Bastion crossed the border and headed straight for the dukedom's walls, keeping the Chief in sight behind him. It had been a long week of galloping at full speed while maintaining constant awareness of his pursuer. Fortunately, he had the stamina to endure the ordeal.
The Chief, meanwhile, remained in peak condition, still probing for new ways to close the distance, still red with rage, still naked, still furious. He chased with absolute, single-minded focus, intent on hunting down his prey without regard for anything else.
That was when his instincts screamed.
Certain death awaited him if he continued.
He froze like a deer in headlights, unable to move even an inch as the warning blared through his mind, snapping him out of his enraged focus. There were no visible signs of danger, no pressure, no hostile presence. The forest was as peaceful as the Great Forest usually was, with a distant clearing that seemed to lead toward tall walls. And yet, his instincts were unyielding.
He would die if he continued the chase.
With the rage receding and reason returning, the Chief was forced to confront an impossible dilemma. His frenzy had been driven by an ancestral rage, one that demanded his enemy's blood and his victory above all else. Once awakened, it would not end until every enemy lay dead or incapacitated.
It was a power he discovered during a deadly battle against a foe ten times stronger than himself. He had been dying with only a sliver of life left, with no hope of ever succeeding, when suddenly his blood boiled and his mind clouded, deafened by the sound of drums and the ancestors' answer to a call that was never given.
Strength beyond measure filled him, along with unending stamina and a toughness that rivaled and ultimately overwhelmed his stronger opponent. He surrendered to the rage that day and emerged victorious, leaving a sea of corpses at his feet.
But the answer, the power, carried a curse. If he failed, if he fled to save his life, the blessings granted to him would be stripped away, whether he could endure the loss or not.
His enemies had always been mindless creatures that fought to the death. This was the first foe who ran and could not be caught. The first time his instincts promised certain death without leeway.
That left him with only two choices. Press on and gamble that his instincts were wrong, or retreat and suffer the consequences of an unpaid debt.
Bastion noticed and turned back with a frown.
"Not good. He knows he will die if he crosses the border. Damn his sharp instincts," Bastion cursed. "He is going to return to the village and target the girls instead. I have to bring him down now."
Bastion pulled the reins and brought his diamond steed to a halt, then turned and drew the autocannon. He was about to charge back, ready to fire, when he noticed something amiss.
The Chief used all his strength to leap back and race toward the village. On its own, that would have confirmed Bastion's suspicions, but he quickly noticed something else. The Chief was getting smaller.
"Has his form finally started to run out? No. He turned back and fled, which means the condition to end his empowered state is abandoning the battle. He is about to suffer a massive backlash. This is my chance," Bastion realized.
He charged forward at full speed and even used Charge in tandem to push his speed to the limit. It wasn't enough at first as the Chief continued to put distance between them when slowly the distance started shrinking. It seemed the Chief was getting weaker by the second.
From his enraged height of 6'6" feet tall (1.98 m), he started shrinking past his initial height as a hobgoblin at 6 feet tall (1.83 m) and continued to shrink all the way down to 4 feet tall (1.22 m). Along with his diminishing stature, the Chief, now reduced to a mere goblin, was growing weaker and slower as well. Finally, the Chief's power stabilized at the peak of Rank 2.
He was still stronger than Bastion by as much as 10 times, but it was a gap Bastion could easily bridge by using Reinforce, Amplify, and his offensive skills. On top of that, the Chief's stamina appeared nearly exhausted after running at full power for almost a week, in contrast to Bastion's relatively rested state, since he had only been riding during that time.
Bastion lined up his sights and opened fire with the autocannon, slowing his charge. This time, rather than ignoring the annoying pebbles, the Chief dodged with everything he had. His instincts warned him that the pebbles were no longer as weak as before. They were sharp stones now, capable of tearing through his flesh. A few hits might not be enough to kill him outright, but the damage would accumulate. He would eventually die from blood loss and exhaustion, so he did his best to avoid them at all costs.
The initial cat and mouse chase continued with a twist. Now it was the Chief who ran for his life while Bastion chased him relentlessly. The difference was that Bastion had the advantage in catching the Chief since he still had his diamond steed to close the gap and his autocannon to attack with.
Their chase toward the goblin village continued for a day and a night until the Chief finally made a mistake at twilight. His instincts may have guided him to the optimal choices when dodging, but his body was beginning to give out. He had been running at full speed nonstop for 24 hours while avoiding every bullet Bastion fired. Now he faltered and took a shot to the ankle, crippling his agility.
He continued to hop on one leg, but more bullets found their mark. A few struck his arms, a few his legs, a few tore through his torso, until he was riddled with holes. Exhausted and bleeding fast, the Chief collapsed to the ground, staring at his opponent with a deadly glare. If looks could kill, Bastion would have died a thousand times over.
Bastion didn't take any chances and opened fire on the immobilized goblin, tearing him apart with a hail of bullets. Both of his feet were riddled, several bullets pierced vital organs, one of his eyes was destroyed, and an entire ear was torn off before Bastion finally considered it safe enough to approach for the coup de grâce.
He dismounted, stored his autocannon, drew his sword, and approached the dying goblin. He raised the blade high, activated Slash, and was about to deliver the final beheading blow when his own instincts flared, warning him of danger from behind.
He leapt to the side as a shadow materialized, a spike hurtling straight for the back of his head. Judging by its force and razor-thin tip, it would have been enough to kill him in a single hit.
'Elyra! Come to me now!' Bastion shouted through his telepathic link.
"It's useless," a voice called from the twilight. "I've isolated the shadows in this entire area. You won't be able to use my daughter against me."
"Varyn," Bastion spat. "Do you really want to fuck your own daughter that badly?"
"Don't insult me!" Varyn shouted. "You Diamondharts are all the same. First it was the love of my life, and now you want to take my daughter as well? We've sacrificed enough for our stupid oath, but no more! You will give my daughter back to me."
"Do you honestly think that's how this works?" Bastion asked incredulously as he drew his shield and used Diamond Armor to cover himself completely in diamonds. "Your daughter made the decision of her own volition. Do you honestly consider her less than human, incapable of making choices at her age?"
"She is young and foolish for falling for you, a clear sign of her immaturity. Give it a few centuries, and she will mature into a proper daughter."
"While hating every fiber of your being. It's obvious who killed me if you pull this off."
"Not necessarily," the shadows whispered as the Chief began to heal from his wounds.
The holes riddling his body closed, his nearly spent stamina returned to full, and his dwindling strength surged back. He stood, astonished at his recovery, before focusing on the knight who had nearly killed him. He glared menacingly, then bolted into the distance, unwilling to face an opponent who had come so close to ending him.
Suddenly, he froze as his instincts flared in warning. If he continued, he would die trying to escape.
"That's it," the voice in the darkness whispered. "Be a good little goblin and kill the bastard for me."
A crude spear, fashioned from Rank 2 wood, appeared on the ground in front of the Chief. Weighing his options, he bent to pick it up, then turned to Bastion with equal parts fear and determination. He knew what he had to do to survive and live another day. He had to kill this knight with everything he had.
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