The Chief's glare burned hotter than the flames coiling in his palms.
"Kill him," he growled, his voice heavy like molten stone.
The two elites roared and surged forward, the ground trembling beneath their steps. Their massive fists, glowing faintly with red cracks, swung for Airen's arms like twin hammers aiming to shatter bone.
Airen raised his sword just in time, steel clashing against flesh harder than iron. The impact drove him backward, boots grinding into the dirt until his legs sank inches deep into the goblin village's cracked earth.
"Tch…" Airen's teeth clenched. His muscles strained, veins bulging, as the sheer weight of the blow forced his blade downward.
Before he could counterattack, the elites split apart, retreating like shadows. His eyes flicked between them—too late.
"Burn."
The Chief's voice echoed, and a blazing sphere of fire ripped through the air, screaming toward him.
Airen twisted his blade, trying to deflect, but the fireball detonated before his guard fully formed. The explosion engulfed him, blasting dust and flame across the empty village square.
He staggered out of the smoke, coughing, his left arm scorched from elbow to wrist. Blood trickled from his palm where skin had torn. Still usable—but barely.
The Chief sneered. "You're nothing before us."
The elites charged again, one going low, the other high. The first swung a crushing kick toward Airen's ribs while the second aimed a thunderous punch for his head.
Airen spun his blade downward, catching the kick on the flat of his sword, but the force rattled through his body. The second elite's fist slammed into his shoulder, nearly tearing the blade from his grip. His boots carved trenches as he skidded backward, smoke rising from his injured arm.
"Hah…" Airen exhaled sharply, eyes locked, refusing to waver.
The goblins pressed harder. The Chief raised both hands, flames coiling into a molten spear, its heat warping the very air around it. The two elites circled like wolves, their steps heavy, their movements precise.
For the first time since the fight began, Airen felt the walls closing in.
I'll have to use everything I have to win this fight, he thought grimly.
But before he could act, a rumble of footsteps echoed through the village. Hundreds of goblins poured in from every side, the ones Lirra had lured away now drawn back by the sound of battle.
Within moments, Airen stood at the center of a tightening ring—him against an army.
The crowd stretched as far as his eyes could see: males with jagged blades, females clutching crude spears, and dozens of cubic goblins, their strange block-like bodies gleaming under the moon like living stone. A few among them towered above the rest—one with a physique nearly rivaling the Chief's guards, his chest broad and fists like boulders. Four more, larger than ordinary goblins but smaller than the elites, bared their teeth in anticipation.
And at the edge of the crowd stood Lirra in her twisted goblin disguise. Her ugly form trembled, eyes filled with sorrow. She wanted to rush forward, to fight by Airen's side—but all she could do was watch, lips pressed tight, her gaze heavy with helplessness.
Airen's chest rose and fell. Dust clung to his scorched clothes, his left hand burned raw. Surrounded, wounded, outnumbered two hundred to one. Still, his expression didn't waver.
Two hundred and thirty-four of them…
F**k. I'm done for, he thought, but no hint of it touched his face.
"Silence!"
The Chief's voice cracked through the air like a whip. He raised his chin proudly, eyes gleaming with the cruel pride of a ruler who feared nothing. "This brat dared to steal from me!"
The goblins erupted in laughter, a guttural chorus of mockery.
"Ha ha ha! Stealing from the Chief!"
"Bold! Stupid!"
But the Chief's gaze swept over them, sharp as a blade. The laughter died instantly. Fear rippled through the mob, their bodies stiffening. None dared breathe too loud. Respect—not earned through love, but through terror.
Airen, unfazed, reached into his belt and pulled out a small vial. A tier-one recovery potion. He popped the cork with his thumb and downed it in one motion.
The bitter liquid burned his throat, but the effect was immediate. His scorched arm mended, cuts sealed, strength flowed back into his muscles.
Airen flexed his fingers, then smirked. His eyes sharpened, gleaming with cold confidence.
"Much better," he muttered.
Then, louder, his voice cutting through the tense silence:
"Looks like I can take you all on."
The goblins shifted uneasily, their laughter dying on their lips, replaced by frowns and clenched jaws. The Chief's crimson eyes narrowed, lips curling into a cruel, predatory grin.
Amid the two hundred and thirty-four enemies, Airen stood calm, fearless, and fully aware of the odds stacked against him.
He quickly scanned his inventory. Forty planks, a pickaxe, a few swords, potions, and various tools—all could be of some use in this fight. A flicker of calculation crossed his mind. Not much… but it's enough.
I've stored enough mana in the circuits to fire three fireballs, he thought, fingers brushing the hilts of his swords. His eyes drifted to the planks, the blocks perfectly cubic, waiting to be used.
Airen tilted his head toward the Goblin Chief. "Why did you stop attacking?"
From the edge of the circle, Lirra's reaction was impossible to miss. Even in her ugly goblin form, her golden eyes widened, mouth twitching in frustration. He's an idiot… why is he provoking the Chief now? her expression seemed to scream.
The Chief's grin deepened, a dangerous glint igniting in his crimson eyes. "As you wish," he said, and with a flick of his broken sword hilt, a fireball coalesced in his palm, crackling with molten heat, hurtling straight toward Airen.
Airen's movements were frantic, precise, and almost impossibly fast. He dropped two plank blocks in front of him, stacking them perfectly cubic, the surfaces clicking together with sharp precision. The fireball slammed into the wooden blocks with a thunderous impact, flames licking the edges.
The aftershock tore through the air, a violent gust sweeping past, tossing Airen's black hair into his eyes. Yet he only grinned, hair whipping in the wind, a dark streak of defiance across his face. "To the Chief," he called out, voice steady, "why did you stop?"
The Goblin Chief froze mid-motion, eyes narrowing at the sudden appearance of the planks. Does he… know magic too? The thought flickered across his mind, a brief flash of unease.
Airen adjusted his stance, the moonlight catching in his eyes, his expression sharp and calm despite the chaos around him. The battlefield had just shifted—and now, he was ready to turn the tide.