Chapter 25: Goblin Slayer
The heavy thud of his heart in his chest was the only sound Amukelo could focus on as he quickly assessed his situation. The rustling steps approaching signified danger—more than he could handle alone. He was outnumbered and outmatched, with over ten goblins and a massive troll likely drawn by the noise of his battle. Escape seemed futile; the sparse forest cover offered little opportunity for a clean getaway without being seen.
His mind racing, Amukelo made a split-second decision to use the terrain to his advantage. He spotted a large tree, its gnarled roots sprawling out to create a natural recess in the ground. It was not much, but it was the best chance he had. Sprinting to the tree, he slid into the hollowed space beneath it, the roots forming a partial barrier around him. He tucked his body in tightly, making himself as small and as inconspicuous as possible.
As he settled into his hiding spot, the sounds of the approaching group grew louder, the earth trembling slightly under the troll's heavy steps. The air was thick with tension, each rustle of the leaves and snap of twigs ramping up Amukelo's anxiety. He dared not move, his eyes fixed on the slivers of the forest he could see through the roots' gaps.
Then, the deep, resonant roar of the troll cut through the forest, startling Amukelo. He heard the creature's heavy sniffs as it investigated the fallen griffin, its sharp olfactory senses scanning for clues. The troll moved around the clearing, its steps deliberate and ominous. The goblins, meanwhile, remained silent and still, their discipline in stark contrast to their usually chaotic nature, awaiting signals from their larger companion.
The troll's footsteps drew nearer to Amukelo's makeshift shelter. His breath caught in his throat as he heard the creature pause directly beside the tree. The sound of its breathing was deafening, each exhale sending shivers down Amukelo's spine. He could almost feel the heat of the troll's breath as it sniffed the air, its head perilously close to his hiding spot.
For a moment that felt like an eternity, everything stood still. Amukelo's entire body tensed, prepared for the worst. But then, the troll grunted something unintelligible in the guttural tongue of the goblins and moved away. It seemed to have decided the scent trail ended there or perhaps attributed the griffin's demise to something else. Whatever the reason, it signaled the group to move on.
With the weight of the troll's presence lifting, the goblins began to stir, dragging the griffin's body away with them. The sound of their departure was like the most beautiful melody to Amukelo's ears. He remained still, not daring to emerge from his hideout until the sounds of the departing goblins and their troll companion faded completely into the distance.
Slowly, cautiously, Amukelo crept from his hiding place under the tree, his muscles stiff from tension and his mind reeling from the close encounter. He looked around, his senses still on high alert, ensuring the coast was truly clear. With a deep, steadying breath, he began to make his way back to his cave, each step away from the tree a step back from the edge of disaster.
As Amukelo trudged back to his cave, his expression was heavy with unease. He muttered to himself, "This is worse than I thought. Goblins… They might end up being a bigger problem than that griffin." He paused at the entrance of his cave, staring out at the jagged peaks of the mountain range.
The next day, Amukelo ventured out cautiously. He saw increased activity of goblins, probably because of yesterday. Some groups moved in disorganized packs of six or seven, while others were larger, with trolls among them. He kept his distance, observing their patterns.
Perched on a high ridge, Amukelo watched the chaos below. He whispered to himself, "If this keeps up, I'll have to leave the mountain. Staying here won't be worth it."
For the next few days, Amukelo shifted his routine, avoiding high-traffic areas and staying alert. The goblins' increased activity forced him to move carefully through the forest. One morning, he spotted a smaller group of only four goblins meandering through the trees. It was the smallest group he'd seen in days, and they appeared isolated.
Goblins were weaker than the griffin he had faced before, but they were cunning in groups. Amukelo weighed his options, silently debating the risk. "Four isn't too many," he whispered. "If I'm careful, I can take them out before they sound an alarm."
The goblins eventually stopped by a riverbank, two of them crouching to drink while the other two kept watch. The ones by the water seemed distracted, their crude weapons resting at their sides. Amukelo tightened his grip on his sword and crept closer.
When the moment came, Amukelo sprang from the bushes. He slashed cleanly through the throat of the first goblin before it could even raise its weapon. Blood sprayed as the creature collapsed with a gurgled cry, drawing the attention of its comrades.
The second goblin, one of the sentries, lunged at Amukelo with a snarl as it swung its rusted axe. Amukelo sidestepped, parrying the blow and countering with a forceful push that sent the goblin stumbling backward.
The commotion startled the two goblins at the water. They turned, eyes wide with alarm, and scrambled for their weapons. Amukelo acted swiftly, kicking the goblin he had pushed so hard that it fell into the river with a splash, its limbs flailing as it struggled to find footing on the slippery rocks.
Another goblin charged at him. Amukelo blocked its strike and retaliated with a quick slash across its torso. The goblin staggered, clutching its wound but refusing to fall. Before Amukelo could finish it, the goblin at the waterline let out a guttural cry, signaling others.
"Not today," Amukelo growled, his focus narrowing as the third goblin closed in. He shifted his weight and delivered a powerful elbow to the goblin's face. The creature stumbled, dazed, and Amukelo took the opening to drive his sword into its chest. He pulled his blade free with a grunt, stepping back just in time to avoid another attack from the injured goblin he had slashed earlier.
The wounded goblin lunged, but Amukelo sidestepped effortlessly. With a single, fluid motion, he severed its head, the body crumpling lifelessly to the ground.
Glancing toward the river, he realized the goblin he had kicked was no longer there. His eyes darted through the trees, scanning for movement. Then he spotted it as it tried to escape.
"Not so fast," Amukelo muttered. He drew a dagger from his belt. Then Amukelo threw his dagger, striking the creature squarely in the back. The goblin fell with a pained screech but still clawed at the ground, dragging itself forward.
Amukelo strode toward it, his expression hardening. He knelt beside the goblin, who turned its terrified eyes toward him, its mouth working soundlessly as blood spilled from its lips. He raised his sword and brought it down with finality.
For a moment, he stood there, breathing heavily, surveying the carnage. Four goblins, all dead. If even one of them had escaped, it could have drawn the attention of the larger groups roaming the mountains.
Sheathing his sword, Amukelo scanned the area once more before retreating into the forest.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone