Chapter 21: Goblins Massacre

Chapter 21: Goblins Massacre The goblin camp stretched out before us in a messy sprawl of tents, crooked stakes, and flickering bonfires. Torn banners hung from snapped poles, and clusters of goblins wandered around—most of them hunched over scraps of raw meat or half-burnt food. Their armor didn’t match, their weapons looked dull—but there were a lot of them. At a quick glance, over two hundred. And right at the center, sitting atop a ring of flat stones surrounded by bone-carved totems, were two Hobgoblins. One of them was clad in jagged, rusted armor and held an enormous cleaver—the Hobgoblin Warrior, clearly the muscle of the group. The other wore a robe made of stitched-together hides, holding a staff made of bones—the Hobgoblin Shaman, who radiated waves of foul, corrupted magic. These two were the leaders. They sat relaxed, eating and giving out loud, guttural orders while the rest of the goblins feasted in front of them. None of them realized that every scout guarding the outskirts was already dead. Their entire first line of defense had been wiped out in silence. Exactly what I wanted. I took a deep breath and murmured, "It’s time." Puddle tensed beside me, his body preparing for combat. I stepped into the open, raising my hand slowly as I began to chant. It was risky. Chanting left me open—but the spell I was casting? It was the strongest one I had. Light Spear—boosted by the 200% power bonus from full verbal casting. The moment my voice echoed across the clearing, the camp fell into stillness. Dozens of goblins froze. Food slipped from their hands. Confused yells and screeches rose as they turned and saw me standing there, lit up by the growing glow of my magic. "Radiance that pierces the night..." "By my will, take form and flight..." "Strike with judgment—holy light!" Four golden spears flared into being—two orbiting me, two more spinning around Puddle’s shimmering form. Each one buzzed with holy energy, the air itself warping from the heat of the divine magic. The goblins shouted in panic, tripping over each other. Some reached for weapons, others just stared, stunned by the glowing spears hovering in the air. But I wasn’t aiming at them. I looked straight at the two Hobgoblins on their stone seats. "Pierce and slay, Light Spear." I lowered my voice and pointed at them. The spears shot forward. Like bolts of pure light, they sliced through the smoky air, heading straight for their targets. The Shaman noticed them too late. He tried to lift his staff, but one spear stabbed into his chest just below the throat. The second hit him in the forehead with a sharp crack. His body jolted, twitched, then crumpled backward, dead before it touched the ground. The Warrior moved faster. He rolled to the side with a roar, dodging the worst of it. One spear hit his shoulder, tearing through armor and skin. The other grazed his thigh, making him fall to one knee. He wasn’t finished. Not yet. He looked up with burning eyes and let out a furious howl. "Guess I’ve got your attention now," I muttered, drawing my sword and stepping forward. The Hobgoblin’s cry echoed like a warhorn, and with it, the entire camp burst into chaos. Shrieking from every direction, the goblins charged. Their weapons were crude—clubs, chipped axes, broken blades—but with their numbers, they were still dangerous. The ground shook beneath their stampede. I raised my arm and shouted— "Warlord Command!" A wave of energy surged out from me, crackling like a storm. I felt my strength heighten, my speed sharpen, and for a brief moment, even the battlefield seemed to hesitate. This was one of the powerful skills I’d taken from the Orc Lord—a top-tier buff that boosted my presence and even my allies. Plus it also have an mino fear effect. And it worked. Dozens of goblins hesitated mid-charge, some stopping completely in shock. That brief pause was all I needed. "Puddle! Deal with the swarm!" I yelled, already charging ahead. "Kyuuu~!!" Puddle squealed with eagerness, his tiny form bursting with dark and water mana. He flew from my shoulder like a shot and smashed into the front lines of the goblin horde like a living cannonball. BOOM! The hit was devastating. Goblins flew in all directions, knocked into the air by the impact. Puddle’s mana burst outward in waves, and he began casting spells without pause—Shadow Tendrils, Water Jet, Light Bullets—all mixing together in a relentless storm of destruction. He wasn’t just holding the line. He was tearing it apart. They swarmed him by the dozens, stabbing and clawing—but it didn’t matter. His passive skill cut all damage in half. His health and mana kept refilling from the ambient energy, and every cast of his magic reduced their numbers further. Bodies dropped. Smoke rose from burned flesh. Screams echoed through the night. While Puddle handled the mob, I moved like a blade through the center. My eyes locked on the Hobgoblin Warrior, who was still getting to his feet, injured but alive. He rose with a growl, gripping his massive cleaver in both hands. "Your people die first," I said coldly, then charged. He blocked my first attack—but barely. The force pushed him back. I followed with Swift Cut, slicing cleanly, then brought down Vertical Slash like a falling hammer. CLANG! He parried again, but his cleaver cracked from the blow. Sparks flew. My blade bit into his shoulder, drawing blood and a pained roar. All around us, the camp was a storm of battle. But Puddle—my unstoppable companion—was pushing back more than forty goblins on his own. With his huge mana pool and triple-element magic, he wasn’t a simple summon anymore. He was a siege weapon. And me? I was the sword that would strike down their leader. "Come on," I muttered, stepping in once more. Minutes passed... Now, the camp was a graveyard. Smoke and the thick scent of mana filled the air. The only things left were the hiss of steam, the drip of blood, and the occasional clang of steel settling. Not a single goblin remained alive. Some were burned, others crushed or impaled—whatever the cause, the result was the same. Puddle had made sure none survived.