Somewhere deep in an untrodden corner of Quel’thalas stood a duo with serious expressions. One was standing on a protruding rock, reaching out into the great expanse as if seeking some communion with nature, while the other waited below for him to finish whatever he was doing. A couple of hours went by like that, during which several horrifying creatures came darting out of the woods, charging at him atop the rock only to undergo a disturbing fate that could only be interpreted as them being absorbed.

  “Goblin, are you sure we haven’t lost him?” Licht asked as he sat by the small camp he had swiftly set up, speaking as soon as his fellow Dungeon Master finished absorbing the creature he himself had unleashed earlier.

  “It’s a her, not a him," Lee said. "And I haven’t lost her.”

  “I mean, it’s alright if you did. We could always go for something else.”

  “I said I haven’t lost track of it, and I mean it. My babies have her smell pinned. We’re on the right track.”

  Licht glanced at the silver-haired elf with a face that tried not to show what he truly felt. It had been three months since they began tracking that monster, or at least since the tracking began taking so long that even Maelle gave up on them. It had been a few weeks since he last saw her in the sky.

  “Are you doubting my babies’ tracking ability, Honey?”

  Knowing better than to start an argument with this psycho, especially on that topic, Licht was quick to deny it. “Not at all. It’s just that… let’s say I’ve grown bored of this chase. I’m sure you get that.”

  “Remind me, who are we doing this for?”

  “For me, yes. And that’s why I’m concerned. We may have spent too much time and effort tracking this thing for experience, when we could have gained just as much by sticking to our usual ways. I’m beginning to question whether this chase was worth it.”

  “It’s going to be worth it,” Goblin declared.

  “You sound sure of yourself.”

  “Are you questioning the words of my babies? Because they’re categorical. She is strong. If you fight her alone, I guarantee you a challenging fight.”

  “I see.” Considering the first half of that sentence, Licht quickly shifted the subject. “Now that I think about it, I’ve always been curious. How does it work?”

  “What?”

  “I’m talking about the communication between you and your babies.”

  “Are you asking how it works for me in particular, or how communication with monsters works in general?”

  “Both, actually. Since it’s different, right?”

  He nodded. “Let’s see. For those with the right disposition for it, whether through an ability or just an innate characteristic like beastkin, the communication is less about speaking, as it is for sentient species, and more about interpreting.”

  Licht’s distraction seemed to do exactly what he intended, as Goblin continued to explain. “As I’m sure you know, monsters, just like animals, don’t have a language of their own. So they don’t speak. But while they don’t, that doesn’t mean they can’t achieve the bare minimum of what speech does, which is transmitting intent. Those with the right disposition can attune to that and interpret it, which I guess is similar to telepathy.”

  “I see…” Though it was a distraction, Licht was genuinely interested in the subject. “Doesn’t this remind you of a movie?”

  “Yeah, I think I know which movie you’re talking about… I think. But I can’t remember the title.”

  “We should ask Dungeon Master 00 or Dungeon Master 08. If one of us can remember, it’s them.”

  “Yeah, but unlike in that movie, where telepathy works with monsters the same way speech works with humans, reality is nowhere near that convenient.”

  “I figured, yeah.”

  “I can read intent, but for me to read it, it has to be emitted first.” He continued. “Every living thing gives off intent, but each has a different shape or tone. I’m not quite sure what the right term would be, but you get the idea. A cicada, for instance, only has instinctual intent—the drive to sing, mate, or flee. It’s raw and one-dimensional, more like noise than thought. A dog, however, has emotive intent. It can want, fear, love, or obey. It’s still simple, but it carries emotion, and that makes it clearer. A creature like wyvern, though, has conceptual intent. It doesn’t just feel; it thinks to a certain extent. It can recognize territory, hierarchy, even strategy. When one of those speaks without words, you can sense not just hunger or anger but the reasoning behind it. That’s when intent starts to sound like language, even without words. This is why…”

  “This is why they, just like Maelle, are able to understand what we say even though they don’t speak the language.”

  Goblin nodded in confirmation. “Though with how far she has evolved since her wyvern days, I’d say she’s reached a level where she is beyond just interpreting the intent we emit. Because even with speech, humans, elves, and beastkin all give intent. A very expressive one, in fact.”

  “I see,” Licht said, nodding. “When interacting with monsters, particularly mythical beasts like Gaelle or Aquaflora’s Mian, and I’ve been questioning the system’s categorisation of them.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  “How they’re not considered sentient?”

  “Yes.”

  “With Frank around, Ma’am was forced to consider it, since he was very much sentient and sapient,” Goblin explain. “Not as much as White, but almost, at least as much as his disposition allowed White to be sentient and sapient.”

  Frank was a name Licht had heard countless times. Even though it had been decades since his death, that alone spoke to how precious the being had been. To Licht, Frank? previously Pink, was his first bonded creature. To Bortz, Luci, and Blondie, he was family. And to White, the once tropical wyrmling, he had been kin.

  “Ma’am firmly believes that the system categorising monsters as non-sentient isn’t about the presence or absence of sentience but something else entirely.”

  “Such as?”

  “Their humanity. Or humanoidity, if that’s even a word. She believes—have you noticed that every sentient species can interbreed with the others with relatively few issues, and all the offspring qualify as humanoid?”

  “I’ve noticed that pattern.”

  “That’s one proof. But another undeniable one comes from one of our humanoid cousins—the therians. The process through which a therian becomes a Primogenitor, which is what they call their monarch, is called a ritual. There are many different kinds of rituals, each with different results. One such result is the therian evolving into something the system does not qualify as sentient.”

  “A monster.”

  "Typically a mythical beast related to the therian’s tribe," Goblin pointed in agreement. “ The monarch can become a monster, through and through, permanently. It can thus be interpreted, at the very least, that by giving up their ability to maintain a humanoid form, they lose their status as sentient beings. Now, the opposite is also possible.”

  “The opposite?”

  “Yes. A ritual that transforms a monster into a sentient being, turning a mythical beast into a therian monarch. Guess what the result of that ritual is.”

  "The acquisition of speech?"

  "And?"

  “The acquisition of a humanoid form?”

  “Correct.”

  “… I’ve never heard of something like that.”

  “Oh, it exists. If you were a therian child, you’d have heard children’s tales about it. They have rituals that do exactly that. Some tribes even revere or outright worship certain categories of monsters because one had once been their guardian in some way.”

  “So you’re telling me it would be possible for being like Gaelle to undergo such a ritual and gain a humanoid form?”

  “We had such a plan for White. Finding components for that ritual is something Bortz and Blondie still consider one of their main quests in therian lands, other than looking for the authority we believe is somewhere in Therian lands."

  “I see… That's interesting.”

  Goblin raised an eyebrow at him. “You want to give Maelle a humanoid form?”

  “I can’t pretend I’m not interested in the idea. Unlike you and Bortz, I can’t interpret intent. If anything, I’m the one being interpreted by her, as you said. So if she could speak…”

  When she growled or hissed, he could only try, pretend, to understand. Things would be easier if he could acquire the ability, but it was one of those abilities humans didn’t have much likelihood of obtaining. Perhaps with the right class, like druid, he might have, but he was the furthest thing from a druid, so there was no saving him on that aspect.

  “Can’t pretend I don’t understand,” Goblin said. “Not everyone is as lucky as I am to be connected to another being the way I am to my babies.”

  “You mentioned it being different. How so?”

  “You said it yourself: different,” he replied, wearing that habitual boasting expression. “My relationship with my bonded creatures is unique in the sense that it isn’t just a bond, like it is for elves with my class, and it isn’t just control like the Argyrian Patriarch had. It’s a little of both.”

  He brought his hands together, interlocking his fingers. “Thanks to my predisposition and my ability to use the power of assimilation, I can do more than bond with a creature. I can invest a part of myself into one of them.”

  He raised both index fingers from the interlocked form. “Doing so, I create something that is practically another me.”

  “A clone…”

  “Not exactly,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s more like an extension of myself. Another limb, maybe, but one I don’t directly control. It acts through the will I leave within it. The intent I impart when I invest that fragment carries enough of me for it to move on its own, but it always acts in line with my nature. It’s autonomous, but only in ways that reflect what I would do.”

  “I see,” Licht said after a moment, his curiosity sharpening. “And what about you? What does that kind of investment do to you?”

  Goblin tilted his head. “You asking because you’re worried something might be missing in me?”

  Licht gave a half-smile. “Maybe.”

  Goblin chuckled, a low sound rumbling from his chest. “Don’t worry, Honey. I’m fine. I told you, they’re not clones, but I’m not carving pieces off myself either. Not when it comes to monsters, at least.”

  Licht nodded slowly, then paused as the implication settled. “ All your ‘babies’ are monsters, aren’t they?”

  “Exactly.”

  “I take it things change when it’s a sentient being?”

  “Very much so,” the goblin replied, voice turning serious. “That’s why I’d never—” He cut himself off, then corrected, “I’d avoid doing with a sentient being what I do with my babies.”

  “Oh... tell me more about it.”

  ***

  After three weeks and five long days of pursuit, they finally caught sight of their target.In the gloom of a starless night, the patch of forest ahead breathed with dark mist. From it emerged a pack of wolf-like beasts, each one massive enough to dwarf a small mansion. Their eyes burned gold through the black haze clinging to their fur, making their forms stand out even in the heavy dark. Abyssal Warglords.

  Yet even those towering creatures seemed small beside what led them. The leader stepped forward, its presence bending the air around it. Its hide was darker than the others, streaked with faint crimson lines that pulsed like veins of magma. Its eyes were not gold but a deep, seething red that seemed to look straight through the world itself. The difference was undeniable.

  “That’s—”

  “Yep,” the goblin said, a crooked grin spreading across his face. “A whole ass Nocthral, a prime at that. Told you my babies were on the trail. You were just too impatient to let them work.”

  “It seems so.”

  “Alright, as agreed, the Nocthral’s yours. Unless you need a hand. This one’s stronger than expected, I’ll admit.”

  He shook his head, gaze fixed on the red-eyed beast. “No. She’s mine.” He hesitated for a heartbeat, then added, “Though I’ll take a favor. Handle the Warglords.”

  “Consider it done,” the goblin replied. He pressed his palm to the earth, more for dramatic effect than actual necessity, and a gigantic golden ethereal tree erupted upward, then collapsed in on itself, sweeping inward in a controlled surge, sparing the trees, the rock, Licht and the Nocthral. The maneuver cleanly separated the golden-eyed pack from their leader.

  Licht stepped forward, drawing Trouble, his loyal blade. The red metal shimmered, mirroring the glow in the creature’s eyes. The air around the blade rippled as though recognizing the presence before it as a worthy challenge.

  Fearless, the Nocthral lowered its head, smoke rolling from its body like a living storm. Goblin had been right: the creature was far stronger than what he had expected to find. But that was exactly what he needed to level up, and to push that skill forward. A real challenge.

  He exhaled once, steady and calm. “Let’s begin.”