Chapter 36: The King's Battlefield
It had taken them less than ten minutes to arrive at the center of the pandemonium, their footsteps led by the odd, zig-zag path the B-rank spearman was adamant on taking. The man walked as if outlining some invisible map he alone could discern, guiding them between snapped trees, shattered ground, and pale flows of blood.
When they crested the final ridge, the world before them revealed itself in one, awful landscape.
They had halted at a point of natural elevation, and from that, the whole field of slaughter lay open.
The first thing that Ethan noticed was the Goblin King. Huge, brutish, and dressed in a hodgepodge of roughly hammered iron plates, its very presence emanated malevolence even at this range. Beyond it, the battlefield seethed as if alive.
Five B-rankers battled in sight: Brad and Wolf — two bare-fisted fighters whose knuckles shone with minuscule mana — exchanged ferocious blows with the king. Next to them, an elven archer flitted back and forth, shooting arrows so quickly they seemed to blur, compelling the hulking creature to divide his attention between ranged and hand-to-hand threats. Two others B-rankers were on the flanks, keeping at bay the horde of monsters flooding into the clearing.
One of the swordsmen — the man who had summoned the spearman previously — now sprawled behind the lines. His chest heaved in ragged gasps, blood freely dripping from his lips and shredded armor. No one could get to him.
The horde before them was a nightmare come to life. Ogres wielded tree-trunk clubs with bone-shattering might. Hobgoblins charged with serrated swords, snarling through broken tusks. Goblin archers shot arrows at random into the fray, their mages spitting bolts of crude green flame into the fight. In the midst of the crush, the dagger-wielding goblins sprang onto an adventurer's back, making them shriek before being batted away by a fellow's shield.
The mutated ogres were worse — larger, wider, their arms twisted in grotesque muscle and hide mottled black and crimson. With each charge, the earth shook beneath their footsteps. One of them was fighting a B-rank swordsman, the sound of blade biting into bone-hardened hide bursting with sparks and bursts of blood.
The battle with the Goblin King was at a standstill. Brad lumbered forward like a battering ram, every punch a shockwave that caused even the king to stumble a step. Wolf danced around him with quicker, stiffer blows, his fists flailing for the cracks in its armor. The elf shot arrows that cleaved the air like whips, some hitting the king's armor and shattering, others biting deep enough to extract a roar. The king retaliated with frightening accuracy — its serrated sword cut wide swings that ripped the ground, its shield battering aside anyone who came too close.
Ethan narrowed his eyes, attempting to initiate an inspection. The range was too far away — he'd have to close within ten meters.
The B-rank spearman who'd brought them here swept over the battlefield once, then shouted,
"Help stabilize the line! Don't let the horde break through!"
Without hesitation, he charged downslope, spear raised, charging right for the Goblin King's back.
The others had no other choice but to obey orders.
---
Lirael stared down at the elf archer below, her own breath caught in her throat as she witnessed him in action. His arrows did not merely fly — they danced, gliding between friends and finding the vulnerable spots of monsters as if choreographed by destiny itself. Every shot was a performance of precision and deadly grace.
"Lirael."
She blinked in surprise and turned to see Ethan regarding her intently.
"Stay alert," he told her. "Keep your distance, observe your environment and cover me, but don't get drawn in."
He didn't noticed me looking at that elf right?
A rosy flush brushed against her cheeks, but she nodded hastily. "Got it."
Ethan spared not another moment. He grasped his longsword tightly and ran towards the battlefield.
Along with him, the adventurers who had accompanied them were literally shaking with excitement. Some were laughing like lunatics, others bellowing curses and taunts. Their voices blended together into one war cry that echoed off the slope like thunder as they charged.
Ethan's thoughts switched to calculation.
If I'm going to leave my mark here, I need all the strength I can get.
With a flicker of thought, his system interface flared into view before his eyes, translucent and crisp even amidst the chaos.
---
Level: 9 (1021 / 78,235 )
Unassigned Stat Points: 12 → 0
Base Stats (Average Human Male = 1)
Strength: 13.8 → 16.8
Vitality: 11.8 → 13.8
Constitution: 12.5 → 14.5
Agility: 10.6 → 13.6
Stamina: 15.4 → 17.4
Intelligence: 14.0
Mana: 11.4
Skills:
[Magic Arrow] – 79% Mastery (Basic)
[Basic Longsword Technique] – 99% Mastery (Intermediate)
SP: 55,919
(Healing potion cost deducted)
---
The points changed in real time as he assigned them. His body reacted immediately — muscles tensing, blood circulating hotter, his stance feeling lighter, more secure.
He could already sense the difference in how the weight of his sword settled in his hand.
Fine… let's test this thing out.
And with that, he charged into battle.
Ethan dove into the press of monsters like a sword into water — fluid, unstoppable, inevitable. His longsword cut arcs of silver light, each strike economical and wasteless, but deadly in precision. Goblins died before they could even lift their blades; an ogre bellowed and swung a club the width of a tree, only for Ethan to slip inside its range and cut through its thigh in one clean stroke.
To the observer, it seemed less a man fighting and more a storm blowing by — monsters were the dust and detritus cleared out of the way.
"Who in the world is that man?!" one adventurer exclaimed, just barely parrying a hobgoblin's blow.
"See him! He's mowing them down like they're nothing!" another yelled above the chaos.
"get in behind him! He's carving out a path!"
Surrounding him, the tide of the battle started to turn. More adventurers poured in through the entrance of the cave, their battle cries adding to the cacophony of steel and screams. The frontline grew denser, and momentum started to shift back in favor of the human side.
At the forefront of it all, Ethan strode with war god form, his sword rising and falling with relentless cadence. And behind him, never a single beat missed by Lirael — her arrows flashing past his shoulders, knocking down foes he didn't even have to look at. They strode as if bound to each other, both covering each other wordlessly.
---
Level 9 (1,589 / 78,235)
...
..
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Level 9 (2,987 / 78,235)
...
..
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Level 9 (5,678 / 78,235)
...
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Level 9 (11,764 / 78,235)
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Level 9 (19,689 / 78,235)
...
..
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Level 9 (28,904 / 78,235)
---
Ding!
[System Quest] – Stand Above the Rest
Objective: Become the most notable contributor in the raid.
Progress: 100%
Rewards Distributed:
+20 Stat Points
+4,000 SP
Duskfang – Shadowforged Longblade
---
Finally.
But there was no time to pull the new weapon from thin air in the middle of this chaos. Instead, Ethan pushed the reward notification aside and flung the new stat points into his attributes.
---
Level: 9 (28,904 / 78,235)
Unassigned Stat Points: 20 → 0
Base Stats (Average Human Male = 1)
Strength: 16.8 → 20.8
Vitality: 13.8 → 17.8
Constitution: 14.5 → 18.5
Agility: 13.6 → 17.6
Stamina: 17.4 → 20.4
Intelligence: 14.0 → 15.0
Mana: 11.4
---
The transformation happened instantly — as if a dam had burst within him. His muscles tensed with unadulterated power, his chest filling with air with each inhale as if the air itself had become less dense, and each step was as if the ground beneath him was propelling him onward. The slight soreness in his arms from the long fighting disappeared; the heaviness of his sword was nearly nonexistent, as if he were wielding a willow branch.
It was exhilarating.
He stepped forward.
Crack.
A spider-like network of fractures radiated out from under his boot, dust rising from the earth.
Adventurers around him slowed to a standstill for an instant, some looking at him in awe.
"Did… did he just use a skill?"
"What sort of skill is that?!"
"Tsk...damn Awakeners"
Another step — crack — the sound crisper this time. Ethan let out a slow breath, cooling the flood in his veins, forcing his strength into submission. A third step — these cracks were smaller. A fourth, and his footing was sure once more.
Alright… let's run it past them.
He raised his sword and approached the next wave of monsters, each inch of him burning with deadly purpose.