After the Ascended Brain's loyalty value reached 180, Hel immediately removed the black trait [Empire Above All (Black)] from it.
That trait—worth a full 120 loyalty points—was practically another version of [Soul Enslavement].
If she didn't strip it away, Hel truly wouldn't have dared to keep the Ascended Brain by her side.
Otherwise, if it ever received orders from the Goblin Empire, it could easily turn against her at any time.
Thankfully, that hidden danger was eliminated early.
Only then did Hel finally let out a long sigh of relief.
But before she could even exhale completely—
Thud.
A dull crash echoed through the chamber, followed by a cloud of dust.
Hel turned sharply toward the sound, just in time to see her once-mighty Skeletal Berserker Captain collapse forward, landing flat against the stone floor.
The noise had come from its fall.
"No way… Hakikur, my strongest combat unit, and you just drop dead like that?"
Hel's heart skipped a beat. She rushed over and began examining the body.
Though the armor was battered and cracked in multiple places, the bones beneath were still intact—none missing, none shattered.
Even the elemental core within its chest was undamaged.
But its soul aura… was gone.
No—
To be precise, Hel couldn't sense even a flicker of soul presence from it anymore.
"Did its soul… vanish?"
So that was the cost of the Soul-Burning Secret Technique—it burned the user's soul completely away in exchange for power.
Hel was speechless for a moment.
Still, this wasn't too big a problem—at least not for her.
As a Death Witch, reconstructing a new soul and shoving it into a body was practically second nature.
With a Philosopher's Stone, she could craft one easily enough.
Before that, though, Hel decided her main body should take over—
after all, the undead vessel she was currently possessing was battered and completely drained of mana.
It needed to return to base for repairs.
Meanwhile, she summoned Sebas and the others.
Once everyone had gathered, she used a Philosopher's Stone to forge a brand-new soul for the Skeletal Berserker Captain, then ordered it to accompany Sebas in tracking down the Snow Elf Assassin Queen—and to clean up the battlefield while they were at it.
Only after all these tasks were settled did Hel finally have the leisure to turn her attention back to the Ascended Brain.
"Well then," she said, "now you can take your time and tell me everything.
But before that—did you transmit news of our arrival here to anyone?"
Compared to other secrets, this question was what Hel cared about most.
According to what the Snow Elf Queen had told her, this place was merely a B-class city of the Goblin Empire.
And aside from a few tier-three satellite cities, it was also connected to an A-class capital, which by imperial regulation must have a King-ranked transcendent stationed there.
"King-ranked"—meaning anyone at that level of power was worthy of being crowned ruler of a kingdom.
In fact, a nation couldn't even exist without at least one such being anchoring it.
That alone showed how rare and terrifyingly powerful they were.
Given her current strength, Hel knew it was impossible to fight one.
She'd barely managed to defeat the Ascended Brain's heavy mech by throwing in all her trump cards—
there was no way she could face something far beyond that.
Still, she had to admit—this battle had been a wake-up call.
It showed her clearly where she stood in the grand scale of power.
Without it, she might've kept deluding herself into thinking that, with her Berserker Captain's explosive might, she could actually go toe-to-toe with a King-tier being.
"Negative."
The Ascended Brain's voice echoed directly in her mind—a calm, melodic female voice.
"Based on large-scale data projections, the probability of our forces successfully halting your incursion was 89.99%.
Therefore, there was no need to initiate any emergency protocol."
"Emergency protocol?" Hel asked. "You mean calling for reinforcements?"
"No."
The neural networks inside the translucent orb pulsed with faint blue light as the Brain replied:
"Protocol One: activate the underground corridor's self-destruction system to completely sever all links between Research Base B5 and the outside world—thus minimizing the risk of other cities being discovered.
Protocol Two: activate the citywide self-destruction program—to completely erase all traces of goblin civilization."
"…Wait, what? You goblins are really that paranoid?"
Hel blinked in disbelief.
But the more she thought about it, the more it made sense.
The goblins must be in an incredibly dire situation now—barely surviving in the shadows.
After all, she'd barely found any record of them in the books of this era.
The only mention came from the discovery of an ancient goblin ruin.
Which meant that, to the surface races, the goblin underground cities were like unopened mystery chests—
brimming with danger, treasures, and lost knowledge.
Sure, goblins were troublesome opponents for lone adventurers or petty lords—
but to the three great empires, each guarded by a Saint-tier powerhouse, the goblins were nothing more than remnants of a bygone age.
To crush them would be as easy as breathing.
And indeed, the Brain confirmed Hel's guess.
"The era of the Empire ended long ago.
The Empire's remaining strength is less than one percent of what it once was—utterly insufficient to confront external threats.
Thus, for the sake of preserving what remains of our civilization… such sacrifices are necessary."
"I see…" Hel murmured, then smiled faintly.
"Well then, can you tell me more about your Goblin Empire?
I'm honestly quite interested in you lot."
"The Empire…"
The Brain paused. The network of blue neurons flickered rapidly for a few moments.
Watching the glass orb pulse with light, Hel couldn't help worrying it might crash like an overloaded server.
She was just about to change the topic when the flickering finally stabilized, and the soft luminescent signals resumed their calm pattern—tiny blue sparks dancing among the countless brains.
"It has been 129,000 years since the Age of Silence began…
Such a long, long memory indeed."
"129,000 years? Age of Silence?"
The Brain responded, its tone distant, almost nostalgic:
"According to the ancient relics our ancestors uncovered, this world completes one Great Cycle every 129,600 years.
Even we goblins do not know how many such cycles this vast land has endured.
What we do know…
is that in every era, two races are chosen—the Fated Races of that epoch."