My Goblin System : Levelling up with my SSS Class Devouring skill Chapter 342

Yet when he arrived, all he saw was a destroyed building. There was no sign of Richard, nor anyone Richard had been fighting. It was as if their presence had completely vanished.

Chronus felt sothing was wrong because the only one who knew the secret about his connection with Richard.

"rc Assault." The na ca unbidden. "Richard had been suspicious. Said the assassin might be working against us. Said he couldn’t be trusted."

Chronus’s temporal perception scanned the residual energy, trying to piece together what had happened.

Shadow magic. Void energy. Dragon fire. Nightmare realm manipulation.

"Could rc Assault have developed these abilities? He was legendary. The best assassin in the demon realm." Chronus’s fists clenched. "What if Richard was right? What if he turned traitor and—"

But sothing didn’t fit.

rc Assault had been dead for months. And even if he’d sohow faked his death, this level of power—the devastation here suggested soone operating at near-demon-lord capacity.

No assassin, no matter how skilled, could reach this level without support. Without backing.

Without a demon lord sponsor.

And there was only one demon lord who hated Chronus enough to orchestrate sothing like this.

"Loki."

The na tasted like poison.

It made sense now. Terrible, perfect sense.

"He’s been building his monster alliance for months. Supporting the weak. Undermining demon lord authority." Chronus’s voice was rising. "And now he sends one of his agents—so monster he’s trained, so creature he’s empowered—to kill my champion?"

The aging effect spread farther, faster.

"Richard suspected treachery. He was right. But it wasn’t rc Assault acting alone." Chronus laughed bitterly. "It was Loki. Using his resources. His connections. His demon lord power to create an assassin strong enough to kill Richard."

Temporal energy erupted from his body.

"LOKI!" The shout echoed across dinsions. "YOU DARE?! YOU DARE KILL MY OTHER HALF?!"

The library aged centuries in seconds. Stone crumbled to sand. tal rusted to nothing.

But that wasn’t enough.

"This city." Chronus’s voice dropped to sothing deadly quiet. "This city harbored Loki’s assassin. Allowed my champion to be murdered on their soil. They chose sides."

He raised both hands, temporal magic gathering with catastrophic intensity.

"They chose wrong."

"TEMPORAL DEVASTATION—ENTROPY CASCADE!"

Ti went berserk throughout Valstrath.

Everything aged simultaneously. Buildings that had stood for generations crumbled. Roads turned to gravel, then powder. Trees withered and died in seconds.

People caught in the effect aged past natural limits. The young beca old. The old beca dust.

Screams filled the air—brief, cut short as vocal cords aged and failed.

In sixty seconds, Valstrath went from thriving city to ancient ruins.

In another sixty, the ruins beca rubble.

In another sixty, the rubble beca dust.

An entire city. Tens of thousands of lives. Centuries of history.

Erased.

Chronus stood in the center of the wasteland, the only thing unchanged.

"This is your doing, Loki." His voice carried across dinsions. "Your agent. Your assassin. Your plot to weaken the Second Seat."

Another portal began forming, this one leading to the demon lord council chambers.

"You wanted war? You wanted to challenge the established order?" Chronus stepped toward the gateway. "You’ve got it. I’m coming for everything you’ve built. Every monster you’ve allied with. Every piece of your pathetic rebellion."

He paused at the portal’s edge, looking back at the dust that had been a city.

"Richard’s death will be avenged a thousand tis over. And when I’m done with you, Tenth Seat, there won’t be enough left to rember you ever existed."

The Ti Lord stepped through.

The portal closed.

Silence fell over the wasteland that had been Valstrath.

—------------------------------

Satou moved through the forest at a asured pace, careful not to jostle his unconscious companions too much. Sylvara was still bleeding from the deep wound in her side—the cut that had cracked her ribs during the fight with the hunters. Cassius was pale even by vampire standards, his blood magic reserves completely depleted.

They’d been traveling for six hours since escaping Valstrath. Six hours of steady movent through increasingly dense woods, putting as much distance as possible between themselves and whatever wrath Chronus would unleash.

Through the partial soul-bond he’d gained from devouring Richard, Satou could still sense the Ti Lord’s rage burning like a distant star. But the connection was growing fainter with distance, and more importantly, Chronus’s attention seed to be directed elsewhere—not searching for them but focused on sothing else entirely.

Good. Whatever he’s doing, as long as it’s not hunting us.

But Satou’s imdiate problem wasn’t the demon lord. It was his companions.

Sylvara’s breathing was becoming more labored. The wound in her side wasn’t healing properly—infection setting in despite her body’s natural resistance. Without treatnt, she’d be in serious trouble within a day.

Cassius was in slightly better shape, but vampire regeneration required blood, and he’d exhausted himself completely in the fight. He needed proper rest.

Need to find shelter. Can’t keep moving like this.

As if answering his unspoken need, Satou’s enhanced perception caught sothing through the trees—light. Not the cold illumination of moon or stars, but warm light. Firelight. Coming from what looked like a small structure about a quarter mile ahead.

He approached cautiously, every sense on alert.

Through the trees, a small wooden hut ca into view. Simple construction, well-maintained, smoke rising from a chimney. A vegetable garden to one side. Firewood stacked neatly under an overhang.

Soone lived here. Far from any city or town, deep in the woods where most people wouldn’t venture.

Satou crept closer, staying in the shadows, his Enhanced Perception and Dark Vision letting him see inside through the windows.

An elderly couple. Human. The man was reading by firelight, gray hair and weathered face suggesting he was in his seventies. The woman was preparing sothing at a table—herbs and plants, organizing them carefully. A healer’s work.

Humans.

Satou’s first instinct was to turn around and keep moving. Humans hated goblins. That was a fundantal truth of the world. Humans saw goblins as monsters, as pests, as things to be exterminated on sight.