Tens of thousands of monsters gave off a stench so rank it was almost suffocating, and it rolled across the entire arena of Roen City like a thick, poisonous fog.
It was the peculiar reek of the goblin race, blood mixed with the rot of viscera, forming a nauseating miasma so concentrated that more than a few weaker-constituted spectators vomited on the spot.
"Hurgh—!"
"What is that smell?!"
"It's disgusting!"
The stench of bile and vomit only deepened the chaos.
The whole arena seemed to have become a vast garbage heap, every foul odor blending into a hell of stink that left people in despair.
As the dark green cloud continued to drop its cargo, more and more goblins fell from the sky, and as they fell, the momentum each one carried grew weaker and weaker.
Many of the luckier goblins didn't slam straight into the hard ground, but landed instead on rooftops.
Roof tiles shattered, and the splintering wooden beams cushioned much of their fall.
"Crash! Crash! Crash!"
A continuous series of impacts sounded from rooftops all across the city.
These goblins rolled several times on the roofs, howling in pain, yet astonishingly none of them died on impact, they only suffered light to moderate injuries.
"Gruaak—!"
They struggled up out of the broken tiles, their green skin covered in gashes and streaming blood, but the vicious light in their eyes only burned brighter.
Some goblins fell into the waterways surrounding the arena.
"Splash! Splash! Splash!"
Each one threw up a huge plume of spray.
The water cushioned the force of their fall, and these green-skinned monsters thrashed in the current before quickly climbing up onto the banks, soaked through but with barely a scratch on them.
In the blink of an eye, these goblins fixed their vicious gazes on the Roen City civilians nearby, people who hadn't even had time to grasp what was happening and stood frozen in shock, and lunged at them.
A horrifying monster rampage erupted without warning inside Roen City.
In the midst of the arena's chaos, Orum's keen hearing caught an unusual sound.
Not far ahead of him, from a passage jammed tight with people, came a great cry of alarm, a sound thick with terror and despair.
"Ahh—!"
"Don't push forward, get back!"
"There's a monster up ahead!"
Panicked shouts blended into one continuous roar.
Then Orum's pupils suddenly constricted.
He saw more than a dozen bodies come flying backward as if struck by a battering ram.
The flung bodies tumbled through the air, blood spraying from their mouths, bones shattered, limbs bent at unnatural angles, clearly already fatally wounded.
An instant later, Orum got a clear look at what had attacked the crowd.
It was a pack of creatures with yellow-green skin, over two meters forty in height, their builds monstrously powerful.
From their appearance, Orum recognized them at once: they were the elite breed among goblins, Bugbears.
These Bugbears plowed straight through the packed crowd like bulldozers, forcing their way into the center of the arena.
Compared to ordinary Bugbears, these were noticeably stronger, their muscles knotted and their frames massive.
The faces of this pack of Bugbears were hideously ugly, tusks jutting from their lower jaws, drool dripping constantly, their eyes flashing with a bloodthirsty red gleam.
By now their fur was soaked through with blood, and the thick smell of human blood only drove these savage beasts further into a frenzy.
The Bugbears gripped crude clubs and stone axes in their hands, and under their monstrous strength these primitive weapons became deadly instruments. Every swing either burst open a civilian's skull or caved in a chest.
The moment these Bugbears entered the arena, they charged straight at the line of Roen City guards trying to maintain order.
"Hold formation! Shields up!"
A guard captain bellowed, trying to organize a defensive line.
More than a dozen city guards raised their shields to form a wall, spears jutting out through the gaps to create a dense hedge of points.
Yet this seemingly solid line proved as fragile as paper against the Bugbears' charge.
"BOOM—!"
The first Bugbear slammed into the shield wall, and the sheer force of the impact sent three soldiers flying, shields and all.
Shields buckled and warped, and the soldiers' arms snapped on the spot under the brutal force, drawing agonized screams.
The second and third Bugbears followed close behind, like a chain of battering rams, smashing the entire shield formation to pieces.
The soldiers were bowled over like pins, the formation collapsing entirely, screams rising on every side.
One soldier took a Bugbear's club straight to the helmet; the helmet caved in, and the man collapsed on the spot, blood pouring from every orifice, unconscious.
Another soldier tried to stab a Bugbear with his spear, but the tip only scratched its thick hide, leaving a shallow wound.
The Bugbear roared, seized the spear, and yanked hard, dragging the soldier off his feet along with his weapon, then drove a fist into his chest.
"Crack—!"
The sound of shattering ribs was unmistakable. The soldier coughed blood and was flung backward, his body limp.
These Bugbears' combat strength far exceeded expectations. Ordinary city guards were simply no match for them.
Just as the chaos reached its peak, a dazzling burst of magical light erupted from the VIP viewing platform.
It was the distinctive blue-white glow of a teleportation spell, blooming across the platform like a small sun.
The light carried a surge of powerful magical energy, and the air around it trembled faintly under that force.
Wherever the glow fell, the figures of dozens of nobles still alive, Lord Morgan among them, began to turn translucent.
"No!"
One noble, left outside the glow, let out a cry of despair.
He rushed madly toward the light.
But it was already too late.
Within a matter of seconds, the nobles vanished entirely from the arena, teleported to safety.
The teleportation spell, when it activated, also carried away the most elite soldiers stationed around the lord.
Those guards clad in fine armor and bearing sharp weapons vanished into the light along with the rest.
These elite forces, who should have been protecting Roen City, fled the disaster alongside the nobles.
At that moment, the thousands of unarmed civilian spectators still in the arena were left to face the savage fangs of the monsters alone.
"They ran!"
"The nobles all ran!"
"We've been abandoned!"
Panic spread through the crowd like a plague, wails and screams and cries for help blending into one hellish chorus.
At this point, the only combat strength left in the arena were the handful of gladiators who remained.
Orum looked at the empty VIP seats, and a cold chill rose in his chest.
In the middle of the chaos, a familiar figure appeared at Orum's side.
"Orum! Thank goodness I found you!"
It was Felix, captain of the Ice Hawks Company, his expression graver than Orum had ever seen it, fine beads of sweat standing out on his forehead.
On Felix's shoulder, his familiar, an owl, had its amber eyes wide open, every feather standing on end, clearly already in combat readiness.
The owl's talons gripped tight to the leather pauldron on Felix's shoulder, its head swiveling constantly as it kept watch for threats on every side.
"Orum, I sent my owl Otto up to scout from the air. The number of monsters that fell inside the Blazing Sun Arena is far greater than what's fallen elsewhere in the city."
Felix spoke without any preamble, his voice low and urgent as he laid out the situation.
Felix pointed toward the arena, where green mud was splattered everywhere, and out of that mud climbed monster after monster, still full of vicious life, swarming as thick as a locust plague.
"This isn't a coincidence. That green cloud seems to have been guided by some force, it lingered over the arena far longer than anywhere else."
Felix's tone was urgent. "We need to cut a path out of here as fast as we can and get everyone out of the Blazing Sun Arena, otherwise the thousands of civilians here, and the two of us as well, will be trapped and picked apart by an endless tide of monsters."
Then his gaze swept over to the empty VIP seats, and his tone turned bitter, a cold, mocking laugh escaping him. "Lord Morgan has already teleported away with his nobles, tail between his legs."
"That's the nobility for you, through and through."
"Duty and honor, those only ever exist on their dinner tables and their fancy stationery. The moment real disaster strikes, the first thing they think of is hiding in some reinforced bunker, leaving unarmed commoners to suffer and die in their place."
Felix said, grinding his teeth.
Orum nodded.
He agreed with what Felix said.
In most worlds, nobles wore the same ugly face.
And more than that, he strongly suspected that today's disaster in Roen City had been caused by Lord Morgan and his circle.
Now that they'd stirred up this catastrophe, it was the common people who paid the price.
The fate of commoners in this world was, indeed, rather tragic.
Felix took a deep breath, forcing down his anger, and continued. "I've already worked out a plan with Alexander. He and Raygore, along with the strongest of the gladiators, have pulled together a team to focus all their strength on clearing the monsters at the main gate."
"They're pushing back the monsters' assault at the main gate right now. If it goes well, they might be able to open a safe corridor out of the city and lead all the civilians to safety."
Felix looked Orum straight in the eye, laying out the assignment.
"Orum, I need you to hold the tide of monsters pouring in through the side gate. Don't let them flank around, or the group at the main gate will end up caught between two fronts."
"As for the rest, the weaker gladiators, have them stay in the center of the arena to protect the civilians and pick off the goblins falling from the sky in ones and twos."
"Your family, we'll look after them too."
"I'll have them moved somewhere safe with the other non-combatants, I won't let any monster get near them."
It was a reasonably sound tactical arrangement.
The strong break through the enemy lines, the weak protect the core.
Making the best possible use of everyone's strengths.
Orum listened to Felix's plan and nodded slightly, signaling his agreement.
It really was the most sensible arrangement available right now, one that could protect the civilians as much as possible while still carving out a way to survive.
"Understood."
Orum answered simply.
The current situation truly had grown urgent enough that every second counted.
With every passing moment, more people were dying in the arena, and more monsters were pouring in.
Orum's gaze shifted away from Felix, toward the center of the arena.
The fighting there was just as grim, chaos and shrill screams everywhere.
Civilians in the stands scattered and fled in every direction; some were trampled underfoot, others were struck by goblins falling from above, their skulls bursting open on impact, dropping where they stood.
Among the crowd, several armed gladiators fought desperately, locked in mortal combat with vicious Bugbears.
These were all gladiators who hadn't yet earned a class rank, the weaker fighters.
Orum recognized one figure among them, a dwarf with unusually thick arms, wielding a heavy warhammer.
It was Thor, the dwarf warrior he'd faced in the tournament, the one who had once claimed he'd "twisted his ankle."
By now Thor clearly had no time to worry about any "sprained ankle."
He was swinging his hammer with everything he had, locked in a desperate fight against two Bugbears.
"In the name of the Ironpeak Clan! Damn green-skinned beasts, take this!"
The dwarf warrior roared, his beard matted with blood, whether his own or the enemy's, it was impossible to tell.
His heavy armor bore several deep dents, clear evidence of the punishment he'd already taken.
But the fire of battle still burned in his eyes.
Brave as Thor was, he had no class rank to speak of.
Facing as many as eight Bugbears, formidable monsters in their own right, he and his comrades were barely holding on, and could break at any moment.
A Bugbear's stone axe came crashing down at Thor's skull.
Thor raised his hammer and blocked with everything he had.
"CLANG—!"
The tremendous force sent him stumbling back several steps, splitting the skin between his thumb and forefinger.
Blood seeped from his palm, staining the grip of his hammer.
Thor gritted his teeth, forcing back the pain.
He knew that the moment he fell, the line behind him would collapse.
The other gladiators weren't faring much better; this makeshift defensive line was on the verge of crumbling entirely.
Orum knew that if he didn't act immediately, these gladiators, and however many civilians remained in the arena, would all end up food for the monsters.
He didn't hesitate. He hefted the flame-steel glaive with one hand, and in an instant his entire bearing changed.
Orum's feet slammed into the ground, and at the same moment, the twin hearts and four lungs within his body, along with his Bugbear Tendon +2, all surged to life at once.
Two hearts pounded like war drums, four lobes of lung tissue worked at full capacity, feeding a ceaseless stream of energy to every limb.
Throughout his entire body, his reinforced tendons pulled taut like steel wire, gathering terrifying force.
"BOOM—!"
The ground split open directly beneath his stomping foot.
Cracks spread outward like a spider's web, and off the recoil of that force, Orum's body launched into the air like a cannon shell.
He cut a black arc across the sky, plunging down like a black meteor.
The flame-steel glaive was raised high overhead, its blade catching the sunlight in a cold, glinting flash.
Thor and the others felt the world go dark before their eyes.
A vast shadow fell from the sky, blotting out the heavens above them.
That shadow spread like the wings of a great eagle, carrying with it an air of pure destruction.
The dwarf warrior instinctively looked up.
He saw the figure of a human warrior, a massive war-glaive in hand, falling from the sky.
"BOOOM—!"
An earth-shaking crash exploded outward.
Orum came down from above, driving the flame-steel glaive straight into the top of a Bugbear's skull.
The Bugbear didn't even have time to scream.
Under the amplification of the Goblin Butcher title, its entire skull burst apart under that horrifically overwhelming force.
Like a watermelon struck by a sledgehammer, it split into fragments in an instant.
[Goblin Butcher]
[Effect 1: All your slashing damage gains a 10% damage bonus!]
[Effect 2: All damage dealt to the Goblin race gains a 30% damage bonus!]
In that instant, red-and-white brain matter mixed with green blood and sprayed in every direction.
The Bugbear's massive body crumpled as though every ounce of strength had drained out of it, and it crashed to the ground.
A cloud of dust kicked up, and the ground shook with the impact.
[Bugbear Kill Count +1]!
The status notification flickered across Orum's vision and was gone.
The other Bugbears nearby finally reacted.
They all turned their heads toward the figure that had suddenly appeared, Orum.
A flicker of shock passed through their eyes.
These monsters weren't especially intelligent, but even they understood what had just happened.
One of their own had just had its skull crushed in an instant.
Just as the stunned, furious Bugbears prepared to launch an attack, Orum gave them no chance to strike back.
The moment he landed, he had already completed the opening stance of the combat art, Sword Dance.
Every ounce of violent force in his body surged to a boil.
A mastery-tier combat art, capable of unleashing power that transcended the limits of the physical body.
The full might of Sword Dance erupted.
Combat Art: Sword Dance!
"WHOOSH—!"
The air split under the edge of the blade, releasing a shrill whistling shriek.
Countless glaive-afterimages filled the sky.
They swept out in every direction, and every single one of those afterimages aimed at the Bugbears carried a killing edge.
Like the reaper's scythe itself.
They cut wildly toward Bugbears on every side.
At that moment, with the Goblin Butcher title granting him a 30% damage bonus against the Goblin race, that amplification was nothing short of terrifying.
It took attacks that were already devastating on their own and pushed them, against Bugbears, to levels of pure annihilation.
The first glaive-afterimage struck a Bugbear across the waist.
"SHHK—!"
It sliced the creature clean in half at the waist.
Its muscular upper body separated from its lower half, both halves flung apart.
Thick blood erupted like a fountain, splattering everywhere.
The second afterimage caught another Bugbear across the neck.
The keen edge sliced clean through hide, muscle, and even the thick bone of the spine in a single stroke.
The Bugbear's hideous severed head flew high into the air, spinning rapidly.
The third, the fourth, the fifth—
Each afterimage landed in turn.
Every Bugbear struck in a vital spot died instantly.
Their massive bodies crashed to the ground, twitching as the last of their life drained away.
Those Bugbears who'd been struck on the limbs or torso, wounded gravely but not yet dead, writhed on the ground, howling in agony.
"AAARGH—!"
Their tortured screams echoed through the arena.
Sword Dance was, without question, one of the finest combat arts for charging into a battlefield; in a single pass, it had utterly annihilated the Bugbears' entire line.
The handful of Bugbears left, wounded and crippled, tried to drag their broken bodies away and flee.
One with a severed arm clutched the spurting stump and bolted, panicked, desperate to escape.
Another, with its legs cut away, could only crawl along the ground, hauling itself forward with its arms.
"Run, ...run, faster!"
A trail of blood smeared across the ground, a gruesome, chilling sight.
But no matter how these Bugbears struggled, their death was already sealed.
The instant Sword Dance ended, Orum's figure flickered.
He closed the distance to the nearest badly wounded Bugbear in an instant.
That Bugbear's legs had already been severed by the flame-steel glaive.
Blood still bubbled from the raw, bone-exposed stumps.
It was trying to drag itself along with its right hand, still attempting to escape.
Orum raised his right foot, channeling the full strength of his monster tendon into it, and stomped down hard on the Bugbear's skull.
"SPLAT—!"
The Bugbear's head burst like a smashed watermelon.
Red and green fluid sprayed out in every direction.
Brain matter mixed with blood, forming a disgusting mess across the ground.
Then, one after another, as though venting all his fury, Orum stomped the skulls of the remaining Bugbears into ruin.
[Bugbear Kill Count +1]!
[Bugbear Kill Count +1]!
[Bugbear Kill Count +1]!
[Bugbear Kill Count +1]!
The kill notifications flashed across Orum's vision in rapid succession, one after another.
In just a few dozen seconds, the eight Bugbears that had surrounded the gladiators were annihilated by Orum's hand.
[You have killed 10 Bugbears]
[Monster Organ Upgrade Obtained:]
[Bugbear Bone Structure!]
Orum looked at the notification that flashed across his vision and, without any hesitation, chose to convert the [Bugbear Bone Structure].
Though the Bugbear bone structure was a decent monster organ in its own right, at this point it had become nearly useless to Orum.
After all, he already possessed something far more powerful, the [Minotaur Bone Structure], an apex-tier monster organ that far surpassed anything at the Bugbear's level.
As a high-tier monster, the Minotaur's bones were vastly stronger and more resilient than a Bugbear's; there was no reason to swap it out for an inferior copy.
"Convert to enhancement points."
Orum silently intoned in his mind.
[Bugbear Bone Structure converted into 1 Enhancement Point!]
The notification responded instantly.
[Current Enhancement Point balance: 3 points]
At that moment, Thor and the other gladiators stared, dumbstruck, at what had just unfolded.
Only moments earlier they'd been fighting desperately to hold off these horrifying monsters.
Then Orum had appeared out of nowhere, and one swing of the flame-steel glaive had completely turned the tide of battle.
In just a few dozen seconds, all seven, no, eight of the Bugbears that had surrounded the gladiators had been utterly slaughtered.
Blood and shredded flesh covered the entire area. The stench of blood hung thick in the air.
Dark, thick blood pooled across the marble floor in spreading puddles, giving off a nauseating reek.
Even after watching Orum stomp all eight Bugbear skulls into pulp like watermelons, Thor and the other gladiators still stood frozen in place, their shock nearly beyond words.
Thor's thick arms trembled faintly, his hand, still gripping his warhammer, slick with sweat, his eyes full of disbelief.
"Was that... a Sword Dance combat art?"
Beside him, the gladiator Grace murmured, her voice full of astonishment.
"It has to be! And a mastery-tier Sword Dance, no less!"
Thor answered with certainty.
"Mastery-tier?!"
The other gladiators gasped.
"Reaching that level of mastery with a combat art takes at least ten years of relentless training..."
"But he doesn't even look twenty years old!"
The group let out cries of disbelief, utterly unable to make sense of it.
"I suppose this is what they call a monster in human skin."
A complicated expression crossed Thor's face: shock, awe, and a touch of bitter self-mockery.
It was plain to see that Orum hadn't shown anywhere near his full strength during the tournament.
He'd shattered Tony's full suit of plate armor in a single blow, and that alone had been terrifying enough, but clearly, that hadn't even been the extent of his power.
Only now did Thor finally understand: Orum was a true hidden killer. His entering a non-class-ranked tournament was like a dragon slaughtering kittens.
Just as the gladiators stood there in shock, Orum glanced up and saw, not far off, several goblins charging up the stadium steps toward the civilian section, shrieking as they went.
Orum didn't bother drawing a weapon. He simply raised his right foot and drove it, hard, into the corpse of a nearby Bugbear.
That Bugbear corpse, weighing well over two hundred kilograms, was sent flying like a cannonball under the terrifying force of Orum's kick.
"BOOM—!"
The corpse arced through the air, tearing the wind with a shrieking whistle.
The goblins charging toward the civilians never even saw it coming before the massive corpse crashed down on top of them from above.
"GYAAH—!"
Their shrill screams cut off abruptly.
The Bugbear's corpse hit the ground with tremendous force, and the impact crushed four goblins into a bloody paste.
Green blood mixed with red viscera, forming a revolting slurry.
[Goblin Kill Count +1]!
[Goblin Kill Count +1]!
[Goblin Kill Count +1]!
[Goblin Kill Count +1]!
The system notifications flashed one after another; each flicker filled Orum with a little more grim satisfaction.
Orum turned to Thor and the others, his voice calm but firm, brooking no argument. "Keep clearing the monsters here.
I'm heading to the side gate to wipe out what's coming through there. If you run into anything you can't handle, send word to me immediately."
Hearing this, Thor unconsciously straightened his back.
"Understood!"
Thor's reply rang out with a resolve he'd never felt before.
Thor looked at the young man before him, glaive in hand, and felt a swirl of complicated emotions.
He'd never imagined that one day he'd willingly take orders from someone so young.
That face still looked so youthful, even carrying a hint of boyish softness.
But the talent Orum had just displayed was nothing short of breathtaking.
And his strength was almost beyond imagining.
That kind of overwhelming, crushing combat power left even the battle-hardened Thor thoroughly convinced.
Not a trace of resentment or discontent remained in him.
The other gladiators nodded as well, their eyes full of awe and trust toward Orum.
In a moment of life-and-death crisis like this, the orders of the strong were the only hope of survival.
No one was foolish enough to question them.
Without another word, Orum turned and strode toward the side gate of the arena.
The flame-steel glaive rested across his shoulder, its heavy blade swaying faintly with each step, and in the howling wind, drops of Bugbear blood fell from its edge, making the already dreadful weapon look even more terrifying.
As Orum drew closer to the side gate, the commotion beyond it grew steadily clearer.
It was some kind of orderly footfall, some kind of rhythmic chanting, that made Orum's brow furrow.
This wasn't the chaotic, disorganized howling of ordinary goblins.
If anything, it sounded like the marching cadence of some kind of military unit.
"An army?"
Orum's pupils narrowed slightly.
He quickened his pace, and soon the scene at the side gate came into view.
At the side gate, a wave of tall, imposing monsters was pouring steadily into the arena.
These monsters had rough, reddish-brown skin.
Standing generally over two meters tall, far taller than ordinary goblins.
They weren't as bulky or muscular as the Bugbears, but their builds were more proportioned.
Their muscles were clearly defined, packed with explosive power.
Even more alarming, these monsters wore standardized armor.
They carried sharpened iron swords in their hands.
The armor was crude, but it covered every vital area.
The blades caught the dim light with a cold gleam.
The eyes of these monsters were focused and vicious, and their steps moved in perfect unison, unmistakably a disciplined monster army.
"Hobgoblins!"
Orum immediately recognized the species.
Hobgoblins were the elite branch of the goblin race.
Far more intelligent and disciplined than either ordinary goblins or Bugbears.
They understood tactics and could form and hold formation.
They could even forge simple weapons and equipment.
At this moment, at least twenty or more Hobgoblins had already crowded into the passage at the side gate.
And behind them, their numbers kept growing.
At the center of their ranks stood one Hobgoblin, noticeably larger than the rest.
This Hobgoblin commander stood nearly two meters fifty tall, its armor finer than the others'.
A thick crust of dried blood coated its breastplate, and it gripped a broad-bladed iron sword.
Its presence radiated raw power; it was clearly the commander of the Hobgoblin force.
"Offer the blood of these humans to our supreme true god! Build ten thousand towers of skulls from their heads!"
The Hobgoblin commander raised its iron sword and bellowed the command, its voice hoarse but charged with power, echoing again and again through the side gate passage.
The Hobgoblin soldiers around it heard their commander's cry.
They raised their weapons as one and let out a unified roar.
"Supreme true god!"
They chanted together, their voices crashing like thunder.
That fervor sent Orum's brow furrowing deeper still.
The look in those Hobgoblins' eyes wasn't ordinary bloodlust; it was something closer to religious mania.
"Supreme true god?" Orum murmured, repeating the unfamiliar name under his breath.
This was the first time he'd ever heard that name. Not in anything Felix or Professor Ronald had told him, nor in any of the texts on deities he'd read, was there any record of this name.
Whether the mainstream pantheons of light and nature, or the more obscure faiths of shadow and chaos, none of them included this name.
That was deeply unusual. An entirely new, unknown god, and yet it had driven so many monsters into religious frenzy.
And once again, it was goblins.
The sudden green cloud, the unnatural, physics-defying rain of goblins, it all made Orum think, inevitably, of that equally strange and unnatural Black Gate.
Both times the Black Gate had opened, the first time and the second, it had been goblins that attacked Lock Village.
Orum couldn't shake the growing feeling that this "supreme true god" was somehow, inescapably, connected to the Black Gate as well.
Orum stood squarely in the path the Hobgoblin army had to pass, gripping his flame-steel glaive, his gaze growing colder by the moment.
"What god is it you speak of, this supreme true god of yours?" Orum called out, his voice not loud, but carrying with piercing clarity to the ears of every Hobgoblin present.
"And where have you come from?" Orum pressed on, trying to draw out information.
But the Hobgoblin commander had no intention of answering. Orum noted that its eyes held nothing but fanatic fervor and murderous intent.
And it wasn't just the commander, every single Hobgoblin soldier's eyes blazed with the same crimson magical light.
That light was eerie and ominous, as if the fires of hell itself burned within their eye sockets.
These Hobgoblins had clearly fallen into some extreme state of fervor, their reason entirely consumed by blind fanaticism.
"Kill!"
The Hobgoblin commander roared, its arm sweeping down in a savage gesture, issuing the order to attack.
In an instant, more than a dozen Hobgoblins drew short spears from behind their backs, all aimed at Orum.
These metal short spears were roughly a meter long, their tips honed to a razor edge, glinting coldly even in the dim light.
"WHOOSH WHOOSH WHOOSH—!" The air tore with a sudden burst of whistling.
More than a dozen spears rained down on Orum like a storm, each one carrying deadly force.
The spears crossed dense, overlapping arcs through the air, sealing off every possible avenue of escape.
Orum's pupils narrowed slightly; he could clearly sense the power behind every single one of those spears.
The penetrating force of these short spears was fearsome; each one was capable of punching straight through the standard-issue iron armor of a Roen City guard.
An ordinary soldier facing an attack like this would likely be skewered like a pincushion.
"Seems Felix's plan wasn't quite thorough enough after all," the thought flickered through Orum's mind.
The monsters pouring through the side gate were no weaker than those at the main gate, if anything, with their discipline and equipment, they were even more dangerous.
Still, the corner of Orum's mouth curled into a cold smile; danger like this suited him just fine.
No matter how many waves of goblins stood before him, he only needed to cut through them with the flame-steel glaive.
Orum didn't dodge.
The instant the spears closed to within three meters of him, Orum moved.
Within his chest, his twin hearts and four lungs roared into furious motion.
Two hearts pounded like war drums, four lung-lobes expanded to their fullest, feeding a surge of oxygen to every muscle, driving blood as scalding as molten lava through a body built to rival a monster's own.
His power exploded outward in full force.
Orum's arms surged with strength, and he spun the impossibly heavy flame-steel glaive into a blur before him.
The terrifying power of his Bugbear Tendon +2 fully unleashed; even a true Bugbear couldn't have matched Orum in that instant.
His arms moved with the steady, relentless force of a hydraulic press, and the flame-steel glaive became a streak of black afterimage in his hands, spinning too fast for the eye to follow.
The glaive traced out a black disc in front of him, forming an impenetrable wall of defense.
This was a feat only possible through the terrifying strength of his Bugbear Tendon +2, a forced approximation of a projectile-deflection skill.
The arc traced by the blade formed a perfect circle, slicing the air with a piercing shriek.
"CLANG CLANG CLANG—!" A dense series of metallic impacts rang out one after another.
More than a dozen short spears, each carrying tremendous force, were sent flying the instant they met the high-speed spinning blade.
No, not merely flying, they were sheared clean apart.
Against the devastating cutting force of the flame-steel glaive, these iron spears shattered like brittle twigs, splintering into countless fragments. Shafts and tips alike were reduced to shrapnel scattering in every direction.
Metal fragments rained down in every direction, clattering as they struck the ground.
The Hobgoblins' first volley of attacks was neutralized, just like that, almost casually.
Orum stood unmoved amid the falling debris, the spinning of the flame-steel glaive gradually slowing until it came to a firm stop in his grip.
His breathing was steady, as if what he'd just done had been nothing more than a light warm-up.
Then, without giving the enemy a moment to react, the muscles in Orum's right arm suddenly bulged.
His tendons pulled taut like steel wire, veins standing out clearly beneath his skin.
That overwhelming power surged again, and Orum hurled the flame-steel glaive forward like a javelin.
"HYAH—!"
A sharp whistle tore through the air, and the great glaive became a bolt of black lightning.
The speed of this throw completely surpassed even the Hobgoblins' short spears from before, too fast for anyone to react in time.
The air split apart under it, releasing a thunderous roar.
The Hobgoblin commander felt only a suffocating pressure bearing down on it before it even had a chance to move.
An instant later, "THUNK—!" A dull, piercing sound rang out.
The flame-steel glaive struck the Hobgoblin commander's skull with pinpoint precision, the sharp tip driving straight through helmet and head alike. Its skull, like a punctured ball, was pinned dead against the ground by the impaling glaive.
The sound of tearing metal was piercing, and the wet sound of flesh being run through was sickening.
Strike the leader, and the rest will fall!
The Hobgoblin commander's body stiffened where it stood, the iron sword in its hand clattering to the ground.
The commander's headless body collapsed limply, blood erupting in a violent column from its ruined neck.
[You have killed 1 Hobgoblin!]
[Reward Available: Monster Organ, Hobgoblin War Roar Organ!]
[Stage 1 Reward: Kill 10 Hobgoblins to receive the advancement reward!]