"Shit!" Rynar casually swung his shield-wielding left arm, swatting away a crude arrow made of twigs and flint.
"You really think you have the guts, huh?!" Annoyed, Rynar reached into his system inventory and pulled out a one-meter-long wooden throwing spear. He had commissioned refugees to carve these for him. Given his pitiful archery skills, even at the level of a Grand Knight, Rynar was better suited for powerful throwing weapons like javelins. However, since javelins were not easily retrievable (and he was too lazy to fetch them), Rynar cleverly proposed wooden throwing spears! These were no crude troll weapons—Rynar's spears were made from carefully selected hardwood, shaped with a thick center tapering to both ends, then fire-hardened for added durability, and finally, meticulously polished smooth. Aside from the labor cost, they were nearly as effective as iron javelins—at least, at close range.
"Whoosh!" Wrapped in battle aura, the javelin flew from Rynar's powerful arms.
"Awooo—guh!" A piercing scream was quickly followed by the sound of desperate, gasping breaths. The victim was clearly taking in more air than they were letting out.
"Hey! This javelin technique is pretty damn good!" Rynar grinned, nodding in satisfaction. No wonder it was one of the rare long-range skills available to knights. With this skill, Rynar could clearly sense an invisible guiding line between himself and his target, ensuring a high probability of hitting as long as he aimed along that path.
"Not bad, Your Highness! You're learning fast!" Omsk praised him. Rynar's talent was indeed impressive.
What? Rynar didn't know how to throw javelins before? And he couldn't learn them without the Knight's Hall skill inheritance? Just look at the two men beside him—Fourth-Tier Dragon Knight Caslow and Sixth-Tier Light and Shadow Hero Omsk! With them around, Rynar had access to every foundational knight skill. They were practically walking skill instructors from the Knight's Hall.
"Heh heh heh, if it weren't for the endless supply of goblins along the way giving me practice, I wouldn't have gotten this proficient," Rynar chuckled. Real combat was the best teacher. This was where wooden spears proved invaluable—no need for retrieval! Even if the enemy picked them up, they were useless. The impact force combined with battle aura would cause them to splinter on contact, delivering secondary damage while preventing them from being repurposed. (At this moment, a certain bald-headed headmaster looked up: "Logistics? Now that's something I know about!")
"Kneel!" A furious shout snapped Rynar's attention back.
"What's going on, my soldiers?" Rynar looked curiously at several goblins, bound tightly with vines and dragged before him.
"Your Highness! These scum just attacked you! These are the ones who didn't escape!" A furious Lordaeron Ranger spoke, bringing in the captured goblins alongside his fellow rangers.
"Oh? Attack? That counts?" Rynar recalled the pitiful excuse for an "arrow" that had just been fired at him.
"Alright, I'll interrogate them." Rynar dismounted. He didn't want to waste the goodwill of his subordinates. Though, personally, he thought executing them all would be more efficient, but in the spirit of humanitarianism, he decided to give the goblins a chance.
"Perhaps one of you is willing to tell me where you come from? Why did you attack me? Where is your tribe? Hmm?" Rynar addressed the prisoners.
"@#*%￥…" One of the goblins, seemingly a leader, immediately began struggling and cursing loudly. Although Rynar didn't understand Goblin, he could tell that the language was quite… colorful. The rest of the goblins quickly joined in, shouting profanities.
"SMACK!" A loud crack startled Caslow and Omsk.
A round goblin head arced gracefully through the air before landing with a thud, promptly kicked aside by a soldier. The headless corpse spewed twin jets of black blood, spraying half a meter high. The lingering battle aura on Rynar's palm made it clear that he had just slapped the unfortunate creature's head clean off.
(Goblin: "Do you have any idea how much of a trauma it is for a goblin to lose in a fight like this? My head is literally gone!")
"Foul-mouthed? Very well! Gag them!" Rynar sneered.
The surrounding soldiers quickly stuffed cloth into the goblins' mouths to prevent Rynar from being further offended.
"Sigh… Even someone as kind and approachable as me isn't respected by you lot. Don't you know I am the King of Zaltarion, known as a Friend of the Half-Orc Royalty, and a Troll's Sworn Brother from Another Mother? Can't we have a little more honesty and a little less hostility?" Rynar drew his Dragon-Slaying Sword earnestly.
"It seems you refuse to speak?" A cold glint flashed in Rynar's eyes.
"Swish!" A flash of sword light, and a goblin's legs were severed.
"Mmmph!" The intense pain sent the unfortunate creature into a violent struggle, writhing like a maggot.
"A tough guy! Good! I respect warriors like you! You deserve a reward!" As a sign of admiration, Rynar promptly beheaded the goblin.
"Hiss—" Caslow and Omsk exchanged glances, each seeing fear in the other's eyes.
"And what about you? Will you talk?" Rynar placed his bloodless blade on the next goblin's shoulder, his expression all too friendly.
"Mmmph!" This goblin's eyes turned bloodshot, its body writhing frantically, legs kicking wildly.
"Oh, playful, huh? Swish!" Rynar chuckled and with a flick of his wrist, severed its legs.
"Mmmph!"
Seeing that the goblin still refused to talk, Rynar's brow twitched. Hey, all hard nuts to crack? I like that! Rynar had always respected the loyalty and steadfastness of warriors!
Another swift stroke, and the goblin became a "goblin stick," bleeding profusely from every severed limb.
"Sigh… I must say, I'm impressed! Even goblins have such strong backbones! This moves me! They're so much more honorable than the traitors and sellouts of my past life!" Rynar sighed in admiration. Who would have thought that the goblins he once despised would display such courage?
"Since that's the case, I shall grant you the honor of dying by my blade!" With solemn respect, Rynar cleaved the goblin in half.
"Damn it! I cut at an angle! Why were you squirming?! Look! Look at this mess! Alright, alright, don't panic! I'll fix it! Stay still!" Rynar chastised as he moved in to deliver a finishing strike.
"Grrr!" A deep, guttural sound escaped the goblin's throat, startling everyone. Since when could goblins make such a sound?
"Uh… Sorry about that… I messed up again. Just hold still, I promise I'll give you the highest honor, a proper beheading!" Rynar awkwardly reassured the half-dismembered goblin.
Caslow and Omsk shivered. They had seen saints in their lifetime, but this was the first time they had met a living demon.
At that moment, Baron Barin, who had come to spectate, choked on his beer, spraying it everywhere. Even the Royal Guards subtly edged away from Rynar.
"Hey, Your Highness, have you considered… just maybe… that they're not talking because their mouths are gagged?" Caslow hesitantly pointed out.
Rynar froze. Slowly, he turned his head toward Caslow.
"..."
Everyone fell silent, their eyes shifting toward the bound and twitching goblins.
"The hell are you all looking at me for?! If their mouths were stuffed, couldn't they have written something down?!" Rynar bristled, unwilling to accept blame.
But as all eyes drifted toward the thoroughly restrained corpses, another eerie silence fell.
Barin coughed awkwardly, "Well… I gotta admit, it's impressive they could still struggle like that…"