unnatural composure, combined with his extraordinary longevity, had long cemented his status as a 'legendary' figure in the eyes of his tribe.
When Scott was born, the Gold Tooth Tribe had already discovered the black oilfield, securing the resources for their rise. However, lacking a deep foundation of power, they could only proceed cautiously, concealing their progress and developing slowly. At that time, the Gold Tooth Clan resembled a beggar clutching a gold nugget, both ecstatic about their sudden windfall and terrified of attracting the envy of stronger neighbors.
Unlike other goblins, Scott developed an obsessive interest in alchemy as he gradually came to understand the world.
He yearned to know the composition of stones, to understand how metals could move, and to unravel the fundamental nature of the universe. He had countless questions, an insatiable curiosity.
Driven by his thirst for knowledge and innate talent, Scott inevitably became an alchemist. He advanced rapidly in rank, acting decisively and immediately putting his ideas into practice. Given enough time and materials, even crafting a mecha by hand was within his capabilities. He soon rose to become the leader of the Gold Tooth Clan.
After discovering the vastness of the world, he once wondered if he had been born into the goblin kingdom of the Lothurn Federation, he might have achieved an even greater future.
Becoming a true legendary figure wouldn't have been impossible.
Yet Scott ultimately chose not to abandon the Gold Tooth Clan.
Leading a weak clan in the Frontierlands to prosperity and glory, step by step, was no less a legendary feat. Scott resolved to guide the Gold Tooth Clan through every obstacle.
At the time, the Gold Tooth Clan was weak, afraid to reveal the existence of black oil, and even hesitant to mine it.
As a high-level alchemist, Scott could craft mecha by hand, but the process was time-consuming and impossible to mass-produce, making it an unreliable foundation for the clan's strength.
Desperate, Scott ruthlessly crushed all resistance.
He nearly exhausted the clan's entire savings, purchasing yellowed mecha blueprints and a rusty, outdated flesh ripper from merchants.
Working day and night, he gradually deciphered the flesh ripper's entire structure.
After another year, the first flesh ripper production line was established under his leadership.
From then on, the furnaces in the workshops never went cold.
The Gold Tooth Clan finally possessed a reliable arsenal.
Slowly but surely, mech golems began to emerge.
Under Scott's meticulous guidance and instruction, goblin alchemists sprang up like mushrooms after a rain.
The Gold Tooth Clan gradually evolved into the Gold Tooth Tribe. Even the serpentmen, their natural predators, gradually ceased their reckless hunting and devouring of goblins.
As for Scott, he had originally reached the end of his lifespan, a frail and dying old man.
After a period of seclusion, he had miraculously revived, reborn in the prime of youth. The exact details of this transformation remained a mystery to the other goblins.
The tribe's alchemists whispered among themselves.
Some claimed he had transformed himself into a perfect humanoid construct, while others swore they had seen him drink a longevity potion distilled from black oil. But all speculation ceased under Scott's cold gaze.
At this very moment, bathed in the first rays of dawn, Scott stared toward the approaching southwestern border, his face still devoid of expression.
As time passed, the legion crossed the border.
The Ironforged Tribe's border outposts bore the brunt of the assault.
A forward outpost garrisoned by hyena-men and kobolds was the first to taste the alchemical legion's fury. Mech golem artillery shattered the watchtower, while chainsaw swords tore through the frail flesh of the defenders.
The steel tide rolled over the outpost, advancing steadily toward the Fertile Plains.
Along the way, the alchemical legion faced numerous harassing attacks from the Ironforged Tribe, but these proved inconsequential. Every attacking monster was crushed by mech golems and alchemical heavy cannons.
Steel ground their mangled remains into bloody pulp.
The Gold Tooth Tribe's legion shattered defensive lines one after another, their banners soon appearing on the edge of the Fertile Plains.
The massive legion marched with thunderous force. The Ironforged Tribe's defenders were already arrayed in battle formation across the Fertile Plains, juvenile dragons and wyvern flocks circling overhead. On the ground, a legion composed of centaurs, ogres, hyena-men, kobolds, graymane werewolves, and other creatures stood ready.
"Attack!"
The grand artificer coldly issued the command.
Under the midday sun, the iron armor grew scorching hot as the Gold Tooth Tribe's steel tide surged toward the Ironforged Tribe's defenses. iron golem advanced in perfect unison, each step shaking the ground.
Simultaneously, the voices of the golem operator boomed through amplifiers.
The goblin warriors, coordinating their advance around the golems, joined the chant:
The furnace is our temple, the wrench our scepter of prayer!
Black oil boils in our veins, gears sing in our chests!
Crush those fleshy bodies!
When rust stains the earth red, civilization will truly flourish!
The goblins' voices were harsh, shrill, grating, and chaotic, lacking any semblance of harmony. Some screeched like steel nails scraping glass, others rasped like grindstones sharpening scrap iron. Yet, strangely, their cacophony wove into a surging wave across the battlefield, synchronized with the alchemy golems' heavy strides and the engines' roar, gradually building into an overwhelming sense of dread.
Gold coins! Gold coins! Pave the path to heaven!
Dismantle everything! Dismantle everything! Even the gods' ribs have price tags!
Today we write poetry with cannon shells, tomorrow we forge steel in enemy camps!
The grand artificer's smile is the dawn of a new world!
The goblins sang at the top of their lungs, their bodies trembling slightly, their eyes shining with excitement, their morale higher than ever.
"They're no ordinary goblins," Garos murmured, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Their morale is astonishing." He thought to himself that the Ironforged Tribe also needed a war song.
"We could win a direct confrontation with the Gold Tooth Tribe's alchemical legion, but the losses would be catastrophic."
"Fortunately, we've already prepared for this."
Iron Dragon Solgorn's voice echoed directly in Garos's mind through their mind link.
Then, the battle began.
(End of the Chapter)
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