PSI screamed as he stepped down on the ground, his leg busted. He was surprised. That was literally not expected. All this time, he was busy running away.
He jumped off a mountain feeling like Tarzan. He hit the ground, still feeling the pain of a busted leg, yet he… he didn't scream. It was less painful as hell. But it all happens for a reason.
He always thought, what's worse than death? But sometimes not being able to die is a lifetime pain, a curse that can't fade. Although it's not always true, think about dying again and again.
Maybe it's because he was way more perseverant than he usually was. Holding the pain inside, a tear fell off—although it was just one of his eyes, and it was only once. Nothing to exaggerate about. He wiped his tear while his resurrection reset his body into the state where he was one minute ago.
The whole pack of goblins—no, the whole race of goblins—was heavily shocked. The goblins were over five thousand. Slowly, the roaring sounds of the goblin pack decreased. The front goblins near the mountain made a commotion about him surviving. They all jumped, fell on the ground, stood up, and even wiped their faces, just like he did with the single droplet of tear he had.
The others immediately understood it. As soon as they did, some of them ran, spreading the hilarious moment and weird resurrection. So, in a matter of a minute, almost over half of the population already heard it and were rushing to the exact place.
The ground was a beautiful beach. The mountain covered them from the other side of the island, and in order to go to the other side, they had to take the curved path or the leftover edge of the island that was almost taken by the mountain.
But why should they do it? I mean, come on—we're talking about low-intelligence beings here. As for how the dark goblin did it, even though it was just darker than the other goblins, stayed a mystery in the pathless mind. For their level of intelligence, making a perfect rope and even using it to climb a 50-meter-tall mountain is like humans creating a stair that begins on Earth and ends on the Moon.
PSI looked like he didn't even need to fight them. He could actually trap them. The fastest way was to burn them all, and whoever ran back, he would have to kill. His life now was like being recapped into a movie. Making it a fascinating one was up to him, and for one movie to be so cinematic, there must be an insane amount of blood.
Otherwise, the myth gods wouldn't like it. He might as well grab their attention at the beginning with a massive genocidal scene.
But things didn't go his way, because he had to throw his eyes everywhere to search for that one little tragic view. Humans burning alive, limbs of males and females all hanging on trees. Goblins wearing human heads as hats—some were even using them as chairs.
This screamed one fact: he could never even hope to live for a second. Right after the commotion, right after the laugh… he was dead.
With a cold look, he grabbed the throat of the goblin near him and pulled it out. That's when the second commotion fired.
He thought to himself, looking at his hand with the goblin's throat extremely stretched, its neck pulled out:
'So you goblins are way too unintelligent and weak physically and even naturally compared to the dark goblin. No kidding. Well, every character begins with a goblin, so why not me? Looks even cool when I play Tarzan.'
PSI pulled out another one with his other hand and looked at them, raising his tilted head. The goblins' mouths looked much worse as they stretched wide open, resembling a bear cave. With that shocked look on their faces, they all clenched their fists.
But no one moved until a throne rose up high in midair. On the throne sat a monster. A monster recognized from far beyond the edges of the mountain. THE GOBLIN KING. His size was that of hundreds of goblins. His eyes glowed bright red. His green aura formed a goblin shape in the sky, laughing. The aura that formed a goblin head high above the ground laughed. It laughed.
Unlike the other goblins, this one knew how to talk. It was the Goblin King himself, using a giant goblin head to speak. Not every goblin was necessarily shocked or scared—they were confused. As low-intelligence monsters, all they knew was running around doing whatever they just did without thinking. But as long as the presence of the Goblin King remained, they wouldn't be able to do anything without his command. Nothing at all.
He had to laugh… what else would they do but laugh in this seriously annoying situation? PSI sighed.
"Again, what a bunch of weirdos. Then again, the guy ain't a joke. He ain't someone I can mess with, even with me barely looking at him, since he appears like a dot. I mean, the only thing scaring me is the head, since I can clearly see it. So all these are pawns, and that one is the king. What's the best way to kill a pack of monsters like goblins? Kill the king and confuse the pawns."
While ready to run and attack, he made that iconic running stance he saw in the recent Flash movie. He dashed forward at full speed.
Still, he ain't no Flash—not even Usain Bolt. I mean, come on, he ain't even running like IShowSpeed just waking up from sleep. He just jogged or something. He wasn't physically fit. But that was that, and they didn't even take a second before cutting off his legs.
He slept on the ground like a helpless child. All he could see were goblins jumping over one another to lay their hands on him. Pleasing the king with whatever desire he had was their main priority.
He had to resurrect back and survive a minute with minimal damage. If he turned one minute back before waiting a minute in his new resurrected body, he would ultimately return to the state he was in. In short, he would return to being without legs.
So he ran back, dodging all the attacks. Right after a minute, he returned with even more speed and more intent to kill. The more focused he was on his goal, the better the results.
All these goblins were like shouting passengers on a train slowing down with choo-choo—the train whistle. He had to pass all the passengers and enter the train. He had to fight the king first. For what it was worth, he might actually make his new plan work.
But he paused with a blank expression, realizing he needed to be smart and do things perfectly without losing touch of the broadcast and his goals.
In the end, he fell into deep thought, conflicting inside.
'Why am I trying to fight the king first? My plan is to kill the king and confuse the pawns, hoping the goblins would fight each other—but that chance is nothing but a shackle. I lived my life hoping one day my life would change for the better. In the end, I didn't do it right. This is not being smart. I'm just using shortcuts, hoping luck will fill the rest. In this situation, it has nothing to do with being smart. I would have been smart if I had a way to retreat from this fight—but there is no retreat. So fighting until the end, experiencing every moment as long as I won't die. That's right. No need to rush. I will kill every last one of them, even if I have to die over ten thousand times.'
He kept killing them, on and on.
Going insane, on and on. Blood poured from their bodies as he learned to fight, as he adapted to counterattacks, as he learned to go with the flow.
Around two thousand were dead.
But on such a short island, he kept killing them nonstop for a full month.
But now that the Goblin King saw the core of him—pure perseverance—
The Goblin King stood from his seat. As soon as he did, his twelve guardian goblins with twelve elemental magics ascended from the sky, each with their own ten thousand warriors.
120,000 divine magician-blessed goblins ascended.