The girl collapsed behind me, gasping for breath and clearly one bad decision away from passing out. Not a fighter. Just a terrified bystander caught in the worst real-life horror game imaginable.
Which meant I had to keep Mr. Murder Tusks focused on me.
The Hobgoblin let out a guttural snarl and rushed forward. Fast. Like, "oh no I forgot to dodge" fast.
I barely brought up my baseball bat in time. The impact rattled my bones and sent me skidding backwards like someone had just slapped a shopping cart into turbo mode.
-38 HP
Ow.
I planted my feet and yelled, "Come on, Shrek's evil cousin! I've fought worse in my nightmares!"
(Okay, that was a lie. Nothing in my nightmares had muscle definition like this guy.)
Time to go full rage mode.
I lunged in with a roar, feinted left, then swung right, right into his ribs. The impact cracked like a home run in the World Series. The Hobgoblin staggered.
Yes!
Then he backhanded me across the field like I was a particularly annoying fly.
-62 HP
Okay. Still conscious. Still mad.
And now it was personal.
I gritted my teeth, summoned another Fireball and launched it point blank as I charged back in.
The explosion lit up the field like Fourth of July. The Hobgoblin howled and stumbled, smoke rising off its chest.
It was wounded. But not done.
Neither was I.
Another fireball explosion threw up a cloud of smoke, and for a second, everything went quiet just the crackle of burning grass and my own ragged breathing.
Then he roared again.
Red Hobgoblin, Level 30, still very much alive but now limping, burned, and real mad.
Same, buddy.
Berserk timer ticking down in the corner of my vision, less than a minute left. Time to go full shonen anime protagonist. If I screamed loud enough, maybe the universe would throw me a power-up.
I didn't think. I didn't plan. I moved.
My bat slammed into his knee with a crunch that made even me wince. The hobgoblin stumbled forward, and I was already behind him, aiming for the spine.
Crack.
He dropped to one knee, snarling, swinging wildly. One claw grazed my shoulder, some HP dropped but I didn't stop.
I couldn't stop.
+50% Strength meant my swings hit like a wrecking ball strapped to a caffeine overdose. I grabbed the bat with both hands, jumped, and brought it down on his skull like I was ringing the world's angriest bell.
WHAM.
The Hobgoblin gave one last twitch and then slumped forward, unmoving.
[Warning: Weapon Durability Critically Low – 10/100]
[Level Up x2!]
[Loot Acquired:]
Hobgoblin Fang
War Club
Assorted Potions
$1,000
1,000 Ancient Coins
400 souls shards
1 Mystery Box
I stood there, panting, every part of me aching, muscles burning, and still half-fried from Fireball recoil.
[Berserk Expired]
[Debuff Active: -20% Strength & Stamina for 30 Minutes]
Oh, good. Just what I needed: a post-battle cooldown that made me feel like I'd run a marathon with bricks taped to my legs.
But the girl was safe. The field was quiet. And I'd just soloed a level 30 mini-boss with nothing but rage, fire, and one very tired baseball bat.
I looked at the cracked weapon in my hands.
"…I'm gonna need a new bat."
The moment the red hobgoblin hit the dirt, the girl collapsed to her knees, gasping. Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she was trying really hard to not fall apart. Brave kid.
(Huh. She looked about my age. So why was I suddenly channeling the voiceover from a gritty action movie trailer?
"He had seen too much. He had lost too many. He was... fifteen.")
She looked up at me with wide, shell-shocked eyes.
"Please… my parents,they're still inside. The monster those... those things..."
That was all I needed to hear.
Sure, I was still riding the edge of my berserk debuff strength and stamina down 20%, like my body had just finished Black Friday shopping at a gym. But even if I had zero stats left and had to crawl in there with a toothpick, I wasn't walking away.
"I've got you," I said, my voice sounding like it had been sandpapered by dragons.
"Let's go."
We headed for the next farmhouse. Mist still clung to the ground, thick enough to chew, and I half-expected another ambush. But instead…
Boom !
Rhea came charging out of the house like a barbarian goddess, wielding her favorite murder-club,the one with spikes and questionable legality.
"Rhea!"
I called out, both relieved and mildly terrified.
She looked up, bloodied and panting, and gave me a nod.
"About time. What kept you? Giant red goblin?"
"Something like that."
Inside the house, I spotted the girl's parents. Hurt, bleeding, but alive. Relief hit me like a truck.
But the job wasn't done. There were still goblins. Still that itch under my skin that said: clean house.
Debuff or not, I gripped my bat and stepped forward.
Time to mop up.
We left the girl and her injured parents inside, stacking furniture against the door as a makeshift barricade. It wouldn't hold off an army, but maybe it could trip up a goblin with bad depth perception. There weren't many goblins left… hopefully.
Outside, the air was thick, mist, smoke, and that awful burnt mushroom stench that goblins always left behind. It clung to my clothes, my skin, my throat. I didn't even notice it during the fight. Now it was all I could smell.
Michael was already walking toward us, looking like he'd stepped out of a war zone. His hoodie was torn, his sleeves rolled up, and one hand still faintly glowing with residual magic.
"Took you long enough," I said, trying to sound normal as I wiped blood and goblin gunk off my bat.
He raised an eyebrow.
"You're covered in blood. Yours?"
"Mostly not."
Rhea gave a short laugh, but it didn't reach her eyes.
"He took on a hobgoblin by himself," she said. "Nearly broke himself doing it, too."
Michael glanced at me, then down at my cracked bat.
"You alright?"
"Still standing," I said.
"What about you? What'd you do, toss sparkles at them?"
"Eight goblins," he said simply, and dropped something unceremoniously on the ground. I didn't look too closely. I didn't want to know.
Before I could respond, he looked toward the fields and tensed.
"There....movement."
A dozen goblins stumbled out of a half-collapsed chicken coop, dazed and snarling. They didn't seem to know where they were going, but they were looking for something to smash.
We didn't speak. We just moved.
Rhea rushed in from the left with her spiked club, Michael charged up the middle with a glowing fist, and I went right, cracked bat in hand. We worked like a unit, like we'd done this a hundred times even though we hadn't. Not really.
Three minutes later, the field was quiet. The goblins were down. Deeply traumatized lone chicken limped away from the wreckage like it had seen the end of the world.
Michael exhaled slowly.
"Farm's clear. I'll radio them in."
I nodded but didn't speak. My eyes were drawn back toward the house. Toward the broken door. Toward the room I'd arrived at too late.
"I was late," I said quietly. "The ones in the first house... I couldn't save them."
Rhea didn't say anything. Michael didn't either.
I didn't need them to.
Because I knew. This wouldn't be the last time. Not unless I got faster. Stronger. Smarter.
Next time… I wanted to be on time.
Kyle Walker (Lv. 25 )
HP: 480/480
MP: 400/400
SP: 480/480
Stats:
STR: 50 (+5 from Great Sun Inner Energy) (+3 from Arm Guard) ( 58 )
VIT: 30 (+3 from Arm Guard, +5 from Great Sun Inner Energy) ( +5 leather armor ) ( 43 )
DEX: 42 (+1 from Title ) ( 43 )
INT: 28
WIS: 28
LUK: 30
Unassigned Stat Points: 94
Unassigned Skill Points: 112
Att: 68
Def: 43( Leather Armor +20 ) ( 63 )
Eva: 43