Ch 11
Matt woke to the sound of Emily screaming. He leaped to his feet and looked around to see nearly twenty goblins charging at them. Instantly, his fight-or-flight instincts kicked in, and he thought that fleeing must be the only option. But then he noticed Emily trembling as she stood with her back to him, even as the redheaded swordswoman charged in with reckless abandon. That fierce determination stirred something deep within him. He swiftly yanked the rabbit’s horn from his belt, gripping it tightly in his right hand while drawing one of his stone cutting tools in his left, before surging forward into the fray.
The first goblin he struck fell instantly from a swift, precise blow to its head. However, the effort slowed him just enough that he couldn’t avoid the next goblin’s assault. Desperately, he deflected its crude club with his forearm—a jolt of searing pain bolting up his arm—but he pressed on, driving the rabbit’s horn deep into the creature’s eye socket. Wrenching the horn free proved more difficult than he’d anticipated, as it yanked the screaming goblin into the air.
In the midst of the chaos, another goblin charged him. Without missing a beat, Matt swung the horn downward, bashing one goblin into another. Thankfully, this maneuver dislodged the horn. He quickly stamped his boot onto a foe’s throat, then swung his left arm to deliver a crushing blow to another goblin’s head with his cutting tool. Unfortunately, that goblin was mid-swing with its club, and as it released the weapon, the momentum sent it crashing directly into Matt’s face.
A cry of agony escaped him as his nose shattered, blood spurting down his face. Still, he kept his footing and, fighting through the pain, managed to ram the rabbit’s horn into the ear of yet another goblin. By that point, the goblin who’d lost its eye staggered to its feet, shrieking as it tried to flee. Undeterred, Matt closed the gap in just five strides, ending its flight with a savage blow to its head with his cutting tool. Amid the roaring chaos, he couldn’t tell if his strikes were merely stunning his foes or truly killing them, as screams and battle cries filled the air while the women struggled desperately to survive.
He had assumed they would have at least one more day to prepare, but clearly that was not the case. The goblins had come in overwhelming force, intent on their destruction, and Matt struggled to understand where his plans had faltered. Even if the smallest goblin had scurried off to alert its kin, their pursuit should have taken longer than a single day to unfold. Deep down, Matt knew he must have missed something crucial, and his mind raced with questions as his body instinctively shifted into autopilot.
Then, his eyes fixed on a heart-wrenching sight: the redheaded sword-wielder faltered and fell, collapsing as one of the goblins splashed a mysterious substance across her face. In that split second, Matt recalled the contents of the water skins and wondered if they were never meant for drinking at all, but rather were some kind of potent drug. Moments later, another piercing scream shattered the tumult, as the overweight staff-wielder crumpled to the ground while four gleeful goblins restrained her. Simultaneously, Matt dispatched another goblin that dared to intrude into his sphere of control, momentarily diverting his attention from the women, only to be met with yet another scream—this time from the bow-wielder, who was struggling desperately against three vicious goblins.
Things were getting worse; what had initially felt like 20 goblins now seemed like 40. Despite their best efforts, Matt and the women were being overwhelmed. Once more, his fight-or-flight instincts kicked in as he charged towards the bow wielder, taking down three more goblins along the way. However, by the time he arrived, the goblins already had her down, appearing to waterboard her with one of their water skins. Matt swiftly killed the three that had her restrained, but the damage was done, as she was unresponsive when he looked down at her, her eyes vacant and lifeless.
Once more, a scream jolted him from his thoughts as he watched Emily go down, and the world went red. Suddenly, nothing mattered to him as he moved and killed with relentless fury: one goblin, two goblins, three goblins. Matt didn't even try to count as he pushed his body well past its limits, driven by a surge of adrenaline and desperation. However, it was meaningless, as the goblins stopped trying to fight him once Eleanor and the other sword wielder had been subdued. If he had accomplished anything, it was planting the seeds of terror in the hearts of the goblins as they fled with their captured prizes.
Matt tried to follow, but at some point, he had injured both his legs and couldn't run. Instead, he fell forward when he tried, and by the time he made it back to his feet, he was alone, surrounded only by the injured, dying, and dead goblins. Feeling that he should at least finish them off, he hobbled over to each one, slaughtering them without mercy. As he did so, he felt a part of himself break, slumping to the ground after finishing the last one off and receiving a series of notifications awarding him experience for the gruesome deeds he had just committed.
Monsters killed: 15 level 3 goblins.
Base experience multiplied by three.
Awarding 193 experience.
Current experience to next level 916/1000.
Kill more things while in a rage if you wish to pursue a path of wrath.
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
Monsters killed: 6 level 4 goblins.
Base experience multiplied by four.
Awarding 103 experience.
Current experience to next level 1019/1000.
Kill more things while in a rage if you wish to pursue a path of wrath.
Experience has reached threshold prepare to level up!
Matt felt as though his entire body was ablaze, experiencing the correction of every injury he had sustained since his arrival. Simultaneously, he noticed all his senses sharpening as he received another message.
Matthew Pierce.
Level 2
Strength: 11
Dexterity: 7
Durability: 7
Stamina: 9
Spirit: 8
Mind: 5
Species Human (H)
Bloodline: (Not evaluated at this level)
Path: None
Titles: Integrated
Skills: Auto translate
No path detected: increasing all stats by one due to the lack of path.
If you wish to specialize in certain areas, select a path.
Available paths…
As the pain faded away, Matt glanced at the stubborn message that hadn’t cleared on its own, noticing far more path options than the meager choices offered at the beginning of this ordeal. None of these new routes came with any proper description, so he mentally dismissed the message and focused on what felt like the correct next move. Before leveling up, despair had gnawed at him from his inability to give chase; now, however, leveling up appeared to have brought a complete heal, a phenomenon that left him briefly puzzled even as he realized he didn’t have time to dwell on its meaning—especially when the goblins already had at least a twenty-minute head start.
Fortunately, the path ahead was unmistakably marked, for the goblins had been running with a singular focus on speed. Yet, the realization that even after killing 21 goblins there were still enough left to carry off six women told Matt he was up against a significant force. If he assumed that it took at least four goblins per captive, that would suggest 24 attackers, though it was equally plausible that 12 hobgoblins had been deployed to transport them—a theory bolstered by his observation that not a single of the goblin variant had mixed into the melee.
As Matt mulled over these possibilities, he soon encountered the first obstacle in his path. His hunch about the hobgoblins sticking back as muscle proved correct—they were there to carry the women. However, they had miscalculated; two of them were struggling to move Maria while four other goblins kept vigilant guard. Just as Matt was about to spring into action, he recalled that each of the women had been drugged, and rescuing Maria prematurely might thwart any hope of saving the rest. Grateful for the brief window of opportunity, he managed to avoid detection while quickly weighing his options.
Deciding not to rush in recklessly, Matt slipped off to the side and then pushed forward, determined to catch up with the leading group. His plan was to confront each advancing group and rescue the women, or at the very least, reach a threshold of saving three. With that goal in mind, he edged past one group of five to six combined goblins and hobgoblins after another until he finally caught up with the group fleeing while carrying the redheaded sword-wielder. Summoning every ounce of resolve, he charged in.
His first strike did not catch the enemy off-guard—after all, he made no effort to be quiet—but the raw terror in the goblins’ eyes was proof enough of his sudden and fierce presence. In an instant, the first goblin fell; two others scampered away in a screech as the two hobgoblins dropped their captive and lunged at him. Without a moment’s hesitation, Matt drove the rabbit horn into one goblin’s throat and, in a swift exchange, traded a blow to an opponent’s arm for a clean strike to the other’s temple with his long-dulled cutting tool. His decisive action came just in time, allowing him to pivot and meet the advancing group carrying the bow-wielder as they charged into the fray.
Unlike the previous group, none of these goblins fled, and noticing that there were six goblins alongside two hobgoblins, he deduced that the two deserters had likely joined their ranks. A sinister grin spread across all eight faces as they slowly closed in on him after dropping the bow wielder, sending his guard into overdrive. This was the inherent flaw of his fighting style: while he thrived when he could flow with the chaos of battle, the long lull before the fight truly began was maddening. To make matters worse, he was painfully aware that he had no more than thirty seconds before another group of six arrived to reinforce them. Yet, his instincts vehemently warned him against rushing the current skirmish, prompting him to quickly analyze his options.
Then, just as the next group emerged into view, Matt’s senses locked onto one hobgoblin turning its head, and in that split second, he attacked. The speed of his assault was such that he struck before the hobgoblin could even react, though the remaining seven quickly closed ranks around him. In one fluid motion, Matt pivoted around the fallen foe he had just struck, using its body as a makeshift shield against attacks from all sides except the goblins directly on his left and right. Those on his flanks required swift action or he would be in trouble so, with a forceful kick, he sent one of their clubs crashing back into its wielder’s face, narrowly evading another blow, before slamming his rabbit horn weapon into the other goblin’s skull with all his might.
As the goblin with the impaled brain collapsed, Matt advanced, kicking its limp body into another enemy, only to soon find himself face-to-face with the second hobgoblin in the group. This time, a wry smile crept across his face as he goaded the hobgoblin into an overzealous overhead smash—a move that inadvertently struck a goblin still reeling from being knocked over by their fallen comrade. The ensuing squashing sound was oddly satisfying, and taking full advantage of the moment, Matt drove his rabbit horn deep into the hobgoblin’s skull at precisely the same spot he had targeted before. Instead of shattering the skull outright, he watched with grim fascination as a two-inch fragment of the horn broke off, then delivered a heavy blow that cracked the remaining skull apart.
For a fleeting moment, time appeared to freeze as Matt’s body and mind scrambled to process the unfolding chaos. Crucial seconds slipped away when he briefly lost the rhythm of battle, nearly immobilized as another goblin lunged at him. Still, he managed to dodge, hurling the broken horn fragment at the charging attacker while swiftly pulling out his second cutting tool. With a weary sigh, he resigned himself to yet another brutal struggle for survival—a fight that demanded he save others even as every fiber of his being longed to run.
