Ignoring the goblin's terrified gaze and futile struggles, Sagres gently touched the tip of his wand to its forehead.
Legilimency activated instantly.
Ignoring the goblin's frantic mental resistance, Sagres forcibly sifted through its memories.
A goblin's mind was far more complex than a giant's, filled with greed for wealth and fragments of various metal-forging techniques.
Sagres skimmed through them quickly, discarding the useless information and focusing on the location of Echo City, its defences, and the reason the goblins were provoking conflict between giants and wizards.
Unexpectedly, he found something else.
In one memory, several cloaked goblins were secretly trading with humans dressed in Church attire, handing over glowing magical objects.
In another, the outline of Durmstrang appeared and disappeared through a snowstorm while goblin emissaries moved covertly through the surrounding region, spreading rumours and stirring up local factions.
That ancient school of magic had already been thrown into crisis by their schemes.
"Heh..."
Sagres sneered inwardly.
He had originally thought this was merely a simple conflict of interests, but he had not expected the goblins' influence to extend so much farther than he imagined.
Yet he clearly remembered that there had been no goblin rebellion in the fifteenth century...
Setting these complicated matters aside for the moment, Sagres returned his attention to the goblin before him.
"In return for helping you cleanse your sins, I require some appropriate compensation."
A faint light flashed from the wand pressed against its forehead, and the goblin's eyes suddenly widened.
"No! What are you doing?!"
The goblin leader let out a shriek like a slaughtered pig, its body convulsing violently.
Fine strands of silver-glowing magic were drawn from its body like nerves being forcibly torn free, slowly flowing through the wand and into Sagres.
The goblin visibly withered. Its skin lost its lustre, its eyes became vacant, and eventually it collapsed limply into the mud.
Only the faint rise and fall of its chest showed that it was still alive.
"Demon! You... power-stealing demon!"
"The Stone King will not let you go!"
"Please... spare us... we'll give you all our treasures..."
Sagres ignored the goblins' cries.
He lowered his head and examined the cluster of goblin magic gathered in his palm, raising an eyebrow slightly.
The total amount was nearly half that of an adult wizard's, but it was considerably more active and differed slightly from wizarding magic.
He did not pause.
Instead, he stepped towards the next trapped goblin.
"Stay away! Don't come near me, demon!"
"Let me go, wizard! I have many treasures!"
"Please... spare me..."
Pleading, cursing, and threats did nothing to slow him.
Like a calm machine, Sagres extracted the magic from the goblins one by one, leaving them powerless.
The sight plunged the remaining goblins into terror and despair, while the imprisoned magical creatures stared in stunned silence.
The Bowtruckles forgot to whimper and huddled against the bars of their cage, their tiny eyes opened wide.
The Veela clung tightly to each other, staring in disbelief at the black-robed wizard who seemed both like a messenger of destruction and a grim reaper carrying out judgement.
The bound centaur also stopped struggling, the anger in his eyes replaced by deep shock and wary scrutiny.
Only the gradually weakening cries of the goblins and Sagres's steady, merciless footsteps remained in the camp.
His purpose was simple: to accumulate the necessary "resources" for his return journey and, at the same time, deal with a few problems.
When the last goblin lost its magic in Sagres's hands and collapsed to the ground like a rag doll, Sagres stopped and quietly sensed the energy gathering within him.
Goblin magic was indeed unique, but the total amount...
"...Not enough," he murmured, his gaze sweeping over the goblins who had completely lost their ability to pose a threat.
He needed more "fuel".
Dark Wizards, or more goblins.
The Church's witch-hunting parties probably had similar targets among them. Captured Dark Wizards and members of the clergy would make perfect candidates for "resource recycling".
He turned and walked towards the imprisoned magical creatures.
Things here were temporarily settled, and there was no reason for these innocent creatures to continue suffering.
He first approached the metal cage containing the Bowtruckles. With a light tap of his wand, the woven metal bars fell apart.
The small creatures recoiled in fear, huddling together and not daring to come out.
"You're free. Go."
Sagres's voice was flat as he waved his wand and removed the weak magic restraining them.
The Bowtruckles hesitated for a moment.
Eventually, their desire for freedom overcame their fear. They cautiously scurried out of the cage and disappeared into the darkness of the camp.
Next, Sagres walked towards the runic iron cage holding the Veela.
A simple Alohomora caused the sturdy iron bars to twist open.
The two Veela supported each other as they stepped out. They looked at Sagres, their beautiful eyes filled with gratitude, fear, and the bewilderment of having survived such an ordeal.
"Head southeast and you'll eventually leave the Forbidden Forest. But if you want to return to Bulgaria, you'll need to cross the strait and several mountain ranges."
He paused before adding, "I suggest you go to London and seek help from the Wizarding Council."
The two Veela bowed slightly to him.
They seemed to want to say something, but in the end, they merely supported each other as they left, dragging their slightly tattered wings behind them.
Finally, Sagres approached the centaur bound in chains.
With a flick of his wand, the thick, rune-covered chains snapped apart like rotten vines.
The centaur regained his freedom.
He shook his mane and stretched his aching body before looking deeply at Sagres.
"Powerful wizard," the centaur said in a low, hoarse voice, "your strength is as unfathomable as the stars, yet your actions are as cruel as winter. You freed us, yet you devoured the 'light of life' from those goblins. What is your purpose?"
Sagres met his gaze and replied frankly, "My purpose is none of your concern. If you don't want to leave, I can kill you now."
The centaur fell silent for several seconds, clearly not expecting such a response.
"No matter where your path leads, you granted me freedom tonight. The Forbidden Forest will remember this kindness. Be careful, wizard. You are stepping into a dangerous quagmire. The goblins' thirst for vengeance is as renowned as their skill at forging."
With that, he lingered no longer.
His powerful hooves carried him gracefully into the depths of the forest.
Sagres paid him no further attention.
Instead, he turned towards the mutilated corpse of the unicorn.
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