Capítulo 25: The Goblin ‘Fortress’
Karina cut down three goblin heads in a row, slicing through them as if they were butter. The game featured many base monsters, each designed with a set range of characteristics. The goblins that roamed the dark corners deep in forests or places like the Eugine Stretch shared a similar design. Their faces varied slightly, but none were as grotesque as those Akio had created. His goblins were twisted and evil-looking, slightly chubby, while these were less ugly and more skeletal.
The lowest-ranking type of goblin was a plain goblin, devoid of armor or skill, knowing only how to swing its weapon. Strategy was something learned from experience but only to a small degree. These base goblins ranged from level 2 to level 3. Their low level allowed Karina to effortlessly cut down the oncoming horde.
Ten goblins turned to twenty, then twenty to thirty. They kept coming, slowly surrounding Karina and Figmond. Without much worry, Karina had already faced her slight fear and rose to the challenge, cutting down the goblins with no wasted movements. Each turn of her body led to a precise swing, and each pivot back brought a deadly impact on the goblins.
The goblins had no strategies or tactics, merely bunching up for the slaughter, making it a simple game of whack-a-mole for Karina. Figmond, despite the fear that ached through his body, still got his fill of action. Occasionally, a goblin would get past Karina and try to attack Figmond, who defended the horse and carriage. With his dagger, Figmond made easy work of these goblins. Although they were level 3, their intelligence was laughable, and even someone as inexperienced as Figmond could drive a dagger right into their weak spots.
With each passing horde, Karina inched backward, maneuvering away from the growing pile of bodies she had laid to rest. A few goblins stumbled over the corpses, but quickly scrambled to their feet, their movements erratic yet swift. They were stupid but nimble, like frenzied rats in a maze.
The last goblin standing watched in horror as his comrades lay in pools of their own blood, bodies piled high around him. If he had the slightest bit of intelligence, he would have acted on his fear and fled. Instead, he snarled at the carnage, kicking a severed head that landed near his feet. He wielded a rusted short sword, his branded yellow teeth bared in a feral grin, and his bald head glistening with sweat. Letting out a hideous battle cry, he stretched his arms wide, trying to intimidate his foe. Gathering momentum, he leaped over a fallen comrade.
From the watchtower, the goblins peered through their telescopes, witnessing what they believed to be a brave warrior charging into battle. They saw his feet hurtling over the dead bodies, his form a blur of desperate motion. The goblin manning the telescope grinned, his crooked teeth flashing in the dim light. But his grin quickly vanished when he saw the goblin warrior's body sliced horizontally in mid-air, the clean slash separating him from his lower half.
The goblin's bisected body hit the ground with a sickening thud, and the air grew still. Karina stood tall and serious, her face and clothing drenched in the blood of the fallen. She moved with the grace of a seasoned warrior, every step deliberate, her eyes scanning for any sign of movement. Seeing a slight twitch among the bodies, she buried her sword in the source of the motion, using the hilt to support her weight as she leaned forward.
Her piercing gaze locked onto the goblin in the watchtower, who watched through his telescope. The intensity of her stare spooked him, causing him to drop the telescope with a clatter. He let out a loud grunt, stumbling back in fear.
The Eugine Stretch was silent, save for the distant calls of creatures echoing across the plains. Karina's presence loomed over the battlefield, a testament to her strength and resolve. The goblins on the watchtower shivered, realizing the true extent of her power. She was not just a warrior; she was a force of nature, unstoppable and relentless.
With her sword still buried in a goblin's body, Karina wiped the blood from her brow, her eyes never leaving the watchtower. She pulled the blade free with a slow, deliberate motion, the sound of steel scraping against bone echoing in the still air. The goblins on the watchtower could feel the weight of her stare, her eyes burning with a fierce, unyielding light.
She knew there were more to come, and she was ready. Her grip tightened on her sword, the blade gleaming ominously in the faint light. The battle was far from over, but she stood undeterred, a silent promise of vengeance etched in her every move. The wind howled through the barren plains, carrying with it the scent of blood and the promise of more to be spilled. Karina stood as a beacon of defiance, her presence a stark reminder that even in the face of overwhelming odds, she would not falter.
From behind, Figmond wiped the small amount of blood off his face, suppressing a grimace. He was always disgusted by the amount of blood he found himself drenched in when adventuring with Karina, but he shrugged it off. With a swift motion, he hurriedly drove his wooden stake into the ground, securing it before walking over to guide the horse around the pile of bodies—most of which Karina had laid to rest.
Karina moved forward with deliberate steps, her presence menacing, as if savoring the hunt. Her aim was clear: to instill even more fear into the goblins who believed they were safe within their camp. The barren plains of the Eugine Stretch were about to become their graveyard.
Suddenly, goblins wearing blue leather vests emerged from the camp, clearly meant to be some form of ranged unit. They scrambled to deter Karina and Figmond's advance, readying themselves just outside the makeshift fortress they called protection. Each goblin clutched a slingshot, some larger than others, but all armed with the same crude ammunition—small, hard rocks.
Karina eyed them from a distance, already certain that their projectiles would never reach her or Figmond. But that didn't stop the goblins from foolishly gripping their slingshots, pulling back the rubber bands, and laughing as they sent rocks soaring into the air. The stones flew high, but none came close to hitting their mark. It was almost laughable, a pathetic attempt to harm the duo. Yet, undeterred by their failure, the goblins continued to launch more, their faces twisted in concentration.
Normally, after one failed attempt, a sensible person would stop, realizing that the distance was too great. A smarter one wouldn't have tried at all. The goblins, however, persisted, oblivious to the futility of their efforts. Their shots were wildly off the mark, with no two projectiles following the same trajectory. Some rocks arced steeply, while others barely lifted off the ground. It was clear that these blue-vested goblins, intended to be a ranged unit, were anything but effective.
Karina didn't even flinch. Instead, she advanced slowly, her every step mocking their incompetence. Each failed shot only added to the mounting dread in the goblins' hearts. They may have had numbers, but they lacked skill—and worse, they lacked understanding of the terror that was bearing down on them.
Although Karina tried never to underestimate her opponents, she found herself doing just that with these goblins. Amidst the barrage of stones that lazily arced through the sky, one projectile flew further than the rest. It cut through the air with a pointed tip and a long body, its slight feathering at the back stabilizing its flight.
This was no ordinary rock. The projectile revealed itself as it closed the distance—a makeshift arrow with a crudely sharpened rock as its head. Unlike the stones that clattered harmlessly to the ground, this arrow was different. The goblins, lacking the finesse of true archers, had nonetheless managed to create a rudimentary but dangerous weapon.
The arrow sailed toward Karina and Figmond, unnoticed until it struck the ground with a loud, decisive thud. The sound snapped Karina's attention away from the goblins, and she quickly spotted the arrow embedded in the earth just meters away. Instinctively, she knew what that meant—a sign of something more threatening on the horizon.
Reacting swiftly, Karina's eyes darted upward, scanning the horizon for the source of the attack. Her calm, methodical steps turned into a cautious retreat.
"Figmond, get the horse behind the carriage!" she yelled, urgency lacing her voice.
Figmond snapped to attention, his earlier calm shattered by the sudden danger. As he moved to guide the horse to safety, Karina's gaze locked onto the sky, where several more arrows—ten or more—arced toward them.
The arrows descended rapidly, some missing them by a wide margin, while others thudded into the thick wood of their carriage with a solid thunk. Karina took cover behind the carriage, out of the line of fire, as the arrows peppered the area around them. One arrow landed perilously close to her leg, embedding itself into the ground.
She grabbed the arrow and inspected it closely. It was crudely fashioned, not entirely straight, with a poorly carved shaft and a rough, sharpened stone for a tip. "These are poorly made," she mused aloud, her eyes narrowing as she analyzed the situation. "Perhaps they don't have many left. Figmond, now's your time to shine. I brought one!"
"You what?! Hold on a second, you know it was just hunting, and I was 8!" Figmond exclaimed, disbelief coloring his voice as he glanced over his shoulder at Karina.
Karina met his gaze and nodded, a steady, reassuring gesture that conveyed her confidence in him. It was a nod that said, You can do this. Figmond let out a sigh, his expression shifting from anxiety to resolve. He knew there was no turning back now.
With a determined nod of his own, Figmond readied himself. Karina quickly darted into the carriage, rummaging through their supplies. After a brief moment, she emerged, clutching a hunter's bow and a leather quiver carrying a dozen well-crafted arrows.
Figmond took the bow, feeling the weight of it in his hands. The smooth wood was a far cry from the crude weapons the goblins wielded. He felt a surge of confidence as he grasped the quiver, slinging it over his shoulder. The arrows were straight and true, designed for precision.
This wasn't the game hunting of his childhood. This was survival. The fear in his chest slowly transformed into a focused determination. He could feel Karina's eyes on him, trusting him to step up. As he nocked the first arrow, he took a deep breath, steadying his hands.
"Alright," Figmond muttered to himself, "let's see if I remember how this goes." He drew the bowstring back, the tension thrumming in his fingers as he aimed toward the source of the goblin arrows. His breath steadied, and with a sharp exhale, he released. The arrow flew straight, cutting through the air toward the goblins in the distance.
Status de energia semanal
-- Ranking de
Poder 
-- Pedra de
Poder