Don looked toward the camp two kilometers back. Four hundred goblins waited there, leaderless, panicking, starving.
He had work to do.
His two Executioner's Edge blades materialized behind his shoulders, semi-transparent and ready.
Time to finish what he started.
Don moved through the Shadowfen with mechanical precision, his body protesting every step. The absorption of Vex's arm had left him drained—physically, mentally, spiritually. His mana sat at a pathetic 97 out of 3,960.
But he was moving. And with each step, his Immortality worked passively to restore him.
[MANA: 97/3,960] [REGENERATION: +10 MANA/MINUTE]
The two-kilometer journey took thirty minutes at his slower pace. Don didn't rush. Couldn't rush. His stamina was shot, his body still adjusting to the Stage 2 essence now layered into his being.
But with each passing minute, strength returned.
[MANA: 197/3,960]
Twenty minutes in, Don's breathing steadied. His muscles stopped trembling. The poison essence settled into its position as the sixth layer, no longer fighting for dominance.
[MANA: 297/3,960]
By the time Don crested the final rise overlooking the camp, he'd recovered enough to function. Three hundred mana wasn't much—barely seven percent of his total capacity—but it would be enough.
It had to be.
Don dropped to a crouch and activated Analyze, his yellow eye glowing faintly in the crimson twilight.
[ANALYZING CAMP STATUS...]
Population: 427 → 381 (declining) Status: CRITICAL CHAOS Leadership: NONE (Vroksh dead, Vex absent) Morale: SHATTERED Combat Effectiveness: 8% Food Supply: ZERO Sleep Deprivation: 72+ hours
[Oh, little seed. Look at them. Just LOOK.]
Don looked.
The camp was a nightmare of desperate violence. Bodies everywhere—not from his attacks, but from internal slaughter. Goblins fought goblins over nothing.
Over scraps of leather. Over space near dying fires. Over the mere possibility of food that didn't exist.
Three goblins tore into a fourth, literally eating it alive while it screamed.
Five warriors killed each other simultaneously in a brawl that had no clear cause or purpose.
A shaman stood atop a pile of corpses, raving in the goblin tongue about demons and shadows and the end of all things.
Don understood every word now. His Expert-level Goblin Language comprehension—gained from devouring Vex's arm—made the shaman's mad prophecies perfectly clear:
"The red-haired death comes! The shadow that bleeds! The executioner who eats our essence! We are already dead! DEAD! All of us DEAD!"
The shaman wasn't wrong.
[They've gone FERAL, little seed. You didn't just break their society—you reduced them to animals. No, WORSE than animals. Animals have survival instincts. These things? They're just... waiting to die.]
Don's tactical mind processed the scene with cold efficiency.
Three hundred mana. Enough for six fire spheres at fifty mana each. Or three lightning spears at eighty mana plus two fire spheres. Or sustained combat with both Executioner's Edge blades for thirty seconds.
Limited resources. Maximum efficiency required.
Strategy: ranged bombardment first to sow chaos, then close-quarters execution when mana reserves depleted.
Don raised his right hand and focused.
Elemental Manipulation. Fire.
[SKILL: ELEMENTAL MANIPULATION ACTIVATED] [ELEMENT: FIRE] [MANA COST: 50]
The sphere of flame materialized above his palm—white-hot, compressed, deadly. His Essence Fragment trait made the manipulation easier, more efficient.
The fire responded to his will like an extension of his body.
Don shaped it carefully, adding more heat, more density, until the sphere was the size of his head and hot enough to vaporize steel.
Then he threw it.
The fire sphere arced through darkness like a miniature sun, trailing sparks. Two hundred meters in three seconds.
It hit the center of the camp dead-center.
WHOOOOMP.
Flame erupted outward in a perfect sphere of annihilation. Tents vaporized. Goblins caught in the blast turned to ash before they could scream. The shockwave knocked dozens more off their feet.
[MANA: 247/3,960]
Immediate pandemonium. Goblins screaming, running in every direction, trampling each other in blind panic.
[BEAUTIFUL! Again! DO IT AGAIN!]
Don was already moving, circling left through the shadows. His Agility of 118 carried him silently through undergrowth while the camp's attention focused on the flames.
He repositioned one hundred meters clockwise and raised his hand again.
Second sphere. Fifty mana. Different target.
WHOOOOMP.
The eastern section exploded into flames.
Storage pits—already empty—became craters. The few remaining structures collapsed into burning wreckage.
[MANA: 197/3,960]
More screaming. More chaos. Don could see goblins fighting each other to escape the flames, their survival instincts overriding even basic cooperation.
Movement to his right—six goblins breaking away from the camp, fleeing into the forest. Don's enhanced Sense detected them clearly despite the darkness and smoke.
His left hand came up. Element switch.
Lightning.
[ELEMENT: LIGHTNING] [MANA COST: 80]
Blue-white energy crackled between his fingers, forming a spear of compressed electricity. The complex element required more focus, more mana, but his enhanced Intelligence of 105 and Wisdom of 108 made the calculations instinctive.
He threw the lightning spear.
It crossed two hundred meters in a fraction of a second—faster than sound, faster than thought. The spear hit the lead goblin and detonated.
CRACK-BOOOOM!
Thunder split the air. Lightning arced through all six fleeing goblins, their bodies convulsing as thousands of volts cooked them from inside. They dropped simultaneously, smoke rising from charred flesh.
[+120 XP]
[MANA: 117/3,960]
[Magnificent precision, little seed! But your mana is nearly depleted. One more ranged attack, maybe two if you're careful. Then it's blades and blood.]
Don surveyed the camp. Approximately three hundred goblins remained alive, scattered across the burning ruins. Most were wounded, exhausted, half-mad from starvation and sleep deprivation.
Dangerous in groups. Pathetic individually.
Time to get close.
Don descended toward the camp, his two Executioner's Edge blades hovering behind his shoulders in semi-transparent form.
He kept them incorporeal to conserve mana—no manifestation cost until he needed them solid.
Fifty meters from the camp perimeter. Forty. Thirty.
A goblin sentry—barely coherent, swaying on its feet—spotted him and raised a crude alarm horn.
Don's right blade solidified instantly and shot forward.
[IRON WILL ABILITY: WILL MANIFEST] [COST: 10 MANA/SECOND - SINGLE BLADE]
The guillotine blade crossed thirty meters in a heartbeat and took the sentry's head before the horn touched its lips.
[+20 XP]
Don recalled the blade and let it return to semi-transparent form. Ten mana spent. Worth it for maintaining surprise.
[MANA: 107/3,960]
He entered the camp proper.
The first goblin to see him froze—some primitive instinct recognizing the predator, the executioner, the inevitable death approaching. Its crude spear trembled in its hands.
Don's left blade materialized, swept horizontally, and took the goblin's head.
[+20 XP] [Death Parade: +8% damage (Stack 1/10)]
[There it is! Death Parade active! Every kill within eight seconds stacks your damage! Make them COUNT, little seed!]
Three more goblins charged from the right—desperate, starving, beyond rational fear. Don's right blade joined the left, both solidifying fully.
[COST: 10 MANA/SECOND - BOTH BLADES]
The blades moved in perfect synchronization. One high, one low. One thrust, one slash. The three goblins died before they closed half the distance.
[+60 XP] [Death Parade: +16% damage (Stack 2/10)]
[MANA: 87/3,960]
Don's tactical mind tracked mana expenditure with mechanical precision.
Twenty mana spent in two seconds of manifestation. At this rate, he had eight seconds of dual-blade combat remaining.
Make them count.
More goblins came—not organized, not tactical, just desperate creatures trying to reach the exit Don now blocked. They came in ones and twos, in small groups of five or six, each wave breaking against his blades like water against stone.
Slash. Thrust. Parry. Execute.
His two Executioner's Edge blades wove a pattern of death that nothing could cross.
One blade would attack while the other defended. They'd switch roles mid-combat, creating openings that Don exploited with surgical precision.
[+20 XP] [+20 XP] [+20 XP] [+35 XP] [+20 XP]
[Death Parade: +24% damage (Stack 3/10)]
[Death Parade: +32% damage (Stack 4/10)]
[Beautiful! The stacks are building! Your damage is increasing with every kill! This is what your class was MADE for, little seed!]
A goblin shaman emerged from behind a collapsed tent, staff raised, dark mana gathering for a spell. Don's yellow eye tracked the energy formation—some kind of curse, slow but powerful.
Too slow.
Don's right blade shot forward like a spear, covering fifteen meters instantly. It punched through the shaman's chest before the spell completed, the blade piercing straight through and emerging from the goblin's back.
[+35 XP]
[Death Parade: +40% damage (Stack 5/10)]
Don pulled the blade back and let both blades fade to semi-transparent, conserving mana.
[MANA: 27/3,960]
Twenty-seven mana remaining. Enough for two seconds of dual manifestation, or one lightning spear, or nothing if he wasn't careful.
[You're running on FUMES, little seed. But look around—they're TERRIFIED. They see you and they RUN. They know what you are. They know they're already DEAD.]
Don looked. Madness was right.
The remaining goblins—perhaps two hundred and fifty—were no longer trying to fight. They were trying to flee. Scattering in every direction, abandoning weapons, trampling the weak, thinking only of escape.
They wouldn't get it.
Don activated his Toxic Touch trait.
[TOXIC TOUCH: ACTIVE] [COST: 5 MANA/MINUTE]
The trait was passive once toggled—requiring only five mana per minute, not per second. Sustainable even with his depleted reserves.
Now every cut from his blades would inflict poison. Five damage per second for ten seconds. Not much, but it would stack with bleeding, with fear, with exhaustion.
Death by a thousand cuts made literal.
Don manifested his left blade only—conserving mana—and began the hunt.
[COST: 5 MANA/SECOND - SINGLE BLADE]
A fleeing goblin twenty meters ahead. Don's blade shot forward, cut deep across the goblin's back, and returned. The goblin stumbled, fell, began convulsing as poison entered its bloodstream.
[+20 XP]
[MANA: 22/3,960]
Another goblin, hiding in rubble. Don's blade found it, pierced its throat, withdrew. The goblin clutched the wound uselessly as poison spread.
[+20 XP]
[MANA: 17/3,960]
Don dismissed the blade entirely and switched tactics. His mana was critically low—seventeen points wouldn't sustain manifestation for even two seconds.
Time for direct combat.
Don's own hands would have to suffice.
He drew a crude sword from a dead goblin's corpse—low quality, but functional—and continued the slaughter on foot.
His enhanced physical stats made the work almost trivial. Strength of 118 let him cut through bone with cheap steel. Agility of 118 made him faster than any exhausted goblin.
Dexterity of 103 gave him perfect control.
He killed them one by one, methodically, efficiently.
Slash. Stab. Withdraw. Move to the next.
[+20 XP] [+20 XP] [+20 XP]
[Look at you, little seed. No mana. No special abilities. Just pure physical dominance.
You've become a MONSTER in the truest sense—superior to them in every measurable way. They can't run fast enough. Can't hide well enough. Can't fight back at all.]
The massacre continued for an hour.