Chapter 564

Nick flew a hundred feet behind the adventuring party, using [Stillness] and his [Spiritual Sovereign] trait to mask his presence. It was a bit overkill, he’d readily admit, but the closer he got to the capital, the more cautious he’d have to be, and getting in the habit now would only help later on.

Below, the four adventurers marched in a loose diamond formation. Lance took the front, his kite shield strapped to his forearm and his sword unsheathed, ready to use at any moment. Jax ranged slightly to the left, constantly scanning their surroundings, while Lira and Materia held the center and rear guard.

They moved with an easy stride, making good time and looking focused on their duties, but their conversation stayed hushed, meant only for their own ranks. With a bit of wind manipulation, Nick caught every word.

"I am telling you, that cut on the carp was unnatural," Jax muttered, flipping a dagger into the air and catching it by the hilt. "Sheared clean through the bone plates. No burn marks on the edges, no frost. Just severed. You need a Master-tier artifact to cut armor like that.”

"Or a Master-tier spell," Lance replied, his eyes fixed on the trail ahead. "He knew we were approaching long before we saw the fire and stayed perfectly relaxed throughout the night. A young man alone in the wilderness, roasting a beast that would require a full guild raid to bring down. The only possible reason is that we could never be a threat to him.”

"He was polite," Materia offered. “I don’t think he had any ill intentions.”

"The polite ones are always the most dangerous," Jax grumbled.

Lira walked in silence for a long moment, seemingly lost in thought. "He saw the flaw in my spellcasting with a single glance," she said in muted awe. “I practiced that spell specifically because I’m not good at it, and I wanted to see how he’d react. I know instructors who’d charge ten gold coins for that kind of insight, and few could have instructed me as precisely as he did. I just don’t get what a mage of that caliber was doing in the middle of nowhere.”

Nick didn’t need his spiritual senses to tell him what she was thinking. That he was some kind of hidden master, merely wearing the guise of a young man.

I suppose, in a way, that’s not too far from the truth. But it’s also not right. I am Nick Crowley, son of Elena and Eugene. The first few months were rough, but this is my life now.

"Whatever he pleases," Lance said, ending the speculation. "We should be approaching the Marrow Caves, so let’s set this aside for now. Check your gear.”

Soon afterward, the terrain shifted as scrubland gave way to a rocky ravine. At the foot of a cliff, a broad crack yawned into the bedrock. Broken animal bones and rusted debris from looted merchant wagons littered the entrance.

Compared to the Starlit Caves, this place was almost cute, but for a team like the one he was following, its dangers were real.

The adventurers stopped fifty yards out, taking cover behind a cluster of boulders, and began their methodical preparations.

Jax pulled a small glass vial from his belt and carefully coated his daggers with amber-colored sap. A paralytic agent. Lance tightened the leather straps on his shield and checked his sword’s edge. Materia knelt in the dirt, murmuring a quiet prayer as she touched her silver amulet, casting a subtle endurance blessing over her three companions.

Lira approached the base of the cliff and drew a small circle in the dust with the butt of her staff, infusing it with a spark of mana. It was an alarm ward, meant to flare if anything tried to flank them from the outside.

Not very useful for defense, but its range was surprisingly good, and he could tell it was her creation by the unorthodox mix of Berean and a few runes.

Master Tholm would have considered it amateurish at best, but for someone without a Tower education, it did the job well enough.

Nick drifted past them, flying over the runic circle without triggering the alarm, then up the vertical wall until he reached a secondary cave entrance, where he settled down to watch the team operate.

Jax slipped into the cavern first, melting into the shadows. Five minutes passed in silence before he reappeared, holding up three fingers, then tapping his shoulder. Three sentries.

Lance nodded. He stepped in and found a natural chokepoint where the tunnel narrowed between two jutting rocks. He planted his feet, raised his kite shield, and braced his shoulder against the stone, forming a wall of steel and muscle no mere goblin could hope to overcome.

A matter of source, not style: carries the author's chapter, and this version was reproduced without approval.

Once the girls had found their place behind him, Jax whistled loudly.

A moment later, the goblins answered with guttural shrieks. Three green-skinned creatures charged from the deeper tunnel, wielding cleavers and spears. They were chaotic, driven by malice and hunger, with no semblance of discipline.

It was no surprise they crashed headlong into Lance’s shield, drawn to it by his skill. He absorbed the impact without yielding an inch of ground and shoved forward, knocking the lead goblin off balance and into its fellows.

Lira murmured a short incantation, releasing a cone of flame that washed over the staggered goblins. The blast incinerated their crude leather armor and seared their lungs, silencing any scream.

That was when Jax darted around the stalagmite, his daggers flashing as he slashed the hamstrings of the surviving goblins and dropped them to the floor. Materia was next, crushing their skulls with precise strikes of her mace.

A bit overkill, but it clearly worked for them, Nick thought as he watched from the ceiling, nodding in approval. This was how professionals survived the meat grinder that was a whole goblin horde.

They dictated the terms of the engagement, using the terrain to negate the enemy's numerical advantage and prevent injuries in their ranks, keeping their reserves as high as possible.

They repeated the tactic four times over the next hour, drawing small patrols into favorable chokepoints and slaughtering them with no casualties and minimal mana expenditure.

Eventually, the natural walls gave way to ancient, worked stone. They had reached the ruins of a forgotten subterranean outpost.

Goblin corpses piled up, and they showed no sign of slowing, but the ether was shifting.

As the team advanced down a wide, paved corridor, a crude iron javelin shot from the darkness. It struck Lance’s kite shield with the force of a battering ram, skittering off the enchanted steel and driving him back a full step.

Three figures emerged from the dark.

These were not standard goblins. They stood nearly six feet tall, their bodies corded with muscle and their eyes sharper than any of their lesser kin could match. They wore scavenged chainmail and wielded massive two-handed iron clubs. Hobgoblins.

Behind them, a fourth figure stepped into the flickering light cast by Lira's staff. It was a bit smaller, draped in wolf pelts, and holding a staff topped with a humanoid skull. A hobgoblin shaman.

They're pretty strong for lesser goblinoids, but I expected that, considering that guy's presence.

The shaman raised its staff and, with a cackled word, hurled a bolt of green-tinged lightning down the corridor, striking Lance’s shield. The steel groaned as the spell's force drove him to one knee.

Materia rushed forward, pressing her hands to his back and flooding him with a surge of healing light that stabilized his stance. Jax hurled a pair of throwing knives at the shaman, but one of the hobgoblins casually batted the blades aside with its iron club.

Lance barely grunted as he stood back up, eyes darting from the towering brutes to the spellcaster in the rear as he assessed the situation. “This is not a standard nest. The bounty was wrong.”

As he spoke, Jax and Lira engaged the monsters at a distance, trying to prevent their advance and buy him time.

Seeing how little their efforts were achieving, Lance made the call without hesitation. "Fall back. We have to pull out. Let the guild hand this to a B-Rank team.”

In truth, Nick was pretty sure they could win, but the adventurers had little reason to risk their lives here. The benefits of winning were not worth the risk of death.

"We'll take a black mark on our record for abandoning a contract!" Lira warned, but was already preparing another cone of fire to cover their retreat.

"Better a black mark than dying," Lance countered, his voice hard with authority. "Move! Fighting retreat. Jax, watch for other approaches.”

It was the correct, professional decision. Nick respected him for making it. Unfortunately, he would never make it out as things stood.

The adventurers began to move, maintaining their diamond formation, but the monsters pressed their advantage. Iron clubs smashed into the stone walls, driving Lance back and sending rocks flying through the tunnels, making their retreat even harder.

Far below the fight, a presence stirred. Dark mana filled it, dense and ancient, and if Nick wasn’t missing his mark, it was around level eighty-two. Not something the adventurers could handle, especially now that it had noticed them.

Following the presence’s command, a shadow dropped from a vertical shaft in the ceiling directly behind Jax, blocking the team's exit.

It was another Hobgoblin, but this one stood seven feet tall, its green skin etched with ritualistic scars. It wielded a double-bladed battleaxe, and its eyes blazed with intelligent malice. It roared, swinging the axe wide and forcing Jax to dive to the floor to avoid decapitation.

The adventurers were pinned. The hobgoblins pressed the front, the lieutenant held the rear, and the shaman hurled bolt after bolt of green lightning to keep Lira from casting anything powerful enough to force the monsters back.

And deep below, the true threat began to ascend. Nick felt its aura expand, creeping up the shafts toward the sounds of combat. It was a creature gorged on the flesh of men and monsters alike, mutated far beyond its species’ natural limits, a Goblin King.

If it reached this corridor, the adventurers would be crushed instantly.

Nick flew down the shaft, leaving them to their desperate fight, and plunged into the dark.

He didn’t have to fly long before he found his quarry, who’d just left a rudimentary throne room behind, likely once the outpost commander’s residence.

It was a grotesque thing, standing at nine feet tall, its skin hardened into dark, leathery armor plates that covered layers of blubber. It had four arms, the result of severe mutation, and wielded a greatsword looted from a fallen knight in its primary hands. An aura of dominating malice radiated from its form, powerful enough to break the will of lesser creatures, which explained its size.

It tilted its head, sensing something, and opened its maw, revealing rows of yellow teeth, drawing a breath to unleash a commanding roar that would summon the rest of its horde.

[Saga of the Storm Caller] formed a blade of air over his right hand, though calling it that was an understatement. In truth, it was a microscopic hurricane, rotating at a velocity that defied physics, contained within a millimeter of space.

[Spatial Relocation] swapped his coordinates with a patch of dust directly in front of the Goblin King, and his hand sheared through hide, fat, muscle, and the thick spinal column without a sound. The cut was so fast, so utterly perfect, that the King stood for a few seconds, completely unaware he was dead.

As the severed torso began to slide off its shoulders, Nick vanished it into his ring.

“Now let’s see if those guys actually need my help,” he murmured, though not before casting a glance around the room beyond and looting a few things.