Battle For The Underworld, Six PM, November 7th, 380 HE Part 2

All he could do was look upward at the certain doom of those cruel blades—

when he heard a fierce shout, ragged with exhaustion.

"Sir Kniiiight!!"

A single human guard was charging at the ferocious goblin leader. It was the

young man-at-arms captain. The fellow, whose name Deusolbert never even

learned, had his greatsword high overhead, ready to hurl his mightiest slice.

All the enemy did was flick his wrist in annoyance.

There was a deep, loud crash, and the heavily laden—if not as much as the

enemy—human warrior shot backward as lightly as if he were made of paper.

He bounced again and again. No advantage in technique, speed, or equipment

could make up for that devastating gap in strength.

The glowing red eyes of the nonhuman narrowed. He leaped, as feral as any

beast, his hand ax sweeping backward to deliver a finish to the crumpled manat-arms.

No. As a knight, as a commander, I cannot allow for any more losses!

That thought hit Deusolbert's paralyzed mind like a lightning bolt.

He stood up, briefly kicking off the two clinging goblins, but he didn't have the

time to get in front of the fallen guard. He could throw his sword, but that

would only delay the inevitable by a few seconds.

Before his mind could conceive of a plan, his hands moved on their own,

taking action in a way he had never consciously considered.

He held the Conflagration Bow sideways in one hand and nocked his sword

against the string as a makeshift arrow. It was so heavy, he felt as if he were

pulling a rope tied into the earth. Agony threatened to obliterate his conscious

mind.

But Deusolbert groaned through clenched teeth and pulled the string all the

way back. When he was in shooting position, he shouted, "Come, flames!!"

The divine weapon heeded his call, even without the proper sacred art

command. The force of the conflagration that erupted from the bow was easily

superior to any single use of Perfect Weapon Control he'd made before.

The longsword set on the bowstring was not counted among the divine

weapons, but it was still a fine model, generated by Administrator herself. It

had a much higher priority level than any of the mass-produced steel arrows he

normally shot. Every last bit of the sacred power contained in the blade

transformed into flames.

Even Deusolbert's armor, which was supposed to be flame-resistant, began to

redden under the blistering heat. The two goblins now clinging to his legs again

didn't even have time to scream before their eyes and mouths emitted flames

of their own.

The enemy leader, finally noticing the anomaly, looked both shocked and

furious and made to throw an ax. But before he could…

"Burn it all!!" bellowed Deusolbert, releasing the string. The longsword

exploded from the bow, flying in a straight line on wings of scarlet flames. It

looked just like the original form of the Conflagration Bow—a phoenix that was

said to have lived in the biggest and oldest volcano in the southern empire.

"Gruaah!!" The enemy chief crossed his axes before his body. The fiery

phoenix made contact right in the center where they met—and the pig-iron war

axes simply melted into nothingness.

In a blink, before he could even catch fire, the matter that made up Chief

Shibori of the flatland goblins turned to blackened soot and crumbled into dust

on the wind, gone forever.

The goblins that witnessed the horrific death of their leader turned on their

heels and fled. But there was little escape from the righteous flames of the

phoenix, and all told, three hundred goblins perished, burned entirely to ash.

The battle was already fierce for Fanatio, at the center of the First Regiment,

and Deusolbert, at the right wing.

And Bercouli Synthesis One—leader of the Integrity Knights, commander of

the Human Guardian Army, and direct officer in charge of the Second Regiment

—could clearly see the chaos being caused by the smoke attack on Eldrie's left

wing.

But he did not budge.

The primary reason was that he trusted the knights and guards that he had

worked so hard to train. The secondary reason was that if the dark knights and

pugilists guild that made up the bulk of the enemy's elite forces were not active

yet, his own side couldn't start throwing in its rear-line backup troops.

The tertiary reason was that he knew the Dark Territory better than anyone

else, and he had to be concerned about a sneak attack—the enemy's flying

troops.

In a world without any sacred arts that enabled flight—technically, this was an

art only Administrator could peruse, so it had been lost forever when she'd died

—the few dragon riders among the Integrity Knights and the dark knighthood

loomed large in strategic purpose. They could swoop through the sky, out of the

reach of any sword, and lay waste to ground troops with what sacred arts they

did have, alongside their dragons' fiery breath.

But because they were so valuable, they couldn't be thrown into battle

carelessly. If one side's dragon knight ventured out too early and happened to

fall to sacred arts or archers on the ground, it would instantly mean a huge shift

in the power balance.

It was why Bercouli had all the dragons aside from Alice's Amayori on call in

the rear and was certain that the enemy would do the same. However, the

sneak attack he was worried about was not from the dragon riders.

The forces of darkness had their own unique flying unit.

It was a hideous winged monster known as a minion. The dark mages crafted

them out of clay and other materials, and although they were not intelligent on

their own, they did respond to certain simple commands.

Alice had once told Bercouli that the pontifex had been secretly researching

something exactly the same as these minions. But apparently, even she had

hesitated to station the horrifying creatures at the Axiom Church. She had

passed on before finding a more appropriate appearance for them, which was

unfortunate, but there was nothing to be done about it now.

For this reason, Bercouli had to be wary of the skies because of a possible

sneak attack from minions. Without the dragons aloft and with the priests

entirely occupied with healing the wounded, that left him as the only wideranging antiair defensive unit on the battlefield. Or more accurately, his divine

weapon, the Time-Splitting Sword.

Bercouli stood in the center of the Second Regiment, both hands resting on

the pommel of his sword in its sheath, concentrating hard.

He was aware at all moments of the fierce struggles the three Integrity

Knights and men-at-arms of the First Regiment were facing. He could sense the

chaos on the left wing and the infiltration of the goblin troops as clearly as if

they'd happened in the palm of his own hand.

But he couldn't take a single step from his location. Bercouli already had the

Perfect Control art of his weapon active.

Long in the past, there had been a massive clock built into the wall of Central

Cathedral to tell the citizens of Centoria the precise time. The long and short

hand of the clock were then reforged into the divine Time-Splitting Sword. Its

secret power was to "cut the future." Wherever the sword sliced, the power of

that swing would remain, suspended in the air, and cut any who touched the

space, as though the sword were still there.

Right before the Eastern Gate collapsed, Bercouli had straddled his mount,

Hoshigami, and carved out a huge "sliced span" in the air a hundred mels wide,

two hundred deep, and a hundred and fifty tall. He'd swept his sword through

the air, carefully and deftly moving up and down, back and forth, crisscrossing

the empty space. All told, he'd made over three hundred slices.

Maintaining so many Incarnate Swords for dozens of minutes at a time was a

first even for Bercouli, a near immortal who had been alive for over three

centuries. It was the kind of preposterous feat that could be achieved only by

removing one's mind from one's bodily vessel and becoming a being of pure

thought. This, more than anything, was why he'd put the First Regiment under

Fanatio's command.

Hurry…If you're going to come, do it soon, prayed Bercouli, despite the fact

that his presence of mind allowed for no such emotions as haste or anxiety.

Mental fatigue was one thing, but the sacred power of the Time-Splitting Sword

was limited and already more than half drained. Once Perfect Control was

undone, it was impossible to repeat the same action. If he failed to wipe out the

enemy's minions and they attacked Alice during her grand sacred arts

preparation in the sky above the First Regiment, their one hope would be lost.

Come soon.

Of the seven elite Integrity Knights gathered at the Eastern Gate, it was clearly

Renly Synthesis Twenty-Seven who was dealing with the pressure the worst,

but despite his actual combat experience, Eldrie Synthesis Thirty-One was not

doing much better.

Eldrie was the disciple of Alice, and he worshipped her. It was not the same as

the romantic longing that Dakira had felt for her superior officer, Fanatio. He

felt two contrary desires at once: to dedicate his all and serve her—and to

protect her as her senior in age.

As soon as she'd awoken as an Integrity Knight, Alice had been hailed as the

greatest genius in the history of the Church. On top of her ability with sacred

arts, which was greater than even the priests' and bishops', she was chosen by

the Osmanthus Blade—the oldest divine weapon and a symbol of everlasting

permanence—which had refused all knights before her, and she absorbed all

the lessons that Commander Bercouli could bestow upon her.

Alice might have looked like a young woman, but to the majority of the

knights, she was as distant as a lone star in the northern sky. That isolation was

made even worse when rumors spread that she might one day succeed

Administrator as pontifex.

So right after his awakening, Eldrie did not attempt to approach Alice. You

might even say that he carefully avoided her.

Though the Synthesis Ritual had robbed him of all his earthly memories, Eldrie

was, in fact, the heir to Eschdor Woolsburg, a first-rank noble and the greatest

general of the Norlangarth Empire. Eldrie was chosen as first representative of

the northern empire for the year 380 HE and won the Four-Empire Unification

Tournament. Even as an Integrity Knight, the noble-born pride and selfconfidence did not leave him.

The idea that a younger girl could be a far greater knight than he was and that

she could be the foremost pupil of Commander Bercouli was something he

found distasteful, and it did not endear her to him. But late one night, a good

deal of time since he'd been made a knight, Eldrie witnessed a side of Alice that

he'd never expected to see.

He snuck out deep into the rose garden, intending to get in more sword

practice without anyone else knowing, and there he found Alice dressed in a

simple nightgown, weeping over a crude little grave marker. It was just a little

cross of wood, but carved into it was the name of an elderly dragon that had

perished just a few days earlier—the mother of Alice's Amayori and Eldrie's

Takiguri.

The dragons were a valuable weapon, to be sure, but they were just dragons

—servile beasts. Why was it necessary to build a grave for it and mourn its

death so deeply?

But when he tried to snort and turn away, he was stunned to realize that the

corners of his own eyes were growing hot and wet.

To this day, Eldrie didn't understand what it was about the sight of Alice

mourning the death of the mother dragon that tore his heart apart so. But he

did understand, as the tears fell down his cheeks undisturbed, that this tender,

graceful vision was indeed the real Alice Synthesis Thirty.

From that day onward, Alice the solitary knight was entirely different in

Eldrie's eyes. She was like a crystal flower, bowing her head against the

incredible pressures against her but never breaking…

He wanted to protect her, to shelter that girl from the chilling winds that tore

at her.

Eldrie's wish only grew stronger by the day. But the idea that he would

protect her was simply arrogant folly. In sacred arts or in swordwork, Alice's

talent far outstripped anything Eldrie could do.

The only option available to him was to seek her guidance as a pupil. And

since that point, Eldrie had lived for just one hope: that his mentor Alice might

accept him as a swordsman and as a man.

This was barely short of impossible. Alice the genius had so much ability that

even Commander Bercouli had to admit it, and Eldrie was less trying to catch up

than simply desperate to avoid her annoyance.

In the meantime, he spoke to Alice, ate meals with her, and used the

confident conversational skills he had somehow picked up—actually, it was just

his old personality peeking through—to try to elicit a smile from his mentor.

His efforts gradually produced fruit, as he not only improved with the sword

but even caught glimpses of the faint upturn of his mentor's lips every now and

then.

Until the worst incident in the history of Central Cathedral occurred.

It should have just been an ordinary mission at the start. A charge of murder

for the two sword disciples was a grave one indeed, but the world was a big

enough place that every now and then, disagreements led to spontaneous

unfortunate events that could coincide with bloodshed. When he saw the

students being brought to the cathedral, he didn't sense any danger or evil from

them. They were just two normal, dejected young men.

So when Alice threw them in the underground cells and after careful

consideration said "Guard the exit to the prison for this one night, just in case,"

Eldrie was taken aback. He undertook the mission, intent on enjoying the rare

all-nighter in the rose garden, and when the sky to the east was beginning to

lighten, it was to his great shock that those very prisoners escaped to the

surface.

Eldrie was impressed with his mentor's keen judgment and stood before them

to fulfill his duty—and he lost, utterly and completely. He had no excuse for his

performance. He had used the Memory Release of his divine Frostscale Whip,

while they had just been normal boys with dangling prison chains for weapons.

But he had to accept his defeat. In the end, the two toppled elite knight

Deusolbert, Vice Commander Fanatio, his mentor Alice, and even Commander

Bercouli, until at last they defeated Administrator herself. Even Alice admitted,

in that little shack outside the tiny village to the frozen north, that one of the

two criminals was the greatest swordsman alive, beyond even the Integrity

Knights.

Eldrie wasn't frustrated that he was inferior to the black-haired youth.

Instead, it was the realization that it wasn't he who'd pulled off those feats that

brought all the pain.

It wasn't Eldrie but that newcomer who'd freed Alice from the cage of ice that

had imprisoned her heart. This came as a severe shock to Eldrie's system.

Just hours before the Eastern Gate fell, his mentor had given him the kind of

gentle smile he'd never seen in all the hours and days he'd spent with her and

said, "It was because of your support that I was able to walk my rocky path to

this day. Thank you, Eldrie."

Along with the tears that flooded his eyes came a determination: that he

must show Alice how tall her teachings had raised him to stand, here in this

battle. This resolve raised the strength of Eldrie's Incarnate power, but it also

put him in a corner.

If the mountain goblins that had attacked the left wing of the First Regiment

had operated in as orthodox a manner as the goblins on the other side, Eldrie

would have fought with a righteous ability every bit as fierce as Deusolbert's.

Instead, the mountain goblins had taken away their visibility with smoke

screens, slipped through his soldiers' legs, and snuck around to attack from the

rear.

He'd been outdone by goblins, of all things. As Alice watched from above, he

had just disgraced himself. The panic that ensued took away Eldrie's rational

decision-making ability. He spun around in the blinding smoke, attempting to

give orders to the guards under his command. But all he could tell was that if he

ordered them to attack, they were liable to do more damage to one another

than to the enemy. He had no idea how to get rid of the smoke.

He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, his lilac hair wild and unkempt, but

Eldrie could do little else but stand still in disbelief.

2

"Um, if you ask me, the left is looking a little dicey," Fizel warned the

commander, her voice slow. Her partner, Linel, bobbed her head, braid

swaying. But the commander did not respond. Linel looked forward again,

noting to herself just how silent he always was.

The apprentice knights Linel Synthesis Twenty-Eight and Fizel Synthesis

Twenty-Nine were situated at the front of the right wing of the Human

Guardian Army's Second Regiment. Just a hundred mels ahead, the First

Regiment was locked in a pitched battle, but no enemies were breaking through

the defensive line. Deusolbert the veteran knight was putting up a very good

fight so far.

Vice Commander Fanatio was also holding up in the center of the First

Regiment. She was the kind of big-sister type who was anathema to Linel and

Fizel, but her ability was unquestionable. And since she had taken off her

helmet and shown her face to everyone, things hadn't been nearly as strained.

The problem was the left wing.

Eldrie Synthesis Thirty-One was a rookie, just seven months into his time as a

knight, and while he had made great improvements lately, this grave duty

seemed to be a bit too heavy a burden for him to bear. While it was his desire

to lead on the front line, maybe it would have been better to leave it to one of

the veterans…

Linel envisioned the layout of the battlefield and the placement of each

Integrity Knight.

There were only seven elite knights at the battle. Eldrie was on the left wing

of the First Regiment, Vice Commander Fanatio was in the center, and

Deusolbert was on the right wing.

Young Renly was on the left wing of the Second Regiment, Commander

Bercouli was in the center, and the silent lady knight was on the right wing.

Flying in the air above was Alice Synthesis Thirty.

"…The left wing just looks weaker in general…," Linel muttered, and this time

it was Fizel who nodded her head. As a matter of fact, it had been looking

strange for several minutes already. There didn't seem to be any damage yet,

but the sounds of confused shouting were audible over the heads of the center

battalion. If she squinted, she could see what looked like thick smoke flickering

amid the darkness of the ravine.

Of course, if Eldrie allowed the enemy to break through the First Regiment,

there would still be Renly waiting to lead the Second Regiment…

"I wonder if he's up to the task," Fizel contemplated. Linel nodded and leaned

closer to her partner to whisper, "I didn't say anything, because I was sure

Uncle Bercouli had good reason, but I still think right and left should be

switched in the Second Regiment. It's too worrisome having Eldricchi and

Renlicchi lined up together."

In an even more hushed voice, Fizel said, "I've been thinking…I bet he just

wants to minimize the chance that our unit has to fight at all…"

"…Ohhh…"

Linel glanced over at the slender figure standing some distance away from

them.

She had light armor, with a gray matte finish that was rare for an Integrity

Knight. Her dark-gray hair was parted directly in the middle of her white

forehead and was pulled into a ponytail at the back of her neck. She looked

about twenty years old, her eyelids were long and had a single fold, and she put

no rouge on her lips.

It was Sheyta Synthesis Twelve, often referred to as Sheyta the Silent,

although the origin of that nickname was unknown. But the girls were painfully

aware that she had to be much more dangerous than her unassuming

appearance would suggest. This knight was deadly. When she drew the rapier

from her left hip, they did not want to be anywhere near it.

Commander Bercouli probably didn't want Sheyta fighting, either, which was

why he'd placed her in command behind veteran Deusolbert, rather than the

youngster Eldrie. As long as the archer ahead did his job, she would not be

called on to fight.

But it was not solely because of this that Linel said to the silent superior

officer, "Um, Miss Sheyta?" When the woman glanced back, she continued,

"May we go and take a look at the rear?"

The knight's narrow eyebrows rose about two milices. It seemed to be the

equivalent of asking why, so she rushed to explain, "Um, it's just, we're

worried…"

The brows twitched again. It must have meant About what? It was very hard

to admit the answer, so Linel struggled to say, "Um…it's the guy with the supply

team—you know the one. The rebel…Kirito."

Next to her, Fizel nodded rapidly. Fizel and Linel had fought with the rebels

Kirito and Eugeo on the great stairs of Central Cathedral seven months ago.

Technically, they had used their hidden poisoned blades to paralyze the two

and had intended to drag them to the vice commander before cutting their

throats.

It should have been an easy job. But somehow, Kirito the rebel chanted the

antidote art, snatched away their daggers, and paralyzed them instead. When

he lowered the paralyzing dagger toward them where they were lying on the

floor, they felt no fear. At most, it was a bit of regret: Oh, darn, we were nearly

out of apprenticeship and made full-fledged Integrity Knights. Linel awaited the

moment that her life would end, hoping only that Kirito would make a clean go

of it and ensure she died without too much pain.

But the young man didn't kill them. He stabbed the dagger into the ground,

turned his back on them, and faced Vice Commander Fanatio in combat. Then

he proceeded to win a fight, ragged and wounded, that he had no business

winning.

Before he left, Kirito's partner, the criminal Eugeo, said something that Fizel

and Linel still remembered vividly.

"Knowing you two, you might be tempted to think that Fanatio and Kirito are

as strong as they are because they have Divine Objects and Perfect Weapon

Control at their disposal, but you'd be wrong. They're strong to begin with.

Their hearts are strong, not their techniques or weapons, and that's how they

can fight through such terrible pain and perform such incredible feats."

Even now, seven months later, they didn't entirely understand it. But it was

simply fact that the rebels Kirito and Eugeo had toppled Administrator, the

pontifex of the Church. Eugeo had given up his life in the process, and Kirito had

lost his mind and an arm.

What was it that the rebels had sought? What made a heart "strong"? It was

the search for those answers that had brought Fizel and Linel to take part in the

Human Guardian Army, all the way here at the Eastern Gate.

She still didn't have the answers. But when she'd seen Alice pushing that

wheelchair with Kirito in it, Linel had felt an unfamiliar emotion cross her

breast. It was the first time she had ever been unable to analyze what she was

feeling and thinking.

The apprentice knights Linel Synthesis Twenty-Eight and Fizel Synthesis

Twenty-Nine were born in Central Cathedral. They were told that their parents

were a holy man and woman of the Axiom Church, but they did not know their

names or faces.

Their parents had had children on the order of the pontifex and placed the

babies in a facility within the tower. There had been a total of thirty children

from similar circumstances in that place, but only the two sisters were still alive

today. The other twenty-eight had been unable to withstand the pontifex's

"resurrection arts" experiment and died.

Fizel and Linel had survived because they'd studied extremely hard to

discover the "best way to die" that caused the least mental and physical

damage. They'd pierced each other's hearts as instructed, died, and been

revived according to the sacred art. By the time the pontifex had given up on

the experiment, they'd been able to kill each other virtually without pain.

To them, strength was the ability to kill efficiently. If the opponent was better,

you had to run away. Run, then practice, and if you got better than the

opponent, you could kill them next time. So facing a stronger opponent and

standing there allowing yourself to be damaged and hurt was a pointless act

according to their way of thinking.

The rebels Kirito and Eugeo had been no better than lower knights in terms of

sheer battle ability. But they'd given up body and life to fight the pontifex and

won.

For what purpose?

What did it gain them?

Linel wanted to ask Kirito on their reunion, but Integrity Knight Alice was at

his side at every moment, and they couldn't make contact. She didn't know

whether it was possible to have a conversation with him in his current state, but

she didn't want him to die before she could try. As long as the Second Regiment

didn't get breached, the supply team in the back should be safe, but that unrest

on the left wing was concerning.

But they couldn't explain all of that to their commanding officer, Sheyta, so

they kept it simple and waited for her answer on pins and needles. The "Silent"

knight's gray eyes glanced to the left wing and paused for two seconds, and

then she pointed behind them with her left hand.

"Uh…y-you mean we can go?"

Sheyta nodded to them, so Linel and Fizel gave her a compact knight's salute.

"Thank you, ma'am! We will return at once if everything is well!"

They turned and began to run along the line of troops.

"Thank you," indeed. We never even said those words to the pontifex.

Linel shared a look and a smirk with her partner and picked up her pace.

Renly Synthesis Twenty-Seven was about to sink to his knees in the back of

the supply tent when he heard multiple shouts and breath being drawn sharply

from a surprisingly close distance.

Could it be? Had the enemy broken through the ravine's defenses so quickly?

No, that was impossible. Less than twenty minutes had passed since the fighting

had started.

He was just overagitated, he decided. It was making him hear distant sounds

very clearly—that was all. But the reactions of the two girls who had already

evacuated to this tent told him that the approaching voices of soldiers were not

figments of his imagination.

"No way…Are they already this far back?!"

The red-haired student named Tiese Schtrinen looked up and rushed quickly

to the entrance of the tent. She lifted the flap and checked outside. Her whisper

came back sharp and quick.

"Smoke…!"

Ronie Arabel stiffened. "Wha…? You can see fire, Tiese?!"

"No, it's just really dark smoke…No, hang on. I can see…a bunch of people

coming from the…"

Tiese's words seemed to be swallowed up by the heavy canvas flap as she

peered through the gap. In the tense silence that followed, Renly hovered

above a crouch, listening intently.

He suddenly realized he could no longer hear the shouting. But while it was

quieter now, he sensed that someone was coming closer. There were damp

footsteps outside, slapping on firm ground.

Suddenly and awkwardly, Tiese pulled back from the doorway to the center of

the tent. Her trembling hand reached across her body to her waist. No sooner

did Renly realize that she was trying to draw her weapon than the hanging door

was violently ripped loose.

It was night outside, the only source of light the campfires lit here and there,

dim and red, against which stood a figure. It was short and hunched but with

unusually thick arms, clutching a crude weapon that looked as if it had been cut

straight out of metal plate.

A stench wafted in with the air from the doorway, stinging Renly's nose.

Primary Trainee Schtrinen pulled her sword loose, rattling the sheath as she did

so. Next to the wheelchair, Primary Trainee Arabel gasped, "A goblin?!"

The alien intruder spoke, its voice hissing and raspy. "Ooh…Little Ium girls…

You will be my prey…"

Tiese backed away, repelled by the open, ugly greed in its voice. Though he

was an elite Integrity Knight, this was the first time Renly had ever laid eyes on

a nonhuman from the Dark Territory. He had been frozen in storage before he

could earn the dragon that would have taken him over the End Mountains in

the first place.

It's…completely different, he thought, in dull shock.

Through lectures from the older knights and the cathedral's documents, he'd

thought he'd learned a fair bit about the four nonhuman races of the Dark

Territory. But the goblins he'd imagined to be some mischievous fairies out of

legends were nothing at all like the hideous creature standing not eight mels

away.

He felt his fingers going numb. The goblin took one heavy step forward. Light

gleamed off his dirty armor plates as if they were fish scales.

Tiese held her sword up toward the goblin with both hands, but her knees

shook so badly, the tip wouldn't stay still. The faint sound of chattering Renly

could pick up must have been her teeth.

"T…Tiese…," Ronie whimpered. She stood before Kirito's wheelchair,

protecting it, with her hand on her sword hilt, but her legs were shivering, too.

He had to stand. He had to get to his feet, draw his Double-Winged Blades,

and fight the goblin warrior.

And yet, Renly's body was as unresponsive to commands as if it were made of

stone. It was just one nonhuman enemy. The Integrity Knight was worth a

thousand soldiers; he had been given enough power to take on a thousand such

goblins and win.

"Gffh…How tasty you look…," the goblin crowed, licking its lips, only to drool a

large, sticky glob of saliva.

"S-stay back! Or else I'll…," Tiese warned, summoning all her courage, but

that only enticed the goblin further. The grinning demi-human took another

step forward, not even brandishing its weapon yet.

Thuk.

There was a soft, dry sound inside the tent.

The goblin soldier's yellow eyes stared with wonder at its own chest. A piece

of sharp, smooth metal jutted out from the crude slab of armor there. Fresh

blood gleamed and ran down the surface of the sharp metal object: a sword

point. Someone had pierced the goblin's heart from behind.

"…What…is this…?"

They were the goblin's final words. The strength drained from its powerful

body, and it fell limp to the floor of the tent.