In the dark and fetid sewer beneath the Kingdom of Blumund, three giant rats—each the size of a housecat—scampered through the sludge, their whiskers twitching and eyes darting nervously behind them, as if something monstrous and unseen were chasing them from the deeper tunnels.
Not far away, nestled in a crack within the wall, a deep-blue slime with a faint violet sheen pulsed quietly—Takuma , watching intently.
When he noticed the gash carved into one of the rat's backs, he instinctively shrunk deeper into the crevice. That was no monster wound. It was too clean, too precise—clearly the work of a sharpened blade.
"Humans? Down here?"
The thought echoed in his mind. Back in his old world, sewer workers or pest control squads weren't uncommon. But this world wasn't Earth. This was a magic-filled land where even a sewer could hide creatures evolved by magicules, and humans didn't enter unless they had a reason.
He looked at the blood trail that stained the damp floor tiles nearby—fresh. Whatever had injured the rat wasn't far behind.
Several tunnels away, within the crumbling maze of the sewer system, a party of four trudged carefully through ankle-deep filth. One of them, a blond-haired youth around seventeen, raised a glowing magic crystal—standard issue among low-tier adventurers—to illuminate their path.
Keith, the youth in question, grimaced as he crushed a weak slime beneath his boot. The translucent ooze splashed around, releasing a stench that wrinkled his nose.
"Ugh, Tuka, how much longer do we have to deal with sewer scum? I didn't leave my village to wade through piss and kill sludge monsters."
He swung his iron-forged sword with irritation, cleaving a leaping rat cleanly in mid-air before it reached him.
Tuka, a leather-armored middle-aged man with sun-weathered skin, turned to him calmly. "We're F-rankers, Keith. The Guild only assigns cleanup tasks like these until we prove ourselves. You want C-rank commissions? Then we finish the work, no complaints."
Their party lacked a mage and bore only standard adventuring gear—cheap swords, cloth armor, no enchantments. Not a group fit to handle real wilderness monsters or dungeon expeditions.
The Guild had reasons for assigning sewer purges to novices: it offered low risk, steady coin, and practical combat experience. Sewers were overrun with minor monsters—giant rats, basic slimes, and the occasional goblin straggler. For a new adventuring party, it was a place to survive and learn.
"Tch. If this is what being an adventurer's like, I should've stayed home," Keith muttered.
But even he grew serious as Tuka halted the group and raised his hand.
"Listen up. According to the Guild's last report, there's a goblin nest up ahead—likely a small tribal holdout. We eliminate them, and this job's done."
"Understood!" the group answered in unison. Even Keith nodded solemnly.
Tuka divided the tasks quickly: "Gordon and I will rig traps here—tripwires and spike pits. Nina, take lookout. Keith, guard her."
As the others moved, Nina and Keith crept ahead to the next tunnel exit, peering into a crude goblin encampment lit by flickering torchlight. An acrid stench of rot and urine wafted toward them.
At least fifteen goblins lazed around in a crude camp spanning maybe a hundred square meters. Bones, food scraps, and gnawed remains littered the area. A rusted iron pot bubbled over a fire, filled with a murky stew of meat, weeds, and who-knew-what-else.
In front of the pot stood a towering goblin with gray-green skin and heavy build—easily twice the size of the others.
A hobgoblin.
His long, clawed hand scratched himself idly before grabbing a nearby low-tier slime and dropping it—still wriggling—into the stew. The pot hissed as the slime dissolved.
Back in the tunnel, Tuka joined them, scanning the scene.
His face hardened the moment his eyes landed on the hobgoblin. "Change of plans," he whispered. "That's no regular goblin. It's evolved."
In the TenSura world, hobgoblins were the first step in goblin evolution. The manga had made it clear that, while regular goblins were weak, hobgoblins rivaled B-rank monsters in raw strength. A single hobgoblin could overpower multiple beginner adventurers with ease.
"If we'd rushed in, we'd all be stew right now."
He turned to Nina. "Give me your bow and that alchemic arrow."
Nina hesitated, then passed him her shortbow and a sealed glass-tipped arrow.
It was an alchemical explosive, created by a magician from the capital—far more powerful than anything they could normally afford. One shot cost nearly half the team's pooled savings.
Tuka nocked the arrow with steady hands. "Caesar, take Nina back to the traps. This is going to get messy."
The other man nodded and led Nina away. Tuka inhaled, drew the string tight, and aimed straight for the hobgoblin's heart.
His brow furrowed with grim determination.
They couldn't fail—not today. And if this shot hit true, they'd eliminate the goblin threat in one decisive blow.