Goblins (5)–goblin hunt.....
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There were three leading figures within the rebel force.
The highest authority—the true leader—stays on 6th floor main base.
And two branch leaders.
One was Hemel, the reliable and level-headed branch leader, known for his cautious nature.
'Well, more like scared nature!'
The other…
Was Albert.
A sixteen-year-old boy with red eyes and a perpetually furrowed brow, standing in the forest, his arms crossed, his cloak flapping slightly in the wind like he thought it was dramatic.
The sky was a masterpiece in progress—hues of orange and crimson bleeding into each other as the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows of trees that danced in the fading light.
A soft breeze rustled the green leaves above, brushing against Albert’s cheek as if nature itself was sighing in contentment.
But his expression was anything but calm.
Despite the picturesque setting, Albert’s temple twitched.
‘This bastard… Just who the hell is he?’
His crimson eyes stared at the player in front of him.
Rago.
A player who had nonchalantly claimed he would “destroy the Empire” in passing conversation—as if he was talking about doing laundry.
Albert had tagged along, if only to witness how this lunatic planned to do that.
Now, standing among a group of weak players—some skinny, some trembling, some chewing nervously on dried rations—Rago wielded a simple iron sword, looking completely unfazed by the weak team he'd assembled.
And then…
Without any grand speech or fancy battle cry, he charged.
Straight into a goblin den.
“KRREEEE!!”
“GYAK!!”
Shrill screams echoed as goblins lunged from bushes and trees with crude daggers and jagged spears.
Albert blinked. “W-Wait, is he—?!”
But before anyone could process, the absurdity began.
Rago, with a serene smile on his face, spun mid-air like a windmill and cleaved the first goblin in half—vertically.
“KRRHH—!”
Thud.
Its two halves slid apart, blood gushing like an overturned bucket.
Then came the next one—another goblin, thicker and meaner-looking.
Rago backflipped off a tree trunk, grabbed the hobgoblin by the neck mid-air, and slammed it into the ground so hard it bounced.
Then, with theatrical calmness, he stabbed it through the eye and twisted.
Albert’s jaw hung open.
“What the hell is this guy?!”
Goblin after goblin lunged, and Rago danced through them like a man possessed—or worse, a man having fun.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
His sword was no masterwork, but his technique—fluid, savage, efficient—was terrifying.
Blood sprayed. Limbs flew. Heads popped like melons.
The grass was dyed red, and birds fled from the treetops in panic.
Yet Rago was still smiling.
Still humming.
Still going.
And just when the team thought it couldn't get weirder—
“Extract their hearts and blood,” Rago suddenly declared, standing amid a pile of twitching goblin corpses.
“What?”
Everyone blinked.
Albert stared. “What in the actual…”
“Their hearts,” Rago repeated, as if he were asking someone to hand him a spoon. “And blood. Also, any meat that isn’t completely rotten. I want those too.”
There was silence.
The wind stopped. Somewhere, a squirrel paused mid-chew in horror.
“They’re poisonous,” one player protested. “Completely useless!”
But Rago was already crouched beside a still-warm corpse, calmly slicing through its ribcage like he was opening a packet of snacks.
With a squelch, he plucked the goblin heart out and held it up.
It pulsed once in his palm before he dropped it into a brown pouch—one he’d purchased earlier from a stall labeled “Spice & Storage.”
“Don’t worry,” he added casually, blood up to his elbows. "I have my ways.”
Then he began cutting off chunks of flesh, scraping blood into vials, and even measuring some with a makeshift wooden spoon.
Albert’s eyebrow twitched so hard it looked like it might crawl off his face.
The other players hesitated—half terrified, half confused.
Then, reluctantly, they joined in.
One gagged while sawing off a goblin thigh.
Another threw up, paused, then wiped his mouth and kept going.
Even the girl who refused to touch blood was now elbow-deep in goblin guts, muttering, “I didn't train in swordsmanship for this…”
In some bodies, small mana crystals glimmered faintly—low-tier, but useful.
Rago collected them too, tossing them in a separate pouch labeled “For Snacks Later?”
No one dared ask if it was a joke.
By the time the moon began to peek through the treetops, the forest had gone completely silent.
No more goblin shrieks.
No more rustling.
Just the soft plop of another heart landing in a pouch, and the squishy, wet snip of Rago dissecting his next victim with surgical calm.
“Send half of the mana crystals to the main base,” Rago finally said. “Turn them into mana powder. The rest we’ll… experiment with.”
Albert stared at him, the blood-slick figure silhouetted in the moonlight like some back-alley butcher god.
His face was pale.
‘He’s not just crazy… He’s insane.’
And yet… the goblins were dead.
The team unharmed. Resources gathered.
Mission: successful.
Absurdly successful.
As the night fully settled in, and the stars twinkled above the blood-stained forest, Albert whispered to himself.
“…What the hell have we let in?”
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“Hey, we should go back now.”
Albert's voice broke the eerie quiet as the sky finally gave in to nightfall.
His tone was urgent, his brows furrowed beneath the dim, flickering light of the dying sun.
“Why?” I asked calmly, glancing sideways at him.
“The goblins…” he said, glancing toward the dark treeline. “At night, they become more aggressive. They can see in the dark, you know. It’s suicide to keep going.”
He wasn’t wrong to worry.
The forest, once illuminated by a fading crimson sunset, was now being consumed by deep blue shadows.
The trees loomed taller in the dark, their branches swaying like skeletal hands whispering curses.
A cold wind began to blow through the underbrush, rustling the leaves and carrying with it the distant shrill shrieks of goblins echoing in every direction.
But he was wrong about one thing.
“Wrong,” I said, a calm smile spreading across my face as I looked toward the forest, unblinking. “Night… is my domain.”
Albert looked genuinely puzzled, his mouth slightly open, breath caught between confusion and disbelief.
“What do you mean?”
I scanned the trees until one caught my eye. A sturdy oak, its base wide and roots coiled like snakes over the ground.
“That spot is good,” I said, walking toward it with steady steps.
I sat down beside the tree, resting my back against the trunk, sword laid across my lap as if I were relaxing on a picnic.
The others hesitated, confusion painted on their faces, but eventually followed.
They circled around me, cautious yet drawn in by curiosity.
“Let’s set up a campfire here,” I said.
No one spoke.
Albert exchanged glances with Hemel and the others.
Eventually, they wordlessly began gathering dry wood.
Twigs cracked underfoot.
A few players muttered complaints under their breath, but they worked.
Hemel extended his palm and conjured a controlled fireball with a low hum, flicking it into the woodpile.
It caught instantly.
The fire hissed and spat, sending sparks into the air.
The campfire flared to life.
Its warm orange glow pushed back against the encroaching darkness, casting tall, twitching shadows across the mossy forest floor.
For a moment, there was silence.
Then—
“KREEEEEE!!”
“KREE!! KREEEEE!!”
The goblins screamed in the distance, their guttural howls bouncing off the trees, closing in from all sides.
The sound came in waves—first from the east, then the south, then suddenly behind us.
Albert jumped slightly.
His eyes darted toward the sound.
“They’re coming closer…”
But I didn't move. I didn’t even look away from the fire.
“Take out the mana potions,” I said softly.
Albert blinked. “What?”
“It’s time to hunt.”
The wind died.
Then—
The shadows twitched.
The darkness beyond the firelight began to stir, writhing like something alive.
The flames cracked louder now, casting erratic, sharp shadows on the trees.
Then, with a soft growl—
“Grrrrr…”
A creature emerged from the dark.
Its form was a wolf, but its body was made of living shadow, black as obsidian, shaped like fog and muscle fused into one.
Its eyes glowed like molten coals—fierce, unblinking.
Albert stumbled back, nearly falling.
“What the hell is that?!”
But before anyone could even finish gasping, another came.
Then another.
And another.
One after another, wolves stepped out of the dark, silent as ghosts and twice as terrifying.
Fifteen in total.
They stood around the firelight, surrounding us but not attacking, as if waiting for orders from a master.
I uncorked a mana potion, the purple liquid shimmering faintly, and took a slow sip.
The cold fluid burned pleasantly down my throat.
“Go,” I commanded, voice low but firm. “Hunt them all.”
“GRRRRR—!”
Without hesitation, the wolves turned and vanished back into the trees like smoke pulled by a vacuum.
Then…
The forest exploded in sound.
“KREEEEEEEK!!”
“GRAAAAAK!!”
[You’ve slain a goblin!]
“Kree! Kreeee!!”
[You’ve slain a goblin!]
The screams came from every direction—high-pitched wails of panic and death, mixed with the snarling of wolves and the sickening crunch of bone.
Goblins were being torn apart.
The others turned pale, some holding their weapons tighter, others frozen in disbelief.
“You all can sleep if you want,” I said, still sipping my mana potion, as another notification popped in front of my vision.
[You’ve slain a goblin!]
No one responded.
Albert just stood there, eyes wide, his mind racing.
‘Sleep? In this situation? With that going on?!’
Behind the firelight, a goblin’s shriek was abruptly cut off with a wet crunch.
Another message appeared.
[You’ve slain a goblin!]
‘Who the hell would even think of sleeping at a time like this?!’
‘Seriously, who possesses such a fraudulent ability?!’
And yet… he couldn’t take his eyes off me.
Sitting there, relaxed, sipping mana potions like it was tea, commanding beasts of shadow to massacre goblins in the dark.
A man of calm in the middle of carnage.
‘…If it’s this bastard…’
‘Maybe… just maybe… destroying the Empire isn’t a joke after all.’
The night deepened.
The stars above blinked through the gaps in the canopy, cold and distant.
The forest remained alive with howls, shrieks, and death.
And the messages never stopped.
[You’ve slain a goblin!]
[You’ve slain a goblin!]
[You’ve slain a goblin!]
One after another. Like a rain of death.
And still, I drank the mana potions calmly.
The night… was far from over.