Don circled Kragg's war camp for an hour, his Mini-Map tracking every patrol route, every guard rotation, every weakness in the defenses.
But the more he observed, the clearer the truth became:
There were no weaknesses.
Three thousand goblins. Eight hundred Stage 1 cultivators. Overlapping patrols. Watch towers with clear sightlines. Traps littering the approaches.
Kragg wasn't just a brute—he was a General for a reason. His camp was a fortress.
Don could spend days picking off patrols, weakening supplies, creating chaos. Guerrilla warfare. Death by a thousand cuts.
But that would give Kragg time to adapt. Time to call for reinforcements from other domains. Time to flee if he felt truly threatened.
No.
Don needed to end this quickly. Decisively. And there was only one way to guarantee that.
He descended from his observation point and walked directly toward the camp's main gate.
No stealth. No subtlety.
Just cold inevitability.
The guards saw him first.
Two watch towers flanked the massive bone-and-wood gate. Four goblin warriors stood at ground level, Stage 1 Level 2 by Don's Enemy Tracker assessment. In the towers, two shamans kept watch, their staffs glowing with detection magic.
One of the warriors—larger than the others, wearing crude plate armor made from scavenged metal—spotted Don approaching and raised a horn to its lips.
BRAAAAAAAAAAA!
The war horn's bellow echoed across the valley.
Within seconds, movement exploded throughout the camp. Warriors grabbed weapons. Shamans began chanting.
Commanders barked orders.
Don kept walking.
Fifty meters from the gate. Forty. Thirty.
The four gate guards formed a defensive line, spears raised. More warriors were rushing to reinforce them—dozens, then hundreds. The gate towers filled with archers, crude bows drawn.
Twenty meters.
"HALT!" The lead guard roared in the goblin tongue. Don's Auto-Translate converted it instantly. "You trespass on General Kragg's domain! State your purpose or die!"
Don stopped exactly fifteen meters from the gate. Close enough to be heard clearly. Far enough to react if they attacked en masse.
His four Executioner's Edge blades materialized behind him, two at each shoulder, hovering in semi-transparent form. The crimson veins pulsed with his heartbeat.
When Don spoke, he used the goblin language—his Expert-level mastery making the harsh, grinding words flow naturally:
"I am here for your General."
Silence.
Then laughter. Dozens of goblins laughing, the sound like breaking glass and grinding stone.
The lead guard's grin showed yellowed fangs. "You? One human? Come for General Kragg the Butcher?"
"Yes."
More laughter. But Don noticed some weren't laughing. The shamans in the towers. A few of the older warriors. They were looking at him with something else.
Recognition.
One of them whispered: "Red hair. Mismatched eyes. Four blades..."
Another: "The demon that killed Vex."
The laughter died.
Don continued, his voice carrying across the sudden silence: "I challenge General Kragg to single combat. A duel of honor. Warrior against warrior. No interference. No tricks. Just strength against strength."
The lead guard's grin faltered. "You... challenge the General? To honorable combat?"
"Yes."
"And if he refuses?"
Don's mismatched eyes—both showing spreading gold cracks—blazed with cold fire. "Then I will burn this camp to ash, kill every goblin inside, and drag him from whatever hole he hides in. His choice is simple: face me with honor, or die with shame."
"WHAT DID YOU SAY?!"
The voice was like an avalanche—deep, resonant, carrying physical force that made the gate guards flinch.
The war hall's entrance—that massive doorway made from a creature's skull—exploded outward.
And he emerged.
General Kragg the Butcher.
Seven feet of pure muscle and violence.
Arms like tree trunks, each one scarred from a thousand battles. His skin was dark green, almost black, covered in ritual scars that formed patterns of kill-counts. A necklace of human finger bones hung around his neck—hundreds of them, clacking with each movement.
In his right hand, he carried his signature weapon:
The Cleaver.
Forged from melted-down human weapons—swords, spears, armor—all compressed and folded into a single massive blade. Four feet of dark metal, its edge gleaming despite being coated in dried blood that never fully washed away.
[GENERAL KRAGG DETECTED]
[STAGE 2, LEVEL 5]
[THREAT ASSESSMENT: EXTREME]
Kragg walked through his warriors like they were grass, his presence forcing them to part. He stopped ten meters from the gate, his burning eyes fixed on Don.
When he spoke, his voice made the ground tremble:
"You."
Not a question. An acknowledgment.
"You killed Vex. Destroyed his domain. Three camps. Sixteen hundred goblins. All dead."
Don said nothing. Just held Kragg's gaze.
Kragg's mouth twisted into something that might have been a smile. "And now you come here. To my domain. To challenge me."
"Yes."
"Alone."
"Yes."
Kragg threw his head back and laughed—not mockery, but genuine amusement.
"HAHAHAHA! You have BALLS, human! Tiny human balls, but BALLS nonetheless!"
He pointed his cleaver at Don. "What is your name, challenger? I like to know the names of warriors before I kill them."
"Don Valdruun."
"Don... Valdruun..." Kragg rolled the name around his mouth like he was tasting it. "A weak name. But your actions—your actions are STRONG! You fight. You kill. You don't run. You don't hide. You come to me like a TRUE warrior!"
The General planted his cleaver in the ground with enough force to crack stone. "I accept your challenge, Don Valdruun! Single combat! Warrior against warrior! The strong will live! The weak will DIE!"
He turned to his army—three thousand goblins watching from walls, towers, buildings. "NO ONE INTERFERES! This is HONORABLE COMBAT! Any goblin who strikes this human before I kill him—I will EAT ALIVE! Understood?!"
A massive roar of acknowledgment.
Kragg grinned, showing fangs like daggers. "The arena. We fight in the ARENA. Open space. No tricks. Just blood and death."
He gestured toward the camp's center, where a massive pit had been dug—gladiatorial combat space, the ground stained dark with old blood.
Don nodded once. "Lead the way."
The walk through the camp was surreal.
Three thousand goblins lined the path, watching in absolute silence. Warriors. Shamans. Non-cultivators. All of them staring at the human who'd challenged their General.
Some looked excited. Some looked hungry. Some looked... respectful?
[They see you as prey, little seed. But also... as a warrior. How delicious. They'll cheer when you die. Or when you WIN~]
Madness's whisper was almost giddy.
The arena was massive—a circular pit fifty meters in diameter, walls ten meters high. The ground was hard-packed earth mixed with sand, stained rust-brown from centuries of blood.
Kragg jumped into the pit, his landing cracking the ground. He looked up at Don, cleaver raised. "Come, human! Show me if you're as strong as your reputation!"
Don's four Executioner's Edge blades solidified fully as he dropped into the arena.
They spread around him in perfect formation, two high, two low, all waiting for his command.
[IRON WILL ABILITY: WILL MANIFEST] [COST: 8 MANA/SECOND]
The crowd roared.
Three thousand voices screaming for blood.
Kragg rolled his shoulders, bones cracking like gunshots. "I've killed three hundred humans in this arena. Knights. Heroes. Champions. All of them DIED. You'll be number three hundred and one!"
He raised his cleaver high. "And when you're dead, I'll add your finger bones to my necklace! Your skull to my throne! Your name to my kill-count!"
Don said nothing. His Emotion Suppression kept everything cold, analytical, tactical.
Target: General Kragg Stage 2, Level 5
Power gap: 4 levels
Advantages: Strength, experience, size, reach
Disadvantages: Slow, predictable, overconfident
Victory probability: 34%
Not good odds. But Don had faced worse.
He had his blades. His speed. His techniques.
And his Fate Points.
[FATE POINTS: 2/15]
Two points. Not many, but enough if used correctly.
Kragg slammed his cleaver into the ground, and the arena shook. "Are you ready to die, Don Valdruun?!"
Don's four blades began to orbit him slowly, like planets around a sun.
"Come and find out."
BRAAAAAAAAAA!
The war horn sounded.
The duel began.
Kragg moved first.
For something so massive, he was fast. His Stage 2 body propelled him forward in a blur, closing twenty-five meters in two seconds. His cleaver came down in an overhead chop that would have split Don in half.
Don activated his superior Agility—193 versus Kragg's estimated 140—and dodged.
Not backward. Sideways.
The cleaver hit where Don had been standing and cratered the ground, sending up a spray of earth and stone.
Don's first blade struck while Kragg was committed to the swing—aiming for the back of the General's knee, the joint, the vulnerable point.
CLANG!
The blade met resistance—not armor, but Kragg's skin. The Stage 2 body was dense enough to deflect a normal strike.
But Don's blade wasn't normal. It carved a shallow cut, drawing blood.
First blood to Don.
Kragg roared—not in pain, but in joy. "YES! You can hurt me! GOOD! That makes this FUN!"
He spun, faster than something his size should move, and his cleaver came in a horizontal slash aimed at Don's torso.
Don's second and third blades intercepted, crossing to form an X-block.
The impact sent shockwaves through Don's manifestations. The blades held, but barely. The force pushed Don back three meters, his boots digging trenches in the arena floor.
[Strength difference, little seed! He's MUCH stronger!]
Don already knew. Kragg's Strength was probably over 250—nearly seventy points higher than Don's 188.
Direct blocks wouldn't work. He needed to evade and counter.
Kragg charged again, this time following up with a combination—overhead chop, horizontal slash, rising uppercut with the cleaver's blunt edge.
Three attacks in two seconds.
Don's four blades moved independently, each one intercepting a different angle. One blocked high. One parried left. One deflected the uppercut.
The fourth blade struck at Kragg's exposed ribs.
Slash!
Deeper cut this time. Blood flowed freely—dark red, almost black.
[+0 XP] (enemy still alive)
Kragg laughed and swung again, this time adding a kick mid-combo.
Don saw it coming—his enhanced Sense and combat experience reading the telegraph. He activated his newest ability:
[EXECUTIONER OF FATE - CLASS ABILITY]
[DASH]
[COST: 20 MANA]
[COOLDOWN: 10 SECONDS]
Don blinked ten meters backward instantly, appearing outside Kragg's attack range.
The crowd gasped.
Kragg's eyes widened. "What—"
Don's four blades shot forward like bullets, attacking from four different angles simultaneously.
Kragg blocked two with his cleaver, but the other two scored hits—one across his chest, one along his left arm.
More blood.
"Clever!" Kragg grinned, his expression wild. "You fight like Zyx—fast, tricky! But I've fought Zyx HUNDREDS of times! I know how to kill FAST ENEMIES!"
Kragg raised his cleaver and brought it down with devastating force.
Not at Don.
At the GROUND.
BOOOOM!
The impact was like a bomb detonating. The arena floor shattered, creating a crater ten meters wide. The shockwave knocked Don off his feet, sending him tumbling backward.
[STAMINA: 177 → 167]
Don's enhanced Vitality absorbed most of the impact, but the landing hurt.
He rolled to his feet just in time to see Kragg leaping—that massive body airborne, cleaver raised, coming down like a meteor.
No time to dodge.
Don activated his second Fate Point ability:
[FATE POINT USED]
[ABILITY: INEVITABLE STRIKE]
[EFFECT: NEXT ATTACK GUARANTEED CRITICAL HIT]
[COST: 1 FATE POINT]
[REMAINING: 1/15]
Don's first blade—his primary Executioner's Edge—blazed with power. The crimson veins pulsed brighter, the midnight steel seeming to drink in the light itself.
He didn't dodge Kragg's falling strike.
He countered.
His blade shot upward, aimed not at Kragg's cleaver, but at his wrist—the joint, the weak point, the place where bone met tendon.
Time seemed to slow.
Kragg's cleaver descended like judgment.
Don's blade rose like execution.
They met.
CRACK!
Don's blade—empowered by Inevitable Strike, guided by perfect precision, amplified by his Stage 2 essence—bit through Kragg's wrist.
Not completely. The General's Stage 2 body was too dense for that.
But it cut deep. Through skin. Through muscle. Into bone.
Kragg's cleaver flew from his suddenly nerveless fingers, spinning through the air and embedding itself in the arena wall.
The General landed badly, his right hand hanging limp, blood pouring from the massive wound.
The crowd went silent.
General Kragg the Butcher—undefeated in three hundred battles—had been disarmed.
Kragg stared at his ruined wrist, then at Don, then laughed.
"HAHAHAHA! EXCELLENT! You're not just fast—you're SMART! You aimed for the weak point! You used the perfect moment!"
He flexed his left hand, and something shifted in his body. His muscles bulged. His eyes blazed brighter. His Stage 2 essence flared.
[WARNING: ENEMY ABILITY ACTIVATED] [BERSERK RAGE - STRENGTH +50%, PAIN IMMUNITY, DURATION: 5 MINUTES]
Kragg's aura became visible—crimson energy radiating from his body like heat waves.
"Now we fight for REAL!"
He charged faster than before, his left fist coming at Don like a battering ram.
Don's four blades moved to block—
SMASH!
The force was insane. All four blades together barely stopped the punch, and the impact sent Don skidding backward twenty meters, his boots leaving deep grooves in the ground.
[MANA: 6,688 → 6,488] (maintaining 4 blades under extreme pressure)
Kragg didn't stop. He followed up with a barrage of punches, each one powerful enough to crater stone. His ruined right hand hung useless, but his left was a weapon of mass destruction.
Don couldn't block them all. He had to evade.
His Agility carried him through Kragg's assault—ducking, weaving, dodging by centimeters. His four blades counterattacked when openings appeared, scoring cuts across Kragg's chest, arms, legs.
Death by a thousand cuts.
But Kragg was in Berserk Rage. He felt no pain. And his Stamina seemed endless.
Don's tactical mind calculated rapidly.
Current mana: 6,248/9,250
Stamina: 167/177
Berserk duration: 4 minutes remaining
Probability of outlasting rage: 67%
Probability of victory after rage ends: 89%
The math was clear: survive the Berserk, then finish him.
Don activated Execution Field.
[EXECUTION FIELD: ACTIVATED] [RADIUS: 10 METERS]
[COST: 50 MANA ACTIVATION + 10 MANA/MINUTE]
[EFFECTS: ALL ENEMIES WITHIN FIELD SUFFER -20% STATS, FEAR EFFECT, AUTOMATIC MARK OF DEATH]
The air around Don became heavy.
Oppressive. Like standing in the shadow of the guillotine itself.
Kragg entered the field and immediately felt it—his movements slowed fractionally, his strength decreased slightly, and something primal in his brain screamed DANGER.
But he was Berserk. Fear meant nothing.
He kept attacking.
For three minutes, they fought.
Kragg's left fist versus Don's four blades and superior speed. The General's raw power versus Don's technique and tactical superiority.
The arena floor was torn apart. Blood—both red and dark—painted the ground. The crowd watched in absolute silence, unable to look away from the most spectacular duel they'd ever witnessed.
Don accumulated dozens of shallow cuts from near-misses and shockwaves. His stamina dropped steadily.
[STAMINA: 167 → 147]
But Kragg was bleeding. Hundreds of cuts. His left arm was shredded. His chest looked like it had been through a meat grinder.
And his Berserk was ending.
[BERSERK RAGE: 10 SECONDS REMAINING]
Don saw the shift—Kragg's movements becoming fractionally slower, his attacks losing their edge.
Time to end this.
Don created a Thunderstone Lance while dodging—the fastest he'd ever made it, pure muscle memory and practice.
[COST: 160 MANA] (even more optimized)
Kragg saw the lance materialize and grinned.
"GOOD! Show me your BEST!"
Don threw with his full strength.
The lance flew straight and true.
Kragg tried to dodge—too slow, too injured, too exhausted.
It took him in the left shoulder.
CRACK-BOOOOM!
The lightning detonated, electricity coursing through Kragg's body. The General roared, not in pain but in pure defiance.
He ripped the stone shaft from his shoulder with his teeth and charged one final time.
His Berserk ended mid-charge.
Suddenly, Kragg felt everything. The hundreds of cuts. The shattered wrist. The lightning burns. The exhaustion.
He stumbled.
Don's four blades converged.
[EXECUTIONER'S JUDGMENT - ENHANCED]
[CHARGES: 2/2]
[COST: 30 MANA PER CHARGE]
Both charges activated simultaneously.
Two of Don's blades became ghostly, phasing between reality and concept. They ignored Kragg's dense Stage 2 body, passing through flesh like it was air.
They emerged from inside the General's chest, having carved through his heart and lungs.
The other two blades struck from the sides, severing major arteries.
Kragg stopped moving.
He looked down at the four blades impaling him from different angles, at the blood pouring from a dozen fatal wounds, at his own cleaver still embedded in the wall far away.
Then he looked at Don.
And smiled.
"Good... death..."
He collapsed.
[GENERAL KRAGG THE BUTCHER - DEFEATED]
[+1,500 XP] [+5,000 KP]
The arena was silent.
Three thousand goblins stared in disbelief.
Their General—undefeated, unstoppable, the Butcher—had fallen.
To a human.
To Don Valdruun.
Don recalled his blades and stood over Kragg's corpse, breathing hard, his body aching from a hundred impacts, but alive.
[Oh, little seed. LITTLE SEED! That was MAGNIFICENT!]
Madness's voice was ecstatic.
[Now eat him. Eat him and become STRONGER!]
Don looked at the thousands of goblins watching from above. They were still processing what they'd witnessed.
Would they honor Kragg's command? Or would they attack?
The answer came from an unexpected source.
One goblin—a scarred veteran warrior—raised his weapon and slammed it against his shield.
CLANG!
Then another. And another.
Within seconds, all three thousand were doing it.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
Not an attack. A salute.
A warrior's tribute to a worthy opponent.
Don had won not just the duel, but their respect.
He knelt beside Kragg's corpse and began the familiar, necessary work.
Time to devour a General.
And discover what happened when a Stage 2, Level 1 consumed a Stage 2, Level 5.