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The shaman tried to rally them, shrieking in their guttural tongue. Auren heard it as cowardice wrapped in ritual. He didn't rush him—he wanted the fear to spread. He simply pointed, letting the shaman see the corpses littering the ground, the prisoners staring with wide, horrified eyes, the shadows curling around him like snakes.
The shaman faltered. That was enough. Auren crossed the distance in a blink, his dagger slashing the bone crown from the goblin's head. "Pray to your gods," he said softly. "They won't answer." Then he opened the shaman's throat in one clean cut, stepping back as its lifeblood pumped in erratic spurts.
The last few goblins broke. They turned to flee toward the deeper tunnels, but Riven was there, his sword a wall of steel. The first had its skull split; the second's head flew free, tumbling end over end. The third tried to duck past him and found Auren waiting.
"Going somewhere?" Auren asked, and when it screeched, he shoved a dagger through its eye.
Silence fell—broken only by the drip of blood from weapons to dirt.
The prisoners were still staring, breathing hard, their bodies trembling in the ropes. Some had fresh wounds, others old scars. One man's eyes flicked between Auren and Riven like he wasn't sure which was the greater danger.
Riven was already at the stakes, cutting bonds with quick, efficient slashes. "You're free," he said gruffly. "Get moving before more of these vermin crawl out of the dark."
Auren joined him, though his eyes kept scanning the nest. His aura still lingered, keeping the released prisoners from panicking into stupidity. "If they come back," he said without looking at them, "they'll find nothing but their own graves waiting."
One woman collapsed at their feet, too weak to stand. Riven hauled her up without ceremony and shoved her toward the others. "Go."
The group stumbled toward the tunnel, guided by torchlight. Auren and Riven trailed behind them, weapons still wet.
As they reached the outer cavern, Riven broke the silence. "That's almost the whole tribe."
Auren gave a slow, humorless smile. "Almost."
A rustle echoed from a side tunnel. Two goblins—likely scouts—skulked into view. They froze at the sight of the bodies, the prisoners, the two human killers standing in the gore.
Riven started forward, but Auren caught his arm. "Leave them," he said.
"Why?"
Auren leaned close enough that the goblins could hear the edge in his voice. "Let them carry the story. Let every filthy hole in this forest know that Central doesn't belong to them."
The scouts bolted into the dark.
When they finally emerged into the night air, the prisoners scattered toward the distant lights of Central. Auren wiped his blades clean in the grass, the metallic tang of goblin blood still in the back of his throat.
Riven glanced at him. "You didn't hold back in there."
Auren sheathed his daggers. "They didn't deserve mercy. Not after what they did." His eyes lingered on the treeline, his voice dropping lower. "Besides… I wanted them to understand something."
Riven snorted. "That you're a monster?"
Auren's lips twitched into a faint smirk. "That I'm worse than they are."
The air in the goblin nest was heavy with iron and rot. Auren and Riven had just finished cutting through the last screaming wretch when a deep, guttural roar vibrated through the cavern.
From the far end of the pit, the shadows pulled back like a curtain to reveal it. The Hobgoblin Leader—twelve feet of scarred, green muscle and jagged teeth. His eyes burned like coals.
"Big one," Riven muttered, tightening his grip on the sword.
Auren smirked, the corner of his mouth curling with hunger for the fight. "Big corpse in a minute."
The beast charged, swinging a cleaver the size of a door. The first blow cracked the stone under Riven's feet as he barely deflected it.
Auren stepped in, voice like a knife in the dark. "Shadow of Submission." The air thickened, pressing on the hobgoblin's mind like a predator's breath. The giant flinched.
Riven used the moment, slashing across the thigh, black blood spraying hot and foul. The hobgoblin snarled, but before it could react, Auren's gaze locked onto it. Dominator's Gaze. The massive form froze, tendons trembling, eyes wide.
"Cut," Auren commanded.
Steel met flesh again and again until the hobgoblin's body fell in mangled heaps.
"That's it?" Riven asked, panting.
The ground answered—shaking violently beneath them.
From the gore, the hobgoblin's limbs began crawling back, pulling themselves together. But this time, it wasn't just his flesh—it was the corpses of the smaller goblins, their bodies twisting and merging into him, forming armor-like plates over bulging muscle.
The leader stood again, now twenty feet tall, a wall of meat and rage.
"…Okay, that's new," Riven muttered.
Auren's tone was calm, almost entertained. "New means he hasn't tested it enough. That's our advantage."
They lunged again. The fight was a storm—steel flashing, shadows binding, flesh splitting only to knit back together.
"This is pointless, Auren! He's just going to keep merging!" Riven shouted, dodging a fist that cratered the ground.
"Then we stop giving him the chance." Auren's eyes burned. "Your speed. My lock. Seven seconds. That's all you get to make him nothing but parts."
"That's enough," Riven growled.
Auren's voice cut through the chaos: "Dominator's Gaze!"
The beast stiffened, every muscle screaming against the invisible command.
"Go!"
Riven blurred forward, every ounce of strength and fury behind each cut. Limbs fell, tendons snapped, chunks of the monster collapsed to the ground until there was nothing left but steaming pieces.
Before they could twitch, Auren lifted his hand, mana swirling. A roaring fireball swelled in his palm, the heat turning the air into liquid. With a flick, he hurled it into the pile. The flames consumed the pieces, black smoke curling up until nothing remained but ash.
Auren dusted his hands. "And that, my friend, is how you kill something twice."
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