The rain had died down to a drizzle by the time the distant gate came into view. The wind was cold, and his soaked hair and underclothes felt like sheets of ice pressed against his skin. Still, Dean didn’t falter. He kept up a relentless pace, somewhere between a brisk walk and a jog as he headed back towards the town. He was certain now that what he’d scented hadn’t been a fluke. The arrow shaft proved as much.

  There were Goblins in these woods, and where there were a few, there were always more. They were pack animals, after all. But what made them most dangerous wasn’t just their pack mentality. Goblins were sentient monsters, and that meant that they were capable of thought, communication, and most importantly, strategy.

  How many times had Dean seen the aftermath of the traps they laid for unsuspecting humans? How many times had he heard tales of townsfolk being lured to their deaths by the trickery of a Goblin pack? They were cunning, vicious creatures, and their presence here likely only meant one thing.

  Somewhere here in the south, there had been a Dungeon break. And Dean was going to have to find it. He was so lost in his own thoughts and the rhythm of his jogging steps that he almost failed to notice the lack of guards at the front gate. Dean came to a halt on the road, his senses probing for any sign of the Watchmen he’d passed on the way in.

  He had snuck his way out, hoping not to have to explain his midnight stroll to the town guards if he was, in fact, wrong. But now the importance of his news far outweighed the potential consequences of breaking the local curfew.

  And yet his senses found no essence signatures nearby. The gate stood partially open, swaying back and forth on old hinges in the breeze. That it was entirely unmanned was.. odd. But not as odd as the lack of torches moving through the town. It was as if the town itself had gone almost entirely dark but for a small bonfire in the distance. The flames flickered across the walls of the distant houses, casting strange shadows all around. In the distance, he could hear something. The clanging of a bell? No…

  Dean’s heart stopped as his mind caught up with the scene before him. That was no town bonfire at the village center. The flame that now licked upwards like fiery fingers reaching for the sky was spreading. And that sound that he’d heard – the sound of metal on metal.

  “Shit,” Dean sprinted forward, drawing his sword from his back as he ran towards the rising flames. He could see them now, what he’d missed in the dark. Bodies. Several watchmen lay in bloody pools in the street, black fletched arrows protruding from chinks in their armor. There were at least three of them, and from the desperate sound of battle up ahead, he feared there might be more.

  The wind shifted, and Dean’s stomach rolled when he caught the sickly scent of sweetest rot in the air. It was the smell of carrion. The scent that always accompanied all Goblins because of their love of consuming human flesh.

  Water from the storm was flowing steadily down the cobblestone street towards the gate. Dean sloshed through it, trying to ignore the red stain mixing with the water. Goblin's blood, he told himself. Not human. Please not human. He caught sight of the first Goblin as he rounded the corner of a row of houses. It had a bow slung over its back, and in its grimy green fist it clutched a long, curved sword.

  The silhouettes of several villagers crouched at the end of the alleyway. A boy stood apart from them, a broomstick clutched in his hands. He was young, no older than seven or eight by Dean’s estimate. His grip on the makeshift weapon was wrong, and it was clear his knees were trembling. But as the Goblin approached him, he held his ground.

  “Stay back,” he shouted, his voice echoing off the lonely house walls. “I’ll kill you if I have to.”

  The Goblin let out a high cackle, its tongue lolling out in a grotesque mockery of a smile. Behind him, the two small girls, presumably his baby sisters, cowered. The boy let out a whimper as the creature continued forward, lifting the sword to its mouth and running its tongue along the blade.

  “Young meat,” it rasped out, its yellow eyes gleaming in the darkness. “Tender.”

  “We’ll not be your dinner,” said the boy, puffing out his chest as he stepped in front of his sisters. He was a child, no taller than Dean’s hip. And yet, despite it all, he showed courage that Dean had seen grown men lack on the battlefield. He swept into the alleyway, closing the distance between him and his target with silent steps. The boy’s gaze flicked to him, his eyes going wide when he saw the giant sword in his hand. Dean raised a gloved finger to his lips.

  The Goblin seemed oblivious to his presence as it slunk forward, raising its curved blade high enough to catch the moonlight.

  “Close your eyes,” Dean ordered calmly. The boy dropped the broomstick, clapping his hands over his eyes. At the same time, he knelt down, shielding the view of his younger siblings. The Goblin reacted to Dean’s words, spinning faster than he expected with its teeth bared. Unfortunately for it, Dean was already swinging his sword. The goblin's head fell to the ground with a thud as its body swayed. Its sword dropped first, clattering against the stones. Then its body followed suit.

  “It’s over,” said Dean, flicking the blood from his blade and moving forward. His Mana focus skill made him aware of several unknown essence signatures coming his way through the maze of houses, but they were still a ways off. “Are you hurt?”

  The boy lowered his hands from his eyes, and Dean saw the streaks of tears on his face. He shook his head.

  “No, I don’t think so. But my momma,” he glanced at his sisters, one of whom had begun to sniffle. “My momma is…”

  Dean crouched before the boy, resting a hand on his shoulder. If the Goblins had made it this far into town, then there were bound to be casualties.

  I should have been here. I shouldn’t have left them.

  “Your mother,” Dean forced past the lump in his throat. “Did the Goblins hurt her?”

  The boy surprised him by shaking his head.

  “They didn’t kill her. We were saying our evening prayers by our beds when they broke in. Momma tried to stop them, but she wasn’t strong enough. The overwhelmed her and dragged her away. I tried to stop them but,” his eyes welled with tears, and he looked away, ashamed.

  “You did well,” said Dean gently, ruffling the kid's hair. “You stayed with your sisters to protect them. That’s what a big brother is meant to do.”

  The hostile essence signatures were almost upon them, and Dean knew he didn’t have time for pleasantries.

  “You said they dragged her off. Do you know what direction they went in?”

  The boy shook his head.

  “I don’t know.. it happened so fast and…”

  Dean nodded and glanced down at the curved sword the Goblin had dropped on the ground. It was old and far too heavy for a boy that young to properly wield. Instead, he stooped, picking up the broomstick and breaking the end over his knee. Then he used the honed edge of the dropped sword to whittle one end into a point.

  “There,” he said, handing it over. “Now you have a proper spear.”

  He tried several of the house doors until he found one open. The door swung inward, and Dean neatly intercepted the frying pan blow that rushed towards him from the side.

  “God's balls!” hissed the old woman, her eyes nearly popping from her skull at the sight of him. “My apologies Adventurer I thought… I thought you were one of them. The lock on my door’s been broken since spring and that bastard of a locksmith still hasn’t gotten around to fixing it..” she trailed off as Dean raised a finger to his lips before gesturing to the three children huddled at the end of the alleyway.

  “Do you know them?” he asked. The woman nodded.

  “Aye, those are Leah’s three. “My gods is she…?”

  “I don’t know. Listen, I can’t take them with me, and out here they’re vulnerable. Can you take them in? See to it that they're cared for at least until the night is done. I don’t know how many of them there are, or how long it will take to drive them out of this town. But I need to know the little ones are safe.”

  The old woman lowered the frying pan, nodding as she gestured to the children.

  “Come on then,” she said. “This nice man said he’s going to kill all the Goblins for us. Let’s do our best to stay inside and out of his way.”

  The little girls rushed inside, throwing their arms around the old woman’s knees. She shushed them as they sobbed, reminding them to be quiet. Dean caught the boy’s shoulder on the threshold and gestured to the broomstick.

  “I pray you won’t have to use it,” he said. “But if you do put your grip here and here,” he guided the boys hands the same way Captain Ripley had guided his on the first day of training. “Grip firm but not too hard. When it comes at you, you thrust,” he made a thrusting motion with his arms.

  “But.. but what if I’m not strong enough?” asked the boy, his bottom lip trembling. “Those things wear armor. What if I can’t kill one?”

  “You can,” said Dean firmly. “That’s why you keep the end against the ground. When it charges you, its weight will drive it unto the point. You only need to be strong enough to hold it and thrust.” He mimicked the thrusting motion again.

  “Can you do that?” The boy nodded, determination sparking in his eyes.

  “Yes sir.”

  Dean nodded and gestured to the woman.

  “Bar the door,” he said. “Heavy furniture, firewood. Whatever you have. Ensure that nothing can get through here without a fight.”

  The woman started to respond, but Dean was already turned, striding towards the threat that now approached. The two Goblin warriors had no time to react as Dean stepped around the corner swinging. His first strike lopped the arm off of a Goblin carrying a spear, sending it stumbling into its fellow. But his second blow was backed by the power of his essence. Dean’s essence surged through him as he cleaved through the two Goblins with enough force to cut them in two. Blood and viscera sprayed across the cobblestones, joining the stream of water that flowed downhill.

  Dean was already stepping over the bodies before they hit the ground, his senses scanning for more signs of life. He could feel more Goblins scattered around the town, but most were in small groups of one or two. The main mass is clustered somewhere in the center. Near the source of the fire.

  Its yellow-orange flames licked up towards the stormy sky, belching smoke into the air. How a fire could maintain itself, let alone spread, in this weather was unclear to him. It shouldn’t have been possible. Then again, a Goblin attack on a town with no warning was already unlikely. The sound of metal on metal grew louder the closer Dean drew to the flames. Before him, he could see the flickering shadows of men struggling against a Goblin throng.

  Six watchmen clustered together behind a makeshift barrier of broken beams and debris. With them were several villagers, only some of whom were armed. The throng of Goblins pressed in on them, cackling as they inched forward. There must have been at least twenty of them, maybe more.

  With their superior numbers and the goblin archers he sensed perched on the rooftop of a nearby building, Dean realized with a grimace that the goblin pack was merely playing with its food.

  “Hold your ground,” called one of the Watchmen as he lifted his shield. Dean recognized him as the young guard who had been manning the gate. He’d lost his helmet somewhere in the fray, and Dena could see blood leaking from a wound on the side of his head. But despite it all, the man stood tall. “Bastards are trying to wear us down,” he growled, lifting his sword. “We have to hold our own until reinforcements arrive.”

  “What reinforcements?” said one of the villagers. She seemed on the edge of hysterics. “Those Adventuerers have abandoned us, and any garrison that arrives from Bridgeport will be here in time to greet our corpses.”

  A chorus of agreement went up from the crowd. The villagers were losing hope. Dean scanned the faces, looking for any sign of Tasha, but he couldn’t see her among them. Was she still in the inn? There was no time to search now. He needed to free up the pinned watchmen if they were going to launch a retaliatory strike.

  Dean kept to the shadows, using his cloak to shield himself from Goblin eyes. Goblins could see well in the dark, but the light of the crackling flames consuming the town seemed enough mask him from view. He moved until he felt the essence signatures of the Goblin archers above him before trying the doors. The first two were locked, but the second, a side door to the back of a shop, creaked open when he touched it. Dean slipped inside, letting the door swing shut softly behind him.

  The raging fire beyond cast light through one of the shattered windows, and Dean used that light to guide him past the countertop and the stacked wooden crates in the corner. The shop smelled of leather and polish, and Dean saw several pairs of boots mounted on the wall. They were workman’s make, but the branded sigil on the leather was still new. A cobbler’s shop. There was no sign of the cobbler now, and whether or not he was counted among the living or the dead was impossible to know.

  Dean eased up the stairs, wincing every time a wooden board creaked beneath his boots. When he sensed no movement from the Goblins above, he continued. The hallway led to a door that opened onto the rooftop, and that door was partially ajar. Through it, Dean could see the backs of two goblin archers as they watched the fray below. The cluster of villagers was making a valiant last stand, but it was clear they were growing tired. A goblin spearman managed to nick a guard in the knee, driving the man to the ground. The others ran forward, managing to beat off the goblins before they could swarm. The injured guard was then dragged back within the moderate safety of the barrier.

  One of the Goblin archers cackled, pointing a gnarled finger. It was amusing to them, Dean knew. Goblins were known for tormenting their prey up until the point of death. He’d seen their brutality countless times before. But this time was different. Dean was no longer a helpless soldier without a combat class or any real talent. He had become something more.

  Dean’s boot shoved into the back of the first archer, and the Goblin let out a hoot of surprise as it was knocked forward, tumbling towards the hard ground below. The second fumbled with its bow, only to get stunned by a pommel strike to the head. Dean shoved it after the first in time to hear one of the below call the alarm.

  Goblins rarely spoke, and when they did, it was in short halting sentences. They were agitated now, no doubt wondering what had caused their archers to fall to their deaths. His mana sense flared, warning him of the cluster of goblins that had broken off from the main body, shambling towards the cooblers' shop. Dean slipped out the door and crouched behind a stack of empty crates, watching through the slats as six goblins ambled down the alleyway.

  “Find,” growled one of their leaders. He was taller than the others, with a necklace of bones strung about his neck. He pointed with his rusted sword towards the door, and the other Goblins hooted excitedly as they tore inside. Dean waited until he heard the thud of their feet on the old wooden stairs before he moved out from his hiding spot.

  The bone goblin’s head whipped towards him, its yellowing eyes assessing the threat in an instant. It bared its teeth, lunging forward with unnatural speed. But its sword blade hit only empty air. Dean twisted his torso, avoiding the thrust while maintaining his forward momentum. He saw the goblin’s eyes widen in alarm as it realized its error. But rather than wait to be struck, it surprised Dean by releasing its grip on its weapon.

  The goblin ducked as Dean’s sword cut the air where its head had been moments later. From below, it yanked a knife from its belt, cackling as it slashed at him. Dean’s armor deflected the blow, but the impact was still enough to stagger him. Despite their size, goblins were strong, and this one even more so. Inside, Dean could hear the shuffling of floorboards as the goblin warriors realized they’d been duped.

  He needed to kill their leader and quickly if he wanted his plan to work. Dean went for a feint, and the goblin made to duck again. At the same time, he slammed a boot into its bony knee, causing it to fall forward. The Goblin hissed with surprise, but the sound was cut off with a gurgle as Dean’s sword punched through its upper chest. The body jerked once before going limp.

  You have slain goblin leader

  You have gained + 3 strength

  You have gained + 2 power

  Dean ignored the notifications, instead slamming the door shut and pulling the heavy beam across it. The windows had already been barred, and though the wooden planks wouldn’t be enough to hold them forever, it would do for now. Goblins snarled from inside, pounding on the door with angry fists. Dean stepped over the corpse of their leader and moved towards the town's center.

  The remaining goblins were bearing down on the villagers, but Dean was gratified to see they weren’t going down without a fight. Townsfolk used wooden boards as shields and wielded anything from garden tools to fallen goblin weapons as they faced off against the horde. A few stragglers had drifted in to swell the ranks of the pack now surrounding the barrier, and Dean counted sixteen Goblins in total.

  Superior numbers? I don’t mind those odds.

  As another villager stumbled, Dean used his essence ability to dash into the center of the fray. He had chosen the place where the Goblins were most concentrated and allowed his ability to do the rest. Dean appeared within the pack of goblins, and the shockwave of his dash was enough to send several of the Goblins flying. One slammed into one of its fellows, knocking the creature unconscious. Dean wasted no time, exhaling as he drew on the essence in his core.

  His power answered his call, thrumming through him with greater and greater intensity. The build was intense, and Dean felt his aura flare as the power welled up within him. Like a current it needed release, and Dean directed it. Most of the goblins were lightly armored with either leather or rusted chainmail. That armor did nothing to protect them.

  With a roar, Dean swung his sword. The power of the blow shattered several nearby windows as it cut through goblins like a hot knife through butter. His sword glowed a deep, angry orange as sunder took effect, and the air was soon filled with the smell of burning goblin flesh. He’d killed three of them with a single blow and injured another two. But now the Goblins were aware of his presence. They shrieked, chittering to one another as they turned to face this new threat.

  Several of the closest lunged for him, and Dena parried a spear strike, using the weight of his blade to snap the incoming shaft when it came around again. The Goblin let out a hoot of surprise, staring at the splintered end of its spear before Dean’s sword cut the legs out from under it. Another came at him from the side, and Dean pivoted, dodging to avoid being impaled on the spear of a third.

  His armor was of good make, but there were gaps in it. And those tiny yellow eyes were now assessing him. Looking for a weakness. It had been reckless to launch himself into the middle of them. And yet, Dean found himself almost smiling as the adrenaline hit his bloodstream. The Goblins swarmed him and he swung and hacked, cleaving arms, legs, and any other body part he could find. A river of blood flowed around him but Dean didn’t care. His only focus was on crushing his enemy.

  “Help him!” shouted the watchmen. “Stand with the Adventuerer!”

  Dean was on the cusp of being forced to one knee, an errant arrow stuck through the meat of one thigh, when the villagers rushed in around him. One moment, he was surrounded by enemies, and the next… the next, they were dying. The watchmen led the charge. Dean saw the young man launch himself into the fray, using his shield like a weapon as he battered down a goblin warrior.

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  A man with a pitch fork wound back his arm and threw the thing like a prized javelin thrower. It speared a Goblin archer in the throat, pinning it against the side of a house. A goblin with a long jagged knife grabbed hold of Dean’s arm, and he drew back his fist to punch it. Before he could, however, a large piece of rock rubble struck it on the side of the head, knocking it flat on its stomach, where it twitched as blood spilled from the wound.

  “About damn time you showed up,” said a familiar voice. Tasha had her hair held up by a leather thong, the sleeves of her blouse rolled up to her elbows. There was blood on those hands, but the look in her eyes told him it likely wasn’t hers.

  “I was beginning to think you abandoned me, Dean Thompson. The others seemed to think that was the case. That you had turned tail and run just like that other Adventuerer. But I told them that wasn’t really your style.”

  There was a note of uncertainty in her voice. As the remaining goblins were dispatched around them Dean held out a glove, taking her bloodstained hand in his.

  “I’m sorry I left you,” he said, meeting her gaze. “I was investigating something I saw on the road. By the time I realized there was a goblin threat, they were already here.”

  Tasha nodded slowly, and he could see her shoulders relax slightly at his words. Dean shifted, grimacing as pain flared in his leg.

  “Careful,” said Tasha, bending down to look at it. “Gods above you have an arrow in you. Stay still, I need to get it out and bind it.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “It’s most certainly not. Let the guards take care of the rest, the gods know you’ve done enough.”

  She put a hand on his chest, forcing back against the cobblestones. From her inventory, she produced a set of bandages and what looked to be some sort of herb mix.

  “Lie still.”

  Tasha knelt down beside him, her face growing serious as she inspected the leg of his trousers.

  “I don’t suppose you want me to take them off?” he asked, arching a brow at her.

  “Dean Thompson, is this how you proposition a woman?”

  She studied the black arrow shaft and made a tsking sound. The shaft had missed anything major, spearing instead the meat on the side of Dean’s thigh. Tasha told him to ready himself before reaching down and snapping off the arrowhead. Pain jolted down Dean’s leg, but he ignored it, staying still while she pulled the shaft free of the muscle.

  Blood welled up from the wound, and Tasha quickly unscrewed the lid of the jar and dipped her fingers in the herb concoction. It was fragrant and cold to the touch as she dabbed it on his wound.

  “Poltice,” she said in way of explanation. “It might sting a little, but it will help slow the bleeding and keep out infection. At least until it heals. Do you have a health potion?”

  Dean nodded.

  “I’d rather save it for a more grievous injury. Potions aren’t cheap in the empire, especially these days.”

  “Adventuerer.”

  Dean turned to see the watch captain striding towards him, a smile on his tired face. Blood was splattered across his armor, but he and the guards beside him had an heir of relief about them.

  “I thought we were dead,” he said without preamble, reaching of to wipe his wet hair from his head. The rain had all but stopped, and most of the fires in the buildings had burned low. All around was a trail of destruction where the unnatural fire had burned its way through half a dozen buildings, leaving several no more than a smoking husk.

  “We owe you our thanks,” said the captain, holding out a hand to help Dean to his feet. “If you hadn’t intervened when you did, I doubt many of us would have been left standing.” The man shook his head, his smile fading as he took in the goblin corpses.

  “Goblins,” he muttered. “Here at river’s crossing? If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I might not have believed it. There was no warning… no…” his eyes drifted to the corpses of his comrades, and Dean saw the man’s throat bob as he swallowed hard.

  Dean opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, he felt his mana sense flare. In the end it was the Goddess’s gift that saved the life of the Watch Captain. As his gift of predator sense activated, Dean saw a blur in the corner of his vision as something streaked towards them. Without thinking, he put a hand on the man’s breastplate, putting the force of essence in his palm as he shoved the man away from him.

  Less than a second later, the ground where the Watch Captain had been standing exploded in a shower of dust and stone. He could hear the alarmed shouts of some of the others, but through the thick stone dust in the air, he could hardly see anything. He coughed, raising a hand to shield his face before his mana sense flared again, this time much stronger. Dean saw the gleam of amber eyes in the darkness before something whistled through the air towards him.

  This time, Dean was ready. He raised his sword, bracing the flat of the giant blade with his free hand as this time he caught the blow directed at him. The power behind it was enough to make his knees buckle. Dear cried out as his knees struck the stone, leaving cracks around him. Something enormous loomed over him, its weight crushing as it forced him down. Dean looked up into the face of the largest goblin he had ever seen. It was at least seven feet tall, far larger than any normal warrior. It was covered in thick rusted iron plate armor, and its green arms were bound with corded muscle. In its hands, it wielded an enormous spiked club.

  Dean's arms trembled from the effort of holding the creature back. The Goblin peered through the iron bars of its helmet, its pointed teeth bared in a grin.

  Monster Class: Goblin Warrior Bruiser

  Race: Sentient Monster

  Tier: Intermediate

  Bruiser? What the fuck was- Dean didn’t have time to finish his thought. The Goblin bruiser released its club with one hand, drawing back its enormous armored fist. Dean saw the blow coming but could do nothing to stop it. The creature's fist slammed into his stomach, lifting Dean into the air. He lost his grip on his sword as the air left his lungs, and he was flung halfway across the square. Dean collided with a lamp post, cracking the old wooden beam in two. By the time he hit the ground, his vision had gone grey. The Goblin Bruiser let out a roar of triumph as it lumbered towards him. Dean heard shouting as several of the watchmen rushed forward to engage it.

  “Stay Back!” Dean shouted, dragging himself to a knee. His limbs felt heavy, his hands clumsy and numb. Vaguely in the back of his mind, he recognized his body’s slow response as the consequence of some sort of stun effect. The guards hadn’t seemed to hear his warning. A hum filled the air as the goblin bruiser’s skin seemed to glow with a bright red aura. What happened next, Dean saw in slow motion. One of the watchmen thrust his spear at the joint of the goblin's armor at the armpit. It was a well-placed strike, and might have been a killing blow against something of a lower tier.

  But the Bruiser’s reaction time changed that. It brought its armored arm up, shattering the wooden shaft in a single blow. The guard shouted in shock, attempting to scramble out of range, but he was far too slow. The goblin’s metal fist closed around his head, lifting him into the air.

  No.

  Dean gritted his teeth as he pushed himself to his feet. A notification warned him that the stun effect had still not worn off, but Dean ignored the message. He staggered forward, his eyes scanning for his sword. He caught sight of the hilt lying thirty feet away, half buried beneath street rubble. Dean jogged towards it, ignoring the pain throbbing through his leg.

  “Let him go, you bastard!” The second watchman ran forward, his sword raised, but the bruiser was waiting for him. It twisted, bringing around its club with a speed too fast to dodge. The club caught the watchmen full in the chest. Dean heard the crunch of armor, saw the man’s limp body cartwheel through the air before crashing through the window of a shop. Dean knew from experience that he wouldn’t rise again.

  The Bruiser turned it’s attention back to the watchman still struggling in its grip. Dean could hear the others shouting, the Captain giving orders as they prepared themselves. There was fear on the man’s face, but Dean could see the determination in the set of his shoulders. The Captain was a man of duty, and if duty demanded he and his men die here, Dean had no doubt he would.

  “We surround it,” he said. “That’s our best chance of taking it down. If we can just-“

  “No.”

  The villagers and watchmen turned alike to see Dean standing there, his sword in hand as his cloak whipped in the wind. His hand had come to rest on the Watch captain’s shoulder but his eyes were fixed on the monster before him. He hadn’t been able to sense it before. Beneath the bowed chest plate of the Bruiser’s armor, a powerful signature of an essence shard throbbed.

  “Adventurer,” the Captain’s eyes widened as he saw Dean. “You’re alive… I thought… we all saw-“

  “I’m fine,” said Dean, cracking his neck as the last vestiges of the slow effect wore off.

  “The bastard caught me by surprise,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “But it won’t get that chance again. I admire your courage, Captain, and that of your men. But if you rush in blindly, you’ll all end up corpses, and I can’t allow that to happen.”

  The captain’s face hardened.

  “And with respect, Adventuerer, that is not your decision. This is our town, and it's our duty to defend it in any way we can. We cannot simply stand aside while someone else does the fighting for us.”

  He didn’t have time for this.

  Dean grabbed the man by the collar of his breast plate, wrenching him forward until they were nose to nose. He let his aura throb from him as he tightened his grip.

  “If you get in my way, then more people die. I don’t have time for diplomacy; otherwise, I’d say it differently. But as it is now, neither you nor your men have the strength to defeat that thing. There are only two of us within a several-mile radius who stand a chance, and apparently, the other ran off. So you’re stuck with me. Stay out of my way, Captain. And tell your crossbow man to be ready on my signal.”

  He turned to the bowman who stood a bit behind his comrades.

  “Are you a good shot?”

  The man swallowed but nodded.

  “Aye, I’d say so. An ace on a windy day. At least that’s what my mother used to say.”

  “Good. If you see an opening, take it. Don’t hesitate, understand?”

  The man’s face grew serious, and he nodded. Dean released the Watch Captain, ignoring the flash of anger on the man’s face. He didn’t have time for egos, not now. Dean was about to come face-to-face with the strongest enemy he’d fought since the raid boss. And this time, he didn’t have a party as backup.

  The dust from the rubble had mostly cleared. Through it, Dean could see the guard still struggling, his feet kicking as he fought to free himself. At some point, the man had pulled a dagger from a sheath at his belt and attempted to stab the arm that was now holding him in a crushing grip. The blade had shattered, and the guard's attempt to free himself grew weaker and weaker. The Goblin bruiser leered, the muscles in its forearm flexing as it tightened its grip. The metal of the man’s helmet began to creak beneath the pressure, as blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

  The Goblin Bruiser was laughing right up until the point that Dean attempted to sever its arm. His blade arced through the air, scattering any remaining dust in a blast of air. His strike met resistance as it struck the armor of the creature's forearm, producing a clang as loud as a city bell. Even with his muscles infused with essence, the strike wasn’t enough sever the limb. Not with that much armor between him and his target.

  But Dean hadn’t needed it too. The impact jarred the Bruiser’s arm, causing it to break its hold on the guard's head. The man fell to the ground in a clatter of armor, staring up at the scene before him in disbelief. The Goblin had already reacted, roaring as it brought its giant club around. Dean caught the blow on his sword, and the impact was enough to make his bones rattle.

  “Go,” he growled at the prone man. “Get out of here.”

  The guard swallowed hard as he scrambled backwards, and Dean thanked the gods that he wasn’t foolish enough to argue. He scrambled to his feet, half running, half stumbling as he made it to where the villagers now stood. Dean risked a glance to the side and saw Tasha among them, her face pale with worry.

  They were safe. Or at least as safe as they could be. The Goblin clacked its teeth together, its manic grin spreading as it grabbed ahold of its club with both hands. The pressure on Dean’s arms disappeared as that club raised high in the air. He wouldn’t be able to block this strike. Dean rolled to the side as the club slammed into the ground, showering him with chips of stone. He came up, shifting his grip and thrusting for the gap between the creature's bevor and helmet.

  The Bruiser jerked its head back, and Dean's blade missed its throat by inches. Still, the Goblin was thrown off balance, and as it stumbled, Dean saw an opening.

  If I can stagger it I have a chance to end this here and now.

  Dean lunged, readjusting his grip on his sword as his eyes aligned with the target. If he were fast enough, he might be able to…

  Dean realized his mistake a moment before his senses warned him. The Goblin, who at first glance seemed to have been caught entirely off guard, straightened suddenly. Its eyes shifted, and Dean could have sworn he saw the creature smile as it grabbed for him. Dean tried to dodge out of its way, but there wasn’t enough time.

  The goblin had baited him, and now he was going to pay the price. In seconds, the arm had wrapped around him, crushing him to the goblin's armor chest in a brutal death hug. All of the air left Dean’s lungs in a rush, and it was all he could do to stay conscious as his bones creaked. He fought hard, trying to flex his essence-infused muscles in resistance, but the Bruiser’s strength was too great.

  Dean’s vision dimmed as he felt his internal organs squeeze. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the silhouettes of the villagers. Someone was shouting his name, but he wasn’t sure who. He tried to draw another breath, but it was like trying to breathe underwater. The goblin was laughing now. He could feel the vibration through the rusted breastplate, smell its fetid breath.

  He was going to die here. Something welled up within him at the thought, but it wasn’t fear. As Dean’s vision dimmed, he saw a face reflected in his past. Isaac Alarin leered at him as Dean died impaled on the man’s spear. The disdain in his arrogant face lit the flames of anger deep within him.

  I can’t die. I won’t. Not until I’ve killed that bastard.

  Dean had maintained his grip on his sword. His arm was clamped tight to the creature's side, making it impossible to swing. His left arm was trapped beneath him. That was the one he needed to free. He strained, muscles and veins popping as he pushed back against the force of the goblin's grip. It wasn’t enough- not to free himself fully. But Dean only needed an inch. His head was swimming from lack of air, but he didn’t let up even when he felt he was on the verge of blacking out.

  A tiny gap opened up between him and the creature's breast plate. Dean shifted his shoulders, pulling at his arm and feeling it slide across rusted metal. Closer. Closer. He fought unconsciousness until finally he felt his arm come free. The space it had created allowed him something he hadn’t had before. A single breath.

  Air flowed into his lungs, and Dean used his breathing technique to steady himself. From his core, he reached for the essence still thrumming in his veins, waiting for release. When he had first gained his essence abilities, he’d learned the hard way that he couldn’t dash through physical objects. His charge ability didn’t render him incorporeal while traveling. What it did give him was increased force.

  Dean wrapped his arm around the goblin, mimicking its crushing hold on him. His eyes flicked to the remnants building behind him. To the jagged end of a post now sticking from the rubble. He gauged the distance was just under twenty feet. He supposed there was no time like the present to test his range.

  Essence surged from within him, flowing through his veins like wildfire. His aura pulsed, and an electric charge lifted his hair from his scalp. Dean poured more power into this ability than he’d ever dared to before. And when he felt as if the essence brimming within him was so great it might overflow, that’s when he moved.

  The goblins' laughing ceased as it was suddenly launched backwards. Its yellow eyes widened, and it grunted in surprise as its feet left the ground. They moved fast, too fast for even the bruiser to react. Dean saw the impact coming and braced himself. The Goblins back struck the wooden beam with enough force to make the wall behind it crack. The goblin's limbs whiplashed, its arms flying wide and releasing Dean, who wasted no time.

  The armor on its back was too thick for it to have been impaled, but the impact had dented it, bringing the creature to a knee. It let out a pained bellow, swiping at Dean with an arm, but he simply vaulted the limb, rolling until he was behind it.

  The top of the goblin's foot was protected by armor, but the bottom, the joint near the heel, was another matter. Dean skidded to a stop, lifting his sword in both hands. The goblin tried to move, but it was still winded from the impact of the strike. Dean’s blade bit deep into the flesh behind its ankle, the place where, on a human, the Achilles heel would reside.

  Dean wasn’t an academy graduate. He couldn’t list off the differences between goblin and human anatomy off the top of his head. What he did know was that if you were fighting a larger, stronger enemy, then crippling it was a sure way to win.

  The goblin let out a howl that made the rubble stones around him vibrate. It twisted, trying to strike at him with its fists, but its lame leg wouldn’t support its weight. Dean ducked and wove under the blows, dancing backwards and maintaining his position behind the creature. When it finally gathered its good leg beneath it, Dean took the opportunity to slice at that too.

  The goblin howled again as it tumbled to the ground, landing in a pool of its own spreading blood. Its breaths were haggard as it looked around. Dean's body was still vibrating with the powerful blast of essence he’d just released, but he managed to keep his grip steady as he stalked towards it.

  The bruiser’s yellow eyes bulged in fear as it saw him coming. It gripped the ground, trying to scoot away, but it was far too late for running. There was nowhere to go, and Dean wasn’t in the habit of showing mercy to killers. His eyes fell on the bone necklace wrapped around its neck. How many humans had been killed and eaten for that jewelry to be made? And yet, goblins wore the bones of their victims like trophies. Like something to be praised.

  “Perhaps I’ll take something of yours too,” said Dean, the blade of his sword catching the necklace as he lifted it to get a better look. The goblin let out a whimper, and in its last moments, it decided it was worth it to try to fit. Dean side-stepped its feeble attempts at strikes before finally ending it with a thrust to its exposed throat. Blood welled over his blade, joining what already pooled beneath him.

  You have slain goblin bruiser

  You have gained + 5 strength

  You have gained + 3 agility

  You have gained + 4 power

  You have gained + 3 resilience

  The notifications flickered in his vision before a smaller blue box opened.

  You have learned a passive skill.

  Passive Skill: Berserker’s Wrath. When you are angry, your resistance to all incoming damage, both magical and physical, increases by 12. This skill can be upgraded.

  Well… that was certainly more useful than he expected. A higher resistance would make him tougher in fights, and given that he preferred close-quarters combat, it would likely come in handy sooner rather than later.

  He was about to turn away when the passive skill box closed and another opened in its place. This one he recognized; it was the system menu that displayed his essence abilities. There were twelve slots in total, but most of them were dark. When he slid a hand over them, the words “Inaccessible at current rank” flared to life. His first two slots were active, and a white line ran through them, illuminating the outline of each sigil. The glowing white line reached halfway towards the third slot, which Dean knew he would access right before ascending to the next rank.

  Interesting, but why had it come up now? He was about to close the box when one of the glowing sigils flared.

  Essence Ability: Sunder is upgradable. Do you wish to upgrade now? Warning: This process takes time. Once begun, the upgrade process cannot be halted.

  “Dean!” he had almost forgotten there were others present as Tasha dashed towards him, followed closely behind by the Watch captain. Her face was pale, but when she closed the distance, she hugged him. He blinked in surprise as her arms closed around his neck, her cheek resting on his breastplate.

  “You’re okay,” she whispered. “Gods, you’re strong. I mean, I knew you were, but… well. I’ve not seen anything like that before.”

  “Nor have I,”

  The watch captain extended a hand to him, which Dean shook.

  “That was some of the most ballsy fighting I think I’ve seen from an Adventurer. That thing was strong,” he shook his head. “I’ve only been in this career for five years, but I’ve never seen anything like it. We need to get the word out to provincial leadership. That something like this could happen…” he swallowed and clenched his fists. “The Governor must be told, now.”

  “We have other priorities,” I’m afraid. The voice was somewhat familiar. Dean turned to see a man in plate armor standing there, a naked sword in his hand. He was half splattered in goblin blood, but the face beneath the raised visor jogged a memory.

  “You’re that Adventurer’s bodyguard,” he said, turning to face the man. The bodyguard nodded wearily, lifting an arm to wipe at rainwater that ran down his face.

  “Aye, I have the misfortune of being assigned to guard that young man, though it’s always seemed like a pointless endeavor. He’s been a magnet for trouble ever since he could walk. And when he started talking… well. That was the day this land truly was cursed.”

  “A bodyguard?” The Watch captain’s brows drew together. “What need does an Adventuerer have for a bodyguard?”

  The man smiled tightly.

  “Even Adventuerers must sleep. At any rate, I came back here hoping for your assistance.” The bodyguards' gaze was on Dean. “You seemed to have killed a fair number of them, but there are still a slew of goblins outside the town line. I saw them while I was engaged by the gate. They had prisoners with them. Maybe five or six.”

  Dean grimaced as he remembered what the young boy had said. He’d claimed they’d taken his mother, and Dean had enough experience with Goblins to guess the reason why.

  “And your charge?” asked Dean, arching a brow. “I assume he’s with the captured?”

  The man hesitated, tongue flicking across his lips. Dean suspected he was trying to decide whether or not to lie.

  “Yes,” he said at last, his shoulders slumping. “The young master was… engaged beyond the wall. The goblins attacked him before I could reach him. Some of them had these sorts of glowing sigils on their necks and arms. They were stronger than the others. Faster too.”

  Dean grunted.

  “Sigils,” he said, lowering himself to a crouch. He reached out and pulled the old, rusted helmet from the dead bruiser's head, his eyes landing on the mark on the creature's neck. It was dead now, the sigil itself burned out when the creature had died. But it was unmistakable.

  “There’s a shaman with them somewhere,” said Dean. “And a powerful one. That’s why this bruiser was so hard to kill.”

  The watchmen swore under their breath, and their men exchanged glances. Goblin shaman’s were dangerous creatures, and if one was present, it likely signaled a larger body of goblin forces was lurking somewhere nearby.

  “How many of them?” asked Dean, drawing the bodyguard's attention once more. The man shook his head. “I’d say a dozen. Most warriors, but a few archers among them. They were moving in that direction,” he pointed and Dean frowned, following his finger.

  Towards the riverbank? But that would mean…

  “They plan to cross,” he said, turning to the others. “Captain, this is your call. We might have the opportunity to save the hostages if we move quickly. But I’ll need some of your men. If a large goblin host is lurking nearby, then you’ll need to evacuate the villagers. Preferably somewhere.. less south.”

  The captain looked around at the small town. Half of it had been leveled by flame – flame Dean now knew had originated from the shaman.

  That’s why it had burned even in the rain.

  “We’ll gather what supplies we have left and head north to Dutton,” said the Captain at last. Several of the villages began to protest, but the guard held up his hand. “I know it’s hard, but Dean is right. We’re sitting ducks if we stay here. Without the numbers, we’ll be slaughtered if those goblins return. We’ll need to travel, get the word out to the Governor. If he can rally his garrison in time, then we might return to more than rubble to rebuild.”

  The man clapped Dean on the shoulder and nodded once.

  “Gods be with you, Adventuerer. When you encounter more of those green menaces, I pray you put them in the ground where they belong.”

  Then he lowered his voice, leaning in so the others couldn’t hear.

  “I’ll leave a man here for another few hours. I know it’s a long shot but if there are any survivors…”

  Dean nodded.

  “I’ll do my best to make sure they get home.”

  The Captain seemed like he might say more, but the townsfolk had begun to gather supplies, and he was needed elsewhere. He stepped away, and Dean saw Tasha standing at his side. Her eyes were on a goblin corpse that lay face down in the road.

  “Are you alright?” he asked her. Tasha blinked and looked away from the corpse, her face growing hard.

  “I’m fine. And before you say it, no. I won’t go with them back to Dutton. If these… things are the reason for my sister's disappearance.” Her voice wavered, but she lifted her chin. “Then I need to know what happened to her.”

  “Tasha,” he said, but she cut him off.

  “No, my mind is made up, Dean. I know what they… I know what they do to their prisoners. They eat them, don’t they?”

  Dean hesitated before nodding solemnly.

  “Tasha, I’m not asking you to stay because I don’t think you’re brave or capable. I’m asking you because if you come with me, what might find… what you might see. It’s not something I’d wish on anyone.”

  Tasha’s throat bobbed. But she didn’t shed any tears. Instead, she gripped the hilt of the dagger at her waist and met his gaze.

  “I understand. But I can’t leave it, Dean. Not when there's a chance, however slim, that Elise could still be out there. She’s my baby sister,” she added, her voice wavering. Dean stuck his tongue in his lip before nodding.

  “Okay.” He said. “Then follow us, and don’t get left behind. When the fighting starts, you stay out of the way. Promise?”

  “Promise,” she whispered. The bodyguard flicked the blood from his blade and eyed the two of them.

  “Thank you for agreeing to join me, Adventuerer. No doubt the Ballif will reward you handsomely for-“

  “I’m not doing it for him or his son,” snapped Dean, turning towards the road that led into the trees. “Those goblins took hostages, and I intend to get them back.”