The arrow flew.
It struck the goblin archer square in the head. The body collapsed without a sound.
The remaining four froze for a fraction of a second—just long enough.
I had already drawn my second arrow.
Before the other archer could even identify my position, I released. The arrow punched through its chest. The goblin staggered once and fell face-first into the dirt.
Two down.
The sword-bearing goblin reached for a horn at its waist.
I adjusted my aim—not to kill.
The arrow shattered the horn mid-motion, knocking it from the goblin's grip and sending it spinning away. The goblin cried out in panic.
Without the signal, the formation changed.
The shield goblin stepped forward, planting its shield firmly into the ground. The two sword goblins moved in close behind it, forming a crude but effective defensive wall.
From above, I couldn't get a clean shot.
That was fine.
They thought I was an archer.
I secured my bow, looped the rope I had prepared earlier, and descended silently from the tree, keeping to cover.
For a moment, neither side moved.
A standoff.
I broke it.
I drew an arrow, infused it lightly with dark aura—not for penetration, but for degradation—and fired.
The arrow slammed into the shield.
The goblins tensed, searching for my position.
That was the opening.
I coated my body in aura and exploded forward, power surging into my legs.
The spear came first.
I executed the Second Manual: Spear – Dual Breaker.
Not a thrust. Not a slash.
Destruction.
The axe-blade mounted along the spear tore into the shield. Wood shattered. The impact launched the shield goblin into the air, throwing it several meters back. It crashed hard into the ground with a sickening crack.
I didn't assume it was dead.
The two sword goblins charged immediately.
At this distance, the spear was no longer optimal.
I let it drop.
One sword came high—aiming for my chest. The other swept low, trying to cripple my legs.
I ducked and rolled sideways, barely clearing both attacks.
The instant my feet touched the ground, I changed direction.
I sprinted straight for the shield goblin.
It was still alive—barely. Broken ribs. Shallow breaths.
I ended it with one clean slash.
No survivors left behind. No mistakes repeated.
The remaining sword goblins reached me moments later.
They attacked together, crude coordination but relentless.
I rushed one deliberately, forcing separation.
Steel met steel.
I reinforced my blade with aura and struck again. The goblin's weapon cracked, then shattered. My follow-up cut dropped it instantly.
The last goblin hesitated—fear finally catching up.
Then it charged wildly.
It died just as quickly.
Silence returned to the clearing.
I retrieved my spear from where I had dropped it and recovered every usable arrow from the fallen goblins. Then I collected their ears as proof.
Finally, I burned the bodies completely.
Goblins learned if survivors escaped.
I didn't leave survivors.
When I turned back toward the road, my breathing was steady.
My hands didn't shake.
This wasn't victory.
This was confirmation.
I had crossed the line.