The Evolution Of A Goblin To The Peak

Chapter 1182: The land between Angels and Fallen Angels

Sergine waited outside the cave. She couldn’t hear anything from within, and even if she could, she would have moved farther away far enough not to catch a single word of their conversation.

It was clear that the dragon, Doranjan, and Eztein knew each other well. It felt as if they belonged to the same organization, and their mutual enemies were the Gluttony Army.

They were dangerous.

She could barely breathe in the presence of those Gluttony Army members, yet Eztein had killed them with ease.

Sergine was only S-rank. She hadn’t even fully solidified her mana pool, so she still had a long way to go before reaching the Shackled Realm.

She sighed. "The rumors about the Gluttony Army are half truth and half false. They didn’t come specifically to destroy our nation but to kill the dragon. And it’s over now since they all perished. I guess I’ve completed my mission."

Suddenly, she felt a presence behind her. She turned and saw Eztein standing alongside a man with draconic features. She was shocked inwardly as only higher-level monsters were capable of transforming.

"We’ll give you a ride to your school," Eztein said with a smile.

Sergine could only agree.

"Then let’s not waste any more time," Doranjan said.

Swoosh!!

Doranjan and Eztein shot into the air at high speed, bringing Sergine with them. They shielded her with their energy; the body of an S-rank expert wasn’t nearly enough to withstand the speed of beings at their level. Without their protection, she would have been reduced to ashes.

The two of them tore through the air.

Boom!!

When they arrived at the school, Sergine bid them farewell, her body trembling. Eztein and Doranjan left just as quickly as they came, not bothering with anyone. They didn’t even spare a glance at the puny nobles who had once wanted to subdue Doranjan.

There were more important matters they needed to focus on.

"Our goal is the Angel and Fallen Angel Faction..." Doranjan said.

"That’s right. I’ve heard some news, and I think Vashno is there." Eztein paused, glancing back at the school where they had dropped off Sergine. "It won’t be long before the entire continent is dragged into this."

"Yeah. I’ve heard the conflict between the Angels and Fallen Angels has escalated. There’s nothing peaceful in that land right now," Doranjan said with a nod. He then asked, "What about the others? Do you have any idea where they are?"

"Barely... Have you visited the Land of Vanko in the past few months?"

"No."

"It’s chaotic there right now. I think Franklin and Kessa stayed there for a while before they ventured out."

"Franklin and Kessa...?"

"Yes. Recently, the Land of Vanko drifted close to another territory, and now they’re fighting."

"What about Souta and Alice?"

"Sadly, there isn’t a single piece of news about them. It’s as if they vanished into thin air after that battle. I’ve been gathering information for the past few months, hoping to find at least one survivor."

Eztein and Doranjan continued their conversation as they flew. They traveled at high speed and soon arrived in the nearest large country. There, they paid a considerable amount of money to gain access to a portal.

The territory of the Angels and Fallen Angels was far too distant. Reaching it by flying alone would take an enormous amount of time, so the portal was their only practical option.

...

A few days later.

Eztein and Doranjan arrived near the territory of the Fallen Angels. The lands of the two factions were enormous, each one as vast or even larger as the entire territory of Olympus. Countless small nations were scattered across the region.

"Coming here really is a hassle..."

"Yeah. I used up all my savings. It would’ve taken us weeks if we hadn’t used the portal."

"I know."

They chatted as they gazed at the landscape before them. Mountains, forests, and rivers stretched out in their view. It looked peaceful almost as if the Fallen Angels and Angels weren’t locked in a fierce war.

They didn’t fly. Instead, they moved on foot.

Before long, Doranjan and Eztein spotted a town in the distance, nestled at the foot of a massive mountain.

They entered the town, observing their surroundings carefully. Their goal this time was to gather information.

The town was neither large nor small, with a population of about twenty thousand made up of various races. It bustled with life, merchant stalls lining the streets and people moving about in a steady flow.

Eztein and Doranjan quietly listened to the conversations around them.

"Damn... I heard the Pure Angels launched another attack. They destroyed several cities before running into Coriel."

"I think we’ll be affected soon. The scale of the battle keeps growing."

"I just hope this war ends..."

"Yeah. I’ve got nowhere else to go."

The voices were low, but nothing escaped Eztein’s and Doranjan’s perception. They heard everything, filtering out whatever seemed irrelevant.

In this way, they quickly learned a lot about the town and the surrounding region.

"Can you feel it?" Doranjan asked, glancing at Eztein.

"Yeah. There are some strong experts here, SS-rank and even SSS-rank," Eztein replied with a nod.

They already knew they had entered a Holy Land. A Holy Land was a force capable of commanding numerous high-level experts and dominating an entire region.

Even so, discovering SS-rank and SSS-rank experts within this seemingly ordinary town was far beyond their expectations.

It seemed those powerful experts were using this place as a hidden refuge, a quiet corner to heal while the world outside burned.

Eztein and Doranjan slipped into a dimly lit pub, the kind where the air hung heavy with smoke and murmured conversations. Lanterns swayed gently overhead, casting flickering shadows across weathered wooden tables. They ordered drinks and leaned in close, voices low as they pieced together what they had learned.

This land wasn’t truly part of the Holy Lands. Not yet. But it stood close, dangerously close, just a few hours’ travel from the Fallen Angels’ border. One step farther and they’d be walking into the territory of war.

Between the two Holy Lands, the world was being torn apart. That vast region, once filled with nations and cities, had become a battlefield. As the conflict escalated, its devastation rippled outward, swallowing more lives with each passing week.

Just yesterday, according to shaken witnesses, a colossal clash erupted mere tens of kilometers away. The ground trembled. The sky split. From their descriptions, it could only have been SS-rank experts tearing into each other.

"Are you sure Vashno is here?" Doranjan finally asked, his eyes narrowing, doubt creeping into his voice.

"No," Eztein said with a faint, helpless shrug. "I told you only clues."

So they stayed.

And as night settled over the town, it did not fall quiet. The streets glowed with lanternlight, merchants calling out their offers as if trying to drown out the distant thunder of war. Inns buzzed with travelers, taverns hummed with whispers, and the air carried a tense energy like everyone was waiting for something to happen.

Eztein and Doranjan watched it all in silence, the weight of the looming Holy Land pressing against the horizon.

...

Heiming Mountain.

Deep beneath its rocky spine lay an underground base carved into the earth like a hidden fortress.

A man with golden hair streaked with faint purple sat behind a heavy ironwood desk. Soft lamplight reflected off the metallic sheen of his hair as he sifted through a stack of reports. His expression was calm, too calm for the chaos written on the pages.

This man was Vashno.

Opposite him stood a tall, red-haired subordinate, shoulders stiff, waiting for his commander’s judgment.

"How many people have we lost?" Vashno asked without lifting his gaze.

"Sir... casualties have reached nearly ten thousand," the man answered quietly.

The room seemed to grow colder.

Vashno’s jaw tightened, a shadow crossing his features. For a long moment he said nothing. Then he exhaled slowly, a weary breath that carried the weight of those ten thousand souls.

"You may go."

The man bowed deeply before withdrawing, the heavy door thudding shut behind him.

Vashno remained still. Then, with deliberate calm, he set the papers aside and stood. His footsteps echoed faintly as he approached the reinforced window cut into the rock wall. Beyond it, he could see the dim expanse of the cavern, lanterns flickering, soldiers moving like ghosts through the underground corridors.

"I didn’t think... it would come to this," he murmured to himself. "So many dead. And soon... the higher beings will move."

His reflection stared back at him in the glass—tired, wary, sharpened by survival.

The past few months flashed across his mind in fragments: collapsing cities, clashing auras splitting the sky, the stench of blood, the tremor of every near-death battle. Constant struggle. No time to breathe. No room for weakness.

Battle after battle had driven him forward, forced him to grow stronger.

He had grown stronger for the past four months.