As they stood before the shimmering barrier cast by the village priest, the blacksmith glanced at Ren.
"Show me your sword," he said.
Before Ren could respond, the blacksmith snatched it from his hands.
"H-Hey!" Ren gasped. "What are you doing?"
The blacksmith examined the blade briefly, then scoffed.
"This wouldn't even scratch the skin of the Goblin King."
Ren frowned in confusion. "Then… what do we do? We don't have another sword."
The blacksmith smacked Ren's back with a heavy hand.
"Kid, I've got a plan."
Ren winced. "Ow—what plan?"
"You distract the goblins. I'll sneak into my forge and craft you a proper blade."
He held up a finger. "But there's a catch—you'll only get one strike. After that, the sword will be useless."
Ren dropped to one knee and began sketching lines in the dirt with his finger.
"If I run along the wall here… bait them around this path…"
He nodded. "It could work."
The blacksmith handed him back the old sword.
"Just don't die before I'm done. I'm only a hundred years old, after all."
Ren chuckled. "You're crazy, old man."
"I'm barely an adult among dwarves," the blacksmith said with a wink.
Ren stood and started warming up—jumping from toe to toe, rolling his shoulders, cracking his neck.
"I'm ready," he muttered—and stepped beyond the barrier.
He broke into a sprint, feet pounding the dirt as he ran along the wooden wall. With every step, his speed increased.
Goblins shrieked and lunged at him. Ren met them head-on, blade flashing, blood flying. He cut a path through them and reached the far side of the village.
They chased him relentlessly.
Ren turned and bolted toward the wooden barricade.
He jumped, landed on the wall, used it to spring backward—twisting midair—and slashed a goblin's head clean off before landing on his feet.
Now he stood alone, surrounded.
From the church on the hill, villagers watched in tense silence.
The man who had mocked Ken earlier sneered. "Told you, Ken. He's just a kid."
Ken simply smirked. "Watch closely."
A woman pointed and shouted, "Look! The old dwarf's heading to the forge!"
Down below, Ren twirled his sword lazily.
The goblins charged.
Ren whispered, "Sword ability: Dance of Death."
A thunderous sonic boom cracked through the air.
Ren vanished—then reappeared in a blur, slicing through thirty goblins in a single, fluid arc.
The villagers gasped. No one could believe what they'd just seen.
Ren felt the sword tremble. Cracks splintered across its surface.
A hobgoblin lunged.
Ren dodged, severed its wrist, caught its sword as it dropped, and slashed across its throat.
Two more hobgoblins came from opposite sides.
Ren jumped, spinning midair, and kicked them both in the face—landing in a crouch.
Meanwhile, in the forge…
The blacksmith kicked open the door, rushed inside, and yanked open a dusty trunk.
He grinned.
"There you are… knew I'd need you one day."
He tossed firewood into the forge and threw in a hunk of dark, gleaming iron.
Flames roared.
The clang—clang—clang of his hammer echoed through the village.
Everyone heard it.
Wounded villagers stirred.
Hope flickered in sunken eyes.
Ren, still standing in the battlefield, smiled.
"You're something else, old man."
But then—he noticed several goblins and hobgoblins breaking off, heading toward the forge.
His eyes narrowed.
Not on my watch.
Ren roared and charged forward, sword flashing once more.
As Ren chased down the last of the fleeing goblins near the forge, his blade became a blur.
One by one, the creatures fell—screaming, thrashing, then silent.
The blacksmith's hammer rang in the background, a steady rhythm of hope.
Ren kept moving.
A hulking hobgoblin lunged at him with a two-handed sword.
Ren didn't slow.
Their blades clashed with a metallic roar—CLANG!
Ren twisted, stepped inside the hobgoblin's guard, and slashed across its chest, slicing through armor and bone.
The brute collapsed with a grunt.
But before Ren could even breathe—
WHAM!
A massive hammer came out of nowhere and smashed into his side.
Ren's eyes widened as the blow lifted him off his feet.
BOOM!
He crashed through the wooden wall of the forge, tearing through tools, tables, and shelves.
The ceiling groaned—then gave way.
CRACK!
The roof collapsed in a storm of debris, burying him beneath timber, tiles, and stone.
Smoke rose from the wreckage.
Silence.
Then—footsteps. Heavy. Deliberate.
From the shadows stepped a towering figure.
Green skin stretched over thick muscle. Horned crown. Eyes burning with malice.
In one massive hand, he held the bloodstained war hammer that had flattened Ren.
The goblins nearby dropped to their knees in reverence.
The villagers watching from the church gasped in horror.
The figure grinned.
The one who struck Ren down… was none other than the Goblin King
The Goblin King, towering at nearly thirteen feet tall, gripped his monstrous hammer—eight feet of jagged black iron, the head stained with blood.
His eyes narrowed.
He turned to the last hobgoblin beside him.
With a guttural snarl, he pointed at the rubble where Ren had vanished.
"Finish it."
The hobgoblin obeyed, charging into the smoke with a scream.
Silence followed.
A heartbeat.
Then—
CRASH!
The hobgoblin's broken body came flying back out of the smoke, spine twisted, limbs flailing mid-air—and slammed into the ground at the Goblin King's feet.
Gasps rang out from the villagers.
The priest's barrier shimmered—then flickered out completely.
Someone began to cry.
"It's over," a woman whispered.
"Our last hope…"
Then the smoke parted.
And something walked out.
Ren.
His face was smeared with blood. His eyes burned like fire.
Both arms hung with torn muscle and shattered bone—but he held two swords.
His breathing was ragged, chest heaving. But each step was steady.
Each step was will.
The goblins screamed in rage—and terror.
They rushed him from every side.
Ren roared and burst forward, slashing with both blades—a whirlwind of steel and fury.
One fell. Then another. Then five more.
Blood sprayed across the dirt as he carved a path straight toward the Goblin King.
The earth shook with every one of the King's steps as he raised the colossal hammer high.
BOOM!
He brought it down—hard enough to shatter the earth.
But Ren was faster.
He leapt, twisting midair.
The hammer slammed into the ground with an earthquake crack—
And Ren landed on the head of the hammer, balancing with one foot on the thick metal handle.
His torn cape fluttered in the smoke.
Face to face now—Ren looked down at the beast.
Voice hoarse but defiant, he growled:
"What did you do to the human children?"
The Goblin King snarled and jerked the hammer upward—flinging Ren like a ragdoll through the air.
Ren hit the ground hard and rolled, coughing blood.
The Goblin King stepped forward, voice low and stammering, thick with hatred.
"W-We didn't attack humans… h-humans attacked us first…"
His claws tightened around the hammer.
Suddenly, an old dwarf shouted from the smoke.
"Take this!"
He threw a katana—a long, sharp sword with a shining cover—straight toward Ren.
Ren let go of his two old swords and caught the katana with both hands—one on the handle, one on the sheath.
He dropped into a fighting stance, body shaking, blood dripping from his head.
He thought,
"I have to use it now… even if it's not ready yet."
Then he whispered through clenched teeth,
"Ancient Art… Solar Slash."
He coughed up blood—but didn't stop.
The Goblin King, tall as a building, stepped forward, arms wide and ready to crush him.
Ren rushed forward, gathering glowing energy into the blade. The sword lit up with bright gold light, like a small sun.
He ran so fast, the ground cracked behind him.
In a blink, Ren appeared in front of the Goblin King—
SWISH!
He slashed upward with the glowing blade.
The Goblin King screamed—not in anger, but in pain.
Both of his arms were cut off.
His huge hammer flew into the air, spinning fast.
The monster stumbled, blood pouring from his shoulders.
Ren didn't stop.
He jumped, ran up the King's chest, and launched himself high.
In mid-air, he grabbed the falling hammer with both hands.
"This ends now!" he yelled.
And then—
BOOOOM!
He smashed the hammer down onto the Goblin King's head.
A huge shockwave blasted out—dust, rocks, and goblins flying everywhere.
When the dust cleared…
The giant hammer was buried in the ground.
And the Goblin King lay crushed underneath it—defeated.
Ren stood above him, breathing hard, his body broken and bloody…
But still standing.