Don hunted them methodically.
The Executioner's Edge made it almost too easy—the blade could attack enemies five meters away, could strike from angles they couldn't defend against, could cut through any protection they raised. And his title ensured every strike hit something vital.
His Agility of 105—now enhanced by the level up—meant none of them were fast enough to escape. His Stamina of 97 meant he could maintain this pace for hours if necessary.
It wasn't necessary.
Within ten minutes, the outer and middle rings were graveyards. Bodies everywhere. Green blood pooling in the dirt turning the ground into mud. The few structures left standing draped with corpses. The fires burning lower now, casting everything in flickering orange and shadow.
Don stood in the center of the carnage, breathing steady, his armor completely soaked in goblin blood that looked almost black in the crimson twilight. The Executioner's Edge hovered behind him, dripping, patient, waiting for more.
His status showed four hundred ninety-eight kills now. The experience bar was climbing toward Level 10.
But he wasn't done.
Because in the center of the camp, in front of the largest tent, standing alone with his war axe resting on one massive shoulder, surrounded by the last twelve goblins—warriors all, the camp's final defenders—
The Camp Leader waited.
Nearly two meters tall. Armor that actually fit properly, reinforced with metal plates that gleamed dully in the firelight. Muscles that bulged with unnatural strength enhanced by Stage 1 cultivation. Yellow eyes that glowed with intelligence and rage and the terrible understanding of someone watching their entire world die.
The war drums BOOMED louder, faster, the rhythm becoming frantic, desperate.
Don activated Analyze—free now, thanks to his title.
[TITLE EFFECT: ANALYZE - ALL GOBLIN WEAKNESSES REVEALED]
[GOBLIN CAMP LEADER - BLOODFANG]
Level: 11
Stage: 1 - Iron Will (Level 4/6)
Manifestation: War Drums (Area buff/debuff)
Threat Level: EXTREME
Status: Enraged, Grief-Stricken, Defiant
WEAKNESSES REVEALED:
- Left knee injury (old wound, never healed properly) - CRITICAL WEAKNESS
- Overreliance on War Drums manifestation - disrupting it cripples his tactical advantage
- Rage makes him predictable in extended combat
- will abandon technique for raw power
- Right-side blind spot (damaged eye, hidden by helmet) - 40% reduced peripheral vision
- War Drums require concentration - pain breaks focus
- Axe is weighted wrong - recovered weapon, not his original, timing is slightly off
OPTIMAL STRATEGY:
- Target left knee early to reduce mobility (25% bonus damage to weak point = crippling injury likely)
- Force prolonged combat to trigger rage state
- Attack from right side when possible
- Disrupt War Drums by causing intense pain
- Kill him to end manifestation permanently
The knowledge settled into Don's mind like puzzle pieces clicking into place. He knew exactly how to kill this goblin. The title had given him everything he needed.
The leader—Bloodfang—raised his axe and roared. The sound carried no words Don could understand, but the meaning was clear. A challenge. A final stand. The last defiant cry of a warrior who knew death was coming but would face it regardless.
Don said nothing.
He just walked forward, The Executioner's Edge trailing behind him like an executioner's shadow, and Emotion Suppression keeping his mind perfectly clear.
The final battle had begun.
-----
The twelve warriors charged first.
Not in a coordinated formation—there was no strategy left, no tactical discipline. Just desperate fury and the primal need to protect their leader, their last hope.
Don met them halfway.
The first warrior swung a crude sword in a wide arc—too wide, too slow, telegraphed a full second before it connected. Don's title showed him the attack's trajectory, the warrior's balance point, the exact moment of vulnerability.
He sidestepped. His blade took the warrior's arm off at the elbow.
[+40 XP]
The Executioner's Edge lashed out independently, severing another warrior's leg at the knee—a weak point his title highlighted in perfect clarity. The goblin collapsed screaming.
The Edge finished it with a downward strike through the skull.
[+40 XP]
Ten warriors left.
They tried to surround him, spreading out in a loose circle. A reasonable tactic against a normal opponent. But Don's enhanced perception tracked all of them simultaneously, his title revealing each one's weak points like targets painted in his vision.
A warrior lunged from his left. Don's sword intercepted—not the weapon, but the warrior's wrist, severing tendons his title showed him were exposed. The warrior's grip failed. Its own momentum carried it onto Don's blade.
[+40 XP]
The Executioner's Edge spun in a full circle, operating at maximum range—five meters of death radius. Three warriors fell, bodies opened in precise cuts that targeted organs and arteries his title had mapped.
[+40 XP] × 3
Six left.
They were backing away now, fear finally overwhelming duty. Their leader's war drums pounded harder, trying to force courage into them, but Don's Iron Will made him immune and without their target affected, the manifestation's morale boost couldn't overcome the raw terror of watching their companions die like wheat before a scythe.
Don didn't chase them. He walked. Steady. Inevitable. Mechanical.
One warrior tried to run. The Executioner's Edge manifested Executioner's Judgment.
[SKILL ACTIVATED: EXECUTIONER'S JUDGMENT]
[COST: 30 MANA]
[ENHANCED BY GREENSKIN HUNTER: +25% DAMAGE TO WEAK POINT]
The ghostly blade crossed thirty meters in an instant, targeting the fleeing warrior's spine—a weakness point between poorly fitted armor plates. The cut was so precise, so devastating, that the goblin's upper and lower body separated completely.
[+40 XP]
Five warriors.
They broke entirely, scattering in different directions.
Don's title automatically highlighted their escape routes, predicted their movements, showed him the optimal interception points.
He caught the first within ten steps. Sword through the back, angled up through a gap in the ribs his title revealed. The blade found the heart perfectly.
[+40 XP]
The Executioner's Edge handled the second and third simultaneously—one strike per target, both lethal, both hitting weak points that turned what should have been serious wounds into instant deaths.
[+40 XP] × 2
The fourth warrior made it twenty meters before Executioner's Judgment caught it, the ghostly blade severing its head with contemptuous ease.
[+40 XP]
The fifth and final warrior turned to face Don, raising its weapon in a final gesture of defiance—then charged with a guttural war cry.
Don's blade met it halfway, cutting through the warrior's guard and finding the heart.
[+40 XP]
All twelve warriors dead in less than two minutes.
Don turned toward the center, where Bloodfang stood alone now. The camp leader's yellow eyes blazed with fury and something else—not fear, but a warrior's acceptance of death. His entire tribe slaughtered. His warriors fallen. But he still stood, axe ready, war drums pounding their defiant rhythm.
He roared something in the goblin language—harsh, guttural words Don couldn't understand. But the tone was clear. Come. Face me. Let us end this as warriors.
The war drums reached a crescendo, BOOMING so loudly that dust fell from nearby structures and the ground itself vibrated. Bloodfang raised his war axe—easily two meters long, the blade glowing with red energy—and assumed a combat stance.
This time, there was no intimidation roar. No attempt at psychological warfare. Just pure readiness for battle.
Don felt something almost like respect for that.
Almost.
Twenty meters between them.
Fifteen.
Ten.
Bloodfang charged.
For something nearly two meters tall and wearing heavy armor, he moved FAST—Agility enhanced by cultivation and years of combat experience. The war axe came down in an overhead strike that would have split Don in half.
Don sidestepped. His title showed him the attack was coming a full second before it started—Bloodfang's shoulders had tensed, his weight had shifted, his eyes had tracked the intended path.
Predictable.
As the axe whistled past, Don's sword lashed out toward the left knee—the critical weakness his title had highlighted. Enhanced by his Greenskin Hunter title, the strike carried twenty-five percent more damage against the weak point.
The blade bit deep, cutting through old scar tissue and poorly healed bone.
Bloodfang's face twisted in pain but he didn't cry out. Instead he pivoted on his good leg, bringing the axe around in a horizontal sweep that forced Don to duck—
The Executioner's Edge struck from behind, targeting the right side blind spot.
Bloodfang somehow sensed it anyway, twisting with desperate speed. The Edge's strike that should have taken his head instead carved a deep gash across his armored shoulder, metal parting like paper.
[DAMAGE: SIGNIFICANT]
[BLOODFANG STATUS: WOUNDED, DETERMINED]
The war drums stuttered for a moment—the intense pain had disrupted Bloodfang's concentration, exactly as Don's title had predicted. The manifestation wavered, the rhythm faltering.
But Bloodfang steadied it quickly, forcing his will back into the drums, maintaining the manifestation through sheer determination.
Impressive.
The camp leader attacked again, but this time with more caution. His damaged knee limited his mobility, forcing him to rely more on positioning than movement. Each swing of the axe was calculated, efficient, conserving energy.
Don's title showed him the patterns anyway. The slight hesitation before attacking from the left. The overcompensation when defending his right side. The way his weight distribution changed when preparing for a heavy strike.
They exchanged blows—Don's sword and Edge against Bloodfang's axe and manifestation. Green blood mixed with the dirt. More wounds opened on the goblin leader's body.
None immediately lethal, but accumulating.
Bloodfang's breathing grew labored. His movements slower. The war drums began to lose their rhythm again as pain and exhaustion took their toll.
But he never tried to flee. Never begged. Never showed anything except the fierce pride of a warrior facing his end.
A particularly wild swing left Bloodfang overextended. Don activated Executioner's Judgment.
[SKILL ACTIVATED: EXECUTIONER'S JUDGMENT]
[TARGET: LEFT KNEE (CRITICAL WEAKNESS)]
[ENHANCED DAMAGE: +25%]
The ghostly blade manifested and STRUCK—not cutting, but SEVERING. The damaged knee joint, already weakened, couldn't withstand the focused assault.
Bloodfang's left leg gave out completely. He crashed to one knee, the war drums faltering badly as pain overwhelmed concentration.
The goblin leader tried to stand, tried to force his ruined leg to bear weight—
The Executioner's Edge took his right arm off at the shoulder.
The war axe fell from nerveless fingers, clattering to the ground. The red glow faded.
Bloodfang collapsed fully now, kneeling in the dirt, blood pouring from multiple wounds. His war drums beat weakly, erratically, the manifestation dying with its master.
Don stood before him, sword and Edge both ready, waiting for the final desperate attack—
But Bloodfang just knelt there, breathing heavily, yellow eyes locked on Don's mismatched brown and yellow gaze.
The goblin spoke—a single word in his harsh language, guttural and final. Don didn't understand it, but the tone was clear.
An acknowledgment. A warrior recognizing another warrior.
Or perhaps simply acceptance of death.
Don raised his sword to deliver the final strike—
[Wait.]
Madness's voice cut in, sharp and commanding.
[Don't kill him with the SWORD, little seed. Use the EDGE. Your manifestation. This is a Stage 1 Iron Will cultivator—a camp leader with his own manifestation. If you kill him with YOUR manifestation, the symbolism matters. Executioner's Edge SEVERING his Iron Will. One manifestation destroying another. The System will notice. The Abyss will notice.]
Don paused, considering.
Then he dismissed his sword and let The Executioner's Edge float forward, positioning itself above Bloodfang's neck.
The goblin leader looked up at the guillotine blade hovering above him. His yellow eyes met Don's one final time. He spoke again—more words Don couldn't understand, but there was no pleading in the tone. No fear. Just… finality.
Bloodfang straightened his back as much as his wounds allowed, lifting his chin, exposing his throat. His eyes never left Don's.
A warrior's death.
Don activated Will Manifest fully, pouring mana into the Executioner's Edge until it became SOLID—more real than real, a blade that didn't just exist in physical space but in conceptual space, a manifestation of his Iron Will made absolute.
[IRON WILL ABILITY: WILL MANIFEST - MAXIMUM OUTPUT]
[MANA COST: 100]
The Edge gleamed, crimson veins blazing like rivers of fire, the steel darker than midnight.
Then the blade fell.
It didn't cut. It SEVERED.
Bloodfang's head separated from his body in a single perfect strike, no resistance, no friction, just absolute finality. The war drums stopped instantly, the manifestation dying with its master. The body collapsed forward, blood pooling in the dirt.
[CRITICAL KILL: GOBLIN CAMP LEADER - BLOODFANG]
[LEVEL 11 - STAGE 1 IRON WILL (LEVEL 4/6)]
[+500 XP]
[SPECIAL BONUS: MANIFESTATION KILL]
[EXECUTIONER'S EDGE SEVERED WAR DRUMS]
[ONE IRON WILL MANIFESTATION DOMINATED ANOTHER]
[+200 XP BONUS]
[LEVEL UP!]
[LEVEL 9 → LEVEL 10]
[ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED: MANIFESTATION DOMINANCE]
[YOUR IRON WILL MANIFESTATION HAS DEFEATED ANOTHER]
[EXECUTIONER'S EDGE GAINS EXPERIENCE]
[MANIFESTATION GROWTH: +5%]
The notifications flooded Don's vision, but he barely registered them. He was staring at Bloodfang's corpse, at the clean severed neck, at the way the manifestation's death had been so… absolute.
[PERFECT.]
Madness's voice was almost reverent.
[You didn't just kill him, little seed. You DOMINATED him. Your manifestation proved superior. In the Abyss, in cultivation, that MATTERS. That has WEIGHT. The System acknowledged it. Your Edge grew stronger from consuming his manifestation's defeat.]
Don felt it—a subtle change in the blade hovering behind him. The Executioner's Edge felt sharper somehow. More present.
As if it had fed on something more than just blood.