The monster pits beneath the Vistro estate were a mess of caves, all linked together and digging deep into the earth. The air was gross, like ammonia mixed with dirty water and the metallic smell of old blood. Light didn't stand a chance down there; instead, glowing green mushrooms stuck to the walls, making the piles of bones and trash look even worse.
Edward Vistro stood at the entrance to the main cave. His senses, sharpened from reaching the Middle Adept stage, cut through the darkness. He didn't just see it; he felt the quick heartbeats of thousands of creatures.
Goblins.
So many of them. They were small, bent over things with bruised green skin and glowing yellow eyes that showed they were always hungry. Usually, you'd find them scavenging in the Iron Duchy or the deep forests of Silvanus. But here, they were everywhere, huddled in the shadows, their nails scraping on the stone as they moved like a restless crowd.
Edward didn't waste time on the regular goblins. He looked past them to the back of the cave, where the shadows formed a throne made of sharp obsidian. The Horde Leader sat there.
In his tenth life, Edward thought this was just a really big nest. But in his seventieth regression, he learned the awful truth about the Vistro family. His father, the Marquis, had betrayed the Church of Light, using forbidden magic to make a goblin smarter. He mixed human brains with strong magic, creating a creature that could think, plan, and even speak like a person. The Marquis, he wanted a general for a private monster army to use against the King of Luminaris when the civil war started.
The Horde Leader, a huge, muscled thing with a surprisingly human-like forehead, sensed Edward's spiritual gaze with a cold intelligence that the other goblins didn't have.
The closest goblins, a group of about thirty scouts, stopped their chattering and turned to look at Edward, who seemed to appear out of nowhere.
To them, Edward was a joke. He wasn't wearing armor, just dirty prisoner clothes. He had no sword or staff, and he looked small and weak. Most importantly, because of the suppression rune he had put on himself, he didn't give off any magical energy. In their world, where strength was measured by energy, Edward was nothing.
The goblins hissed. They thought this was amazing. A defenseless human child had walked right into their home. They hadn't tasted human meat since the last training accident months ago.
They got excited and started to spread out, their knives and rusty weapons shining in the mushroom light. They didn't even tell the Leader; they just ran at Edward, a wave of screeching, smelly bodies.
Edward watched them, his face expressionless. He didn't use his magic or get ready to cast a spell. He didn't need to.
In the Human Domain, the comprehension of martial arts and swordplay was categorized by a ten-star system. A 1-star practitioner was a trained soldier; a 5-star was a master of a kingdom; a 10-star was a legend whose blade could split the clouds. Mastery within each star was further divided into levels of insight—Initial, Accomplished, and Transcendent.
Edward Vistro was a man who had mastered every sword art known to the seven kingdoms across his thousand lives. He had mastered the Eclipse Blade of Ondaris and the Sun-Slayer Forms of Solterra. In his previous life, his 10-star sword mastery was so absolute that he could slay cultivators two full realms above him, severing their souls before their mana could even form a shield.
However, his current body was a bottleneck. His muscles lacked the density to withstand the sheer force of a 10-star art. To attempt a 10-star strike now would be to have his own arm explode from the attempt.
"Three stars," Edward whispered, his feet shifting into a foundational stance that was so perfect it seemed to anchor him to the planet's core. "That is all this body can handle for now. A Transcendent 3-star is more than enough for vermins like them."
The first goblin, a screeching thing with a rusty blade, jumped at Edward's throat.
Edward didn't back down. He moved into the goblin's space. He was so smooth and fast it was hard to see him move at all. With a flick of his wrist, he hit the goblin's arm where the nerve met the bone.
The goblin's hand jerked, and the blade flew into the air.
Edward caught it. In his hand, the rusty junk became something else. He held it like it was part of him. Before the goblin knew what was happening, Edward spun the blade in a quick circle.
Swoosh—
A wet sound.
The goblin's head didn't just fall off; it was cut off so perfectly that the body stood for a moment, blood spraying from the neck.
Edward didn't wait for the body to fall. As the goblin died, he reached out and touched its spine.
"Extract!" he said in his mind.
The Epic Extraction spell, powered by his Middle Adept magic, came to life. A thin line of purple energy went into the goblin's spine. In a moment, the most important thing about the goblin—its raw, primal marrow that held its strength—was sucked out. It condensed into a small, glowing marble of white-green energy that hovered above Edward's palm.
He crushed the marble.
The energy surged into his own pores, flowing directly into his bones. He felt a sharp, burning sensation as the goblin essence began to "fire" his skeleton, increasing its density and widening the narrow mana channels that lined his marrow. It was a painful, grueling process of self-refinement, but Edward didn't even flinch. He had felt worse.
By the time the goblin's body fell, its skin was grey and lifeless, all its energy gone.
The other goblins didn't stop. They were too dumb to understand what had just happened. Three more jumped at him from different sides.
Edward moved like smoke.
Three-Star Sword Art: Form Two—The Reaping Moon.
He stepped between the goblins, twisting his body in ways that shouldn't be possible. The rusty blade moved in a figure-eight.
Slash. Stab. Turn.
Two goblins were killed before they could land, their guts spilling out. The third was stabbed through the eye. Edward didn't waste any movement. Every step was planned; every swing was deadly.
In a minute, the thirty goblins lay in a heap around him. And after each kill, Edward's hand flickered, performing the extraction. Thirty marbles of essence were absorbed. His skin, which had been pale and thin, began to take on a faint, healthy sheen. His muscles, though still small, felt like coiled steel cables.
He was tempering himself in real-time, using the bodies of his enemies as the anvil and his own mana as the hammer.
The cave went silent. The chattering of the thousands of goblins in the back stopped. They were dumb, but they knew when to be scared. They watched the little kid standing in a circle of dead goblins, wiping blood from a rusty blade.
Edward looked up, past the dead goblins, and stared at the Horde Leader.
The evolved goblin was standing, his hands gripping his throne. He looked scared. He saw the way Edward stood, so confident, without a drop of sweat.
"Come on," Edward said quietly. "I need more. You haven't even filled one percent of my foundation."
The goblins started to back away. They were scared of the killing intent around Edward. The screeching stopped, replaced by whimpering.
Edward didn't let them escape. He wanted them to serve their purpose.
He held the blade and smiled. It was a cruel smile, the smile of a killer who was back in his element.
He took a step forward.
The goblins flinched. The darkness seemed to pull back from him, and a bit of his power leaked through, just enough to show them what kind of monster he really was.
"One thousand," Edward thought, looking at the scared goblins. "By morning, I'll be strong enough to be a King."
He stepped forward again, and the killing started.