The charge shattered the moment Roman broke formation.
He surged ahead with shield raised, boots tearing through brush and loose soil, rage burning so hot it drowned out everything else. George swore under his breath and pushed forward immediately, Erica already moving beside him, spear lowered as they tried to close the distance before Roman reached the enemy alone.
Too slow.
The hobgoblin rose from the boulder in one smooth motion.
It didn't advance.
It didn't rush.
Instead, it lifted its head and barked a sharp command in guttural goblin tongue—short, precise, practiced.
The clearing moved.
Five goblins at the front charged at Roman, daggers flashing as they swarmed him from multiple angles.
Roman raised his shield just in time. Metal rang as blades struck again and again, the force driving him back a step but failing to pierce through.
Roman tried to slash back—once, twice—but every time his sword arm moved, another dagger lunged for the gap.
He was forced to keep the shield high, taking hit after hit, anger turning into something frantic as the goblins swarmed him.
"Roman!" George shouted, breaking into a sprint.
George closed the distance fast.
Erica was only a step behind him, spear angled low, eyes already tracking the gaps in the goblins' movement. Roman was still on his feet—but barely holding ground now, shield battered from all sides as daggers stabbed in quick, darting motions meant to exhaust rather than kill.
The hobgoblin didn't look at Roman again.
Its command had already been obeyed.
Six goblins peeled away from the main group, splitting cleanly into two teams of three. They didn't rush. They didn't shout.
They moved wide.
Osric saw it immediately.
"Left and right," he said sharply.
William stopped mid-step, axe coming up as he turned. Laurent was already shifting position, spear lowering, body angling to keep both flanks in view.
The goblins hit seconds later.
Three from the left burst out of the brush, daggers raised, low and fast. Osric stepped forward instead of back, iron sword snapping out in a tight arc that caught the first goblin across the throat. It went down without a sound.
William roared and charged the second, axe coming down in a brutal overhead strike that split shoulder and chest in one blow. The third goblin skidded to a halt, reassessing.
On the right, Laurent moved like a machine.
His spear thrust once—clean, direct—punching through a goblin's chest before it could even commit. He pivoted, shaft snapping sideways to knock another off balance, then finished it with a short follow-up thrust.
Six goblins.
Dead in moments.
Too clean.
Osric's stomach tightened.
"Wait," he said.
The clearing didn't feel right.
George was fully engaged now, sword crashing into the goblins surrounding Roman, Erica's spear darting in precise, lethal strikes whenever an opening appeared. The hobgoblin still hadn't joined the fight—just watched, calculating.
And something was missing.
Osric scanned the clearing again.
Fourteen goblins.
Five on Roman.
Six just eliminated.
That left—
"Three," Osric muttered.
Too late.
The forest behind them exploded into motion.
Three goblins burst from the trees at their rear, having looped wide during the chaos. They charged hard, daggers aimed for backs and hamstrings—an ambush meant to cripple, not kill.
Osric spun instantly.
"Behind!"
He moved without waiting.
The first goblin lunged—Osric stepped inside the strike and drove his iron blade up through its ribs. Pain flared as a dagger grazed his side from the second, but he ignored it and kicked the goblin back into William's path.
William didn't miss.
The axe came across in a brutal horizontal swing, taking the goblin's head clean off.
The third hesitated.
That was its mistake.
Laurent's spear took it through the face.
Silence fell again—brief, fragile, already breaking.
Osric exhaled sharply and looked back toward the center of the clearing.
Roman was still alive—but barely holding. George and Erica were locked in now, cutting goblins down, but the formation was shattered.
And the hobgoblin finally moved.
It stepped off the boulder.
Iron sword in hand.
Eyes fixed on Roman.
Osric tightened his grip.
The real fight was about to begin.
And this time, there would be no room for mistakes.
George's blade came free from the last goblin's body as Erica's spear ripped out of another.
The final two collapsed almost simultaneously—one choking, the other already still.
"Clear!" Erica snapped.
But the clearing didn't calm.
It detonated.
The hobgoblin moved the instant its underlings fell.
It didn't hesitate. Didn't roar. Didn't posture.
It charged.
Straight at Roman.
George's eyes widened. "Roman—fall back!"
Too late.
The hobgoblin crossed the distance with frightening speed, its heavy frame driving forward, iron sword gripped in its single remaining arm. Every step slammed power through its legs and into the ground, momentum building with each stride.
Roman barely had time to turn.
The sword came down like a cleaver—not from arm strength, but from its whole body behind the blow.
Iron slammed into wood and iron with a deafening crack.
Roman's shield bent inward under the impact, the force blasting through his arms and chest. His feet left the ground.
He was thrown backward.
He hit hard, skidding across dirt and roots before crashing into a tree with a sickening thud. The shield fell from his arm, bent inward so deeply it barely resembled its original shape.
George and Erica reached the hobgoblin a heartbeat later.
Erica's spear thrust in low, forcing the creature to twist aside instead of pressing the advantage. George's sword followed immediately, cutting across its ribs—not deep, but enough to make it recoil.
The hobgoblin snarled and staggered back a step.
But it didn't fall.
Osric felt his grip tighten.
Roman lay crumpled against the tree, gasping, blood already seeping through torn armor.
And now—finally—
There was no chaos left.
No goblins.
No distractions.
Just six people.
And one monster that had just proven it could still break a D-rank adventurer in a single blow.
George didn't charge blindly.
He shouted at the backline.
"You three—hold positions!" he barked. "Nobody rushes in!"
The hobgoblin straightened slowly, iron sword dragging briefly against the ground as it lifted its head again.
Its eyes weren't wild.
They were focused.
The real fight had begun.
And this time, one mistake would be enough to get someone killed.