Previously in Reincarnation of the magicless Pinoy!
Rolien and the Asher Hawks riding hard. The sun's starting to sink, the border still a thin dark line on the horizon. Everyone's alert — there's no banter now, only the sound of horses and the clink of weapons.
Tessa is scanning ahead like a hawk.
Ren is weaving through the brush, occasionally disappearing into the treeline before reappearing to report.
Solis is keeping his magic close, but there's a shimmer in the air every time the wind changes — he's sensing something off.
Braggs rides like a wall on horseback, eyes flicking between Rolien and the treeline.
Rolien, calm but sharp-eyed, is the center of it all. He doesn't look tense — but the way his hand rests lightly on the hilt at his side says otherwise.
meters back, hugging the shadows of the terrain. He's keeping low, sometimes even dropping from his saddle to use a slope as cover before remounting. The memory of the beaten scouts flashes in his head — Rolien dismantling them without a weapon, moving like he was born for it.
Luke mutters under his breath:
> "This bastard… is he really human?"
A bead of sweat slides down his temple as Rolien's head shifts slightly — almost like he felt Luke. Luke freezes, barely breathing, until Rolien's gaze moves forward again. He retreats another 50 meters just to be safe.
Encounter 15 : at Boundary!
The Asher Hawks slow down as the land changes — the grass grows shorter, the wind sharper, and an unnatural stillness settles in. The Valkarian border markers rise ahead: old stone pillars etched with runes, half-buried in moss.
Tessa lifts a hand for the group to halt. Ren moves ahead to scout the markers… and freezes.
Ren: "We've got fresh tracks. Multiple boots. Heavy armor. Not ours."
Solis' staff hums faintly. "Magic residue too… high concentration. They were here less than an hour ago."
Rolien dismounts slowly, scanning the distance. He kneels, touching the dirt, then glances toward the Valkarian side — the setting sun glinting off something metallic far ahead.
Tessa: "Orders?"
Rolien grips his weapon — and the next sound we hear is a distant horn blast from the Valkarian side.
Fade out.
Reincarnation of the magicless Pinoy!
From zero to hero! " No magic No problem!"
Encounter:
The goblins roared as they surged forward, their feet pounding the dry earth. The air was thick with the stink of sweat, metal, and old blood.
Luke's eyes locked on the center of the Hawks' formation. Rolien stood there, calm as ever, blade in hand.
> "This is it," Luke muttered. "Let's see what the 'magicless boy' can do against a monster."
The Goblin Champion let out a guttural roar and charged, each step shaking the ground.
CLANG!
Steel met steel in a thunderous collision. Sparks burst in the air as "Rolien" caught the cleaver with his sword, twisting to push the Champion's weapon aside. He flowed forward, slashing at its knee — the Champion staggered but didn't fall.
"Fast…" Luke murmured, leaning on his saddle horn, eyes tracking every move.
But something was… off.
"Rolien" fought well, yes — but there was no precision in his footwork. No deadly stillness before each strike. This one was more flashy, more… human.
---
Rowan's POV – 50 meters away, in the shadows of the ridge.
The real Rolien crouched low, his black cloak blending with the rock. His presence was buried so deep it was as if he didn't exist.
His eyes followed the Champion's lieutenants — two massive goblin brutes hiding at the rear, waiting to flank the Hawks once the fight dragged on.
Rowan whispered into the communicator rune at his collar, "Decoy's holding attention. I'll gut the back line."
Without a sound, he moved. One step — and he was gone, a shadow streaking across the ridge.
---
Fight Scene – Luke's perspective (watching the decoy)
The Champion swung in a massive arc, forcing "Rolien" to duck low. Braggs, the Hawks' tank, slammed his shield into another goblin that tried to get through. Solis sent out bursts of flame to keep the horde at bay, but the green tide kept pushing in.
"Rolien" vaulted over the Champion's next swing, blade flashing toward its neck — CLANG! The cleaver met him mid-air, knocking him sideways into the dirt.
The goblins screamed in triumph, piling in.
---
Fight Scene – Rowan's perspective
A goblin brute turned its head — and saw nothing. Then pain bloomed in its throat as a black blade slid clean through. Rowan didn't stop to watch it fall.
The second brute barely raised its weapon before Rowan's heel smashed into its knee, breaking it backward. His sword found its heart in the same motion.
> "Two down," he muttered. "Champion's yours, Tessa."
He flicked the blood from his blade and looked toward the Hawks' fight — just in time to see the Champion grab the decoy Rolien by the throat.
From Luke's vantage, dust and screams filled the air. He leaned forward, desperate to see how Rolien would escape the Champion's grip —
Then the real Rolien stepped from the ridge into the battlefield.
Luke's breath caught.
> "Wait… then who the hell have I been watching?"
Rowan's eyes locked on the Champion.
And the Champion… actually stepped back.
The stench of blood and rot filled the forest clearing. Goblin shrieks echoed between the trees, mixing with the clash of steel and the hiss of magic.
Rowan—hidden beneath the Black Wraith mask—moved like a phantom. In his hand, a single black-forged sword caught the faint moonlight, its edge sharp enough to hum with every swing. He circled the towering goblin champion, boots crunching over broken twigs and scattered bones.
The champion stood over eight feet tall, muscles roped with veins, crude iron armor hanging from its chest. Its jagged cleaver could split a tree in two, but Rowan's blade intercepted each swing with precise, almost surgical movements. He didn't waste a single step—slipping past the monster's reach, cutting tendons, forcing it to bleed slow.
The goblin roared, slamming its cleaver into the earth with a ground-shaking crack. Dirt and rock exploded upward, but Rowan was already gone—sliding to its flank and driving his sword deep into its ribs. Black blood sprayed, sizzling as it hit the cold air.
Meanwhile, the rest of the battlefield was chaos.
Pete—dressed as Rolien, his stance stiff but determined—fought alongside Tessa, Bragg, Ren, and Solis. They carved through the smaller goblins, keeping their formation tight. Bragg's shield smashed one into the dirt, while Solis's fire bolts turned clusters into burning husks. Ren darted between shadows, blades flashing in quick, surgical strikes.
"Left flank! Hold!" Tessa barked, cutting down two more. "Pete—cover Bragg!"
"On it!" Pete shouted, parrying a spear before driving his sword into a goblin's throat.
From the treeline, Luke kept low, staying three hundred meters back—just outside Rowan's terrifying detection range. He'd seen what happened to the scouts who'd gotten too close: they never stood a chance.
Luke's eyes narrowed, tracking the fight. "That's him… the real one."
The goblin champion let out a bone-shaking roar, swinging its cleaver in a deadly arc. Rowan stepped inside the swing, his single sword moving in a blur, catching the blow and locking the blade just inches from his head. Sparks burst between steel. Neither gave way.
Beyond them, the forest opened into a shadowed path. At the far end, the faint glow of Valkaria's border fires flickered in the night.
Luke's pulse quickened.
They were about to cross it.
The goblin champion roared, spit flying from its jagged teeth as it hefted its cleaver for another brutal swing.
Rowan didn't flinch. His single black blade tilted ever so slightly in his grip, catching a glint of moonlight along its edge.
The champion lunged.
Rowan stepped aside with ghost-like precision, letting the monster's own momentum drag it forward. In the same motion, his sword slashed upward in a clean diagonal—severing the champion's wrist. The cleaver clanged into the dirt.
The beast howled in pain, swiping with its other claw, but Rowan dipped under the strike, twisted on his heel, and drove his blade upward through the soft flesh beneath its chin. The point erupted from the top of its skull.
Silence.
Then the goblin champion fell, its massive body crashing to the ground.
Rowan exhaled once, slow and controlled. He yanked the blade free in one smooth motion, the edge still dripping black blood.
Without looking down, he spun the sword in a quick half-circle, flicking the gore from it in an elegant, practiced motion. Then—just like a wandering ronin—he dragged the flat of the blade across his forearm guard to clean the remaining stains before sliding it into the scabbard with a crisp click.
A faint shimmer of golden light swirled around him, sinking into his skin.
> [System Notification]
Rare Achievement Unlocked: "Champion Slayer" — Defeat a Goblin Champion in single combat without receiving damage.
Bonus: +5 to all Physical Stats.
Title Granted: "Hunter of Kings"
At Rowan's feet, the champion's corpse dissolved into shimmering particles, leaving its spoils behind.
> Loot Acquired:
– Cleaver of the Ravager (Epic) — Brutal power, poor balance.
– Champion's Heart (Rare Material) — Enhances vitality in forging/alchemy.
– 1,250 Gold Coins.
He stooped briefly, inspecting the cleaver, then tucked it away along with the warm, pulsing heart.
Behind him, goblin screams faded as the Asher Hawks and Pete wiped out the remaining swarm.
From the treeline, Luke's eyes narrowed. He'd just seen it—the speed, the precision, the complete lack of wasted motion.
Rowan's head turned ever so slightly toward the trees.
Luke froze.
"…Tch—did he sense me?" he muttered, easing back a few steps to stay out of that terrifying detection range.
Rowan said nothing, only mounting his horse in one fluid motion. The Asher Hawks regrouped, and together, they rode toward the faint red glow in the distance.
The border of Valkaria was just beyond the next ridge.
And Luke knew—once they crossed it, there would be no turning back.
Luke slowly backed away from the ridge, keeping his eyes on the distant riders. He moved carefully, boots sinking into the damp earth until the treeline swallowed him whole.
Down the slope, hidden in a thicket of bushes, his horse waited where he had left it. The animal snorted softly as he mounted, and Luke took one last look toward the border.
"Tch," he muttered under his breath, tightening the reins. "That bastard is teaming up with the Greys… That explains how that brat got his combat skill and earth tech knowledge. I need to discuss this with the prince—and with Father. We'll plan our next move."
The sound of hooves faded as he disappeared into the night, heading back toward Arcadia Estate.
---
Back to Rolien
Rowan—known to the world as the Black Wraith—tilted his head slightly, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "What a sly bastard," he murmured. "It's hard to shake him off."
Tessa, riding beside him, caught the words. "Hey, young master… I mean, Rowan—Black Wraith—he gone now?"
"Yeah. I think for now," Rolien replied, his voice calm but certain. "He finally gave up following us."
Pete—still disguised as "Rolien"—let out an exaggerated sigh of relief. "Man, that friend of yours is really hard to shake. He's like a leech wanting to suck our blood dry."
Solis chuckled, Bragg letting out a deep rumble of agreement. "Yeah. Those noble brats are always like that," Solis said. "They're quick to dig for weaknesses they can exploit."
"Heh," Rolien gave a small laugh, "but he wasn't my friend. Let's just say… he's an old enemy. Like an ex-girlfriend refusing to give up."
Tessa laughed, shaking her head. "So… we go now?"
"Yeah. We can keep our pace normal now that he's not on our tail."
"Got it," Ren called from the front.
Pete raised a hand to his hair. "Hey, young master, can I take off this wig and face changer now?"
"No!" Tessa and Solis said at the same time.
Rolien smirked. "Not until we cross that mountain."
With that, the group eased into a steady pace. The horses' hooves drummed against the dirt road—not fast, but unhurried. The chase was over, for now. The night was calm, and the only sound was the quiet rhythm of riders moving toward the shadow of the Valkarian peaks.
The narrow mountain pass stretched ahead, moonlight spilling over jagged rocks. The cold air bit at their faces as the Asher Hawks kept their mounts steady, hooves clopping on the uneven path.
Above, the wind carried faint howls—wolves or maybe just the mountain playing tricks.
They kept their voices low, but the quiet between them was easy.
"Rowan," Tessa finally said, glancing sideways at him, "I still can't believe our Black Wraith is actually the youngest son of a Grand Duke." She shook her head slowly, a half-smile on her lips.
"Yeah," Solis chuckled from behind, "the moment you changed your hair to black, we squinted so hard I thought my eyes would fall out. That reveal… damn."
Bragg let out a booming laugh. "Yeah, even my jaw hit the floor!"
Rowan smirked faintly, adjusting his reins.
"But seriously," Tessa leaned a little closer, "why keep Rowan and 'young master' as two different people? Why the double life?"
His gaze stayed ahead on the winding trail. "Well… Luke is one reason. But the bigger reason—the person behind him. There are too many mysteries tied to that man. If I want to move without raising suspicion or getting branded a traitor, I have to keep this up. And Luke Arcadia…" His tone hardened, "that man's as cunning as they come. Who knows what he's planning next?"
The wind rose again, whistling between stone peaks.
Pete, still in his disguise, glanced over his shoulder at the shadows behind them. "Well, whatever he's planning, he's not here now."
Rowan's eyes narrowed slightly, scanning the darkness beyond the pass. "Maybe."
Somewhere, faint and far off, a rock clattered down the slope. Too deliberate to be the wind.
Rowan's gaze snapped to the east.
Smoke.
Not the thin, lazy kind from cooking fires—this was black, churning, and fast-rising. The kind that only meant one thing.
Ren was the first to speak. "That's coming from the valley village. About twenty minutes downhill."
Rowan's expression turned grim. "Fucking goblins…" His voice was low but sharp. Then louder, to the group: "Guys, get ready—we're having round two with these bastards!"
Tessa already had her bow unslung. Solis started murmuring a short incantation, magic flickering at his fingertips. Bragg rolled his shoulders, tightening his grip on the hammer strapped to his back.
Pete groaned. "You mean more goblins? I'm still sore from last time!"
"No time for whining," Rowan said as he spurred his horse into a gallop. "We move—now!"
They thundered down the slope, the path widening as the wind carried with it faint screams from below.
By the time they reached the lower ridge, they saw them—scores of goblins pouring through the fields, flames licking the wooden fences of the village. Women and children ran for the well's stone cover while a few desperate men tried to hold the monsters back with pitchforks and rusty blades.
And then the ground seemed to shift. Something huge stepped forward from behind the smaller goblins. A hulking figure, its skin darker and its eyes burning like embers. Nearly twice the size of the rest, with jagged bone armor strapped to its chest.
Ren's voice went tight. "That's… a Hob Goblin Champion."
At that moment, Rowan's vision pulsed—
> [System Notification]
Quest Generated: Defend the village of Varnstead
Objectives:
– Defeat the Goblin Horde (0/72)
– Slay the Hob Goblin Champion (0/1)
– Ensure at least 80% of villagers survive
Rewards:
– Rare-grade Weapon Chest (Bound)
– 3x Attribute Points
– Unique Skill Scroll (Random Tier)
– Title: "Village's Shield"
A slow smile spread across Rowan's face as he dismounted, drawing his blade.
"Looks like this night just got interesting."
The Hob Goblin Champion roared, slamming its spiked club into the ground—sending a shiver through the earth. The smaller goblins screamed in answer, rushing the village in a tide of teeth and claws.
Rowan tightened his grip, the steel singing as it left the sheath.
"Alright…" He breathed out, stepping forward into the chaos.
To be continued..