I sprinted across the open field, following the path I had set before a straight shot from the treeline to the top of the hill from the log with the stripped bark. I pushed myself with all of my might: outpacing them quicker here than I had for the entire run back to this spot. I hopped over the sandbag barricade, and pulled open one of the fatigue potions I had set there beforehand, and down it. As soon as it hits my stomach, a wave of heat rushes through me, and then cools my muscles and slows my heart rate.

The goblins had entered the meadow. The large goblin barked another order and they came to a stop at the edge of the treeline while the goblin leader stepped in front of them. He gazed across the meadow, and grinned wickedly: its large, black eyes resting on the stripped bark, and where my footsteps disturbed to the dew-laden grass. Could it be that he realized what I was going to do? That the rest of the field was full of traps?

You need to kill that one.

“Why?”

Goblins have a kind of hive mind when they’re around a stronger species of goblin. They will listen to their commands unerringly while they’re alive. When the stronger species is dead, however, they will work on pure instincts.

At another barked order, the mass of goblins began to form into a 2x2 line. The ones at the front carried wooden shields, and held them up in front of them, while the ones behind them held their shields up above them to for a kind of protective ceiling. The leader, meanwhile, dallied at the end of the line, its powerful arms tucked behind its back. They began to march up the hill, following the same path I had inadvertently carved through the tall grass.

“Fuck.”

I set my rifle on top of the sandbags, and take careful aim. The goblin leader took note of this and took a step back: retreating for the treeline. I fired, and the bullet slammed into the truck door, and the goblin retreated behind the cover of a birch tree.

“Fuck.” I muttered again.

The goblins were already halfway up the hill. I would have to retreat: I had made a small escape route in the back and covered the back of the hill with traps as well. I took a deep breath and exhaled and fired a round into the front of the group. The shield exploded, and I quickly pulled back the rack and fired again. The bullet slammed into the exposed chest of the goblin. It fell back, and the one behind it stepped forward and lowered its shield, and the ranks closed in again.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

One more anima bullet. I breathed in and began to cough. I clutched at my throat, as I scrambled for water and downed it to douse the burning sensation spreading through it as if I had just swallowed pepper spray.

“What was that?”

You’ve used too much anima in such a short period of time.

“Fuck.” I muttered again. I fired once more: trying to line a shot through the spaces in between the shields. The bullet skids off the iron rim and into the head of one of the goblins behind the one at the front. Lucky shot.

The goblins were three-quarters up the hill now. I had no choice but to retreat. I cursed my luck, got what items I needed together, and sprinted across the large flat plateau. By the time I reached the other end, the first rank of goblins had crested the hill. I glanced around and saw the other tree with stripped bark, and adjusted my trajectory toward it. The goblins were following after me...continuing to follow the path I had set out. Fuck.

There was only one thing I could do. I swallowed the fear and decided to rely on my perception. I glanced toward the hillside beside the path I had set out. There. A space of undisturbed ground beside two clumps of grass very loosely out of the ground. I hopped over to that, and nearly fell over, but caught myself. I took another couple of steps: keeping my eye on the ground, and stepping on the safe ground.

Dirt exploded behind me and splattered against my ear as one of the traps I had set up went off. It was a simple trap: based on a trap the Vietcong apparently used during the Vietnam War: you take a bullet, hold it upright with a sleeve, and put it so that it rests against a nail or a tack or something similar (a barb from the barbed wire, in my case) and disturb the ground in such a way that the pullet and sleeve will depress against the nail, setting it off. The end result was a hole in the foot of the poor person above it. To give mine a bit of extra kick, I added a layer of Tundra’s Salt Peter above the bullet to some or slathered others in the paste of Cassandra’s Thorn. Judging by the force of the explosion, this one was one of the former.

Three notifications on my PID let me know that three more Goblins died from that trap. Good. At least this plan was succeeding. I glanced to the front of the hill, where the Goblin commander was standing at the edge of the treeline. A thought came to my mind: I was quicker than the average goblin, so I should be able to make it to him before they caught up with me, right? I drew my pistol and hopped over the next few traps.

A punji trap was triggered, and two fell in only to be impaled together on the sharpened stakes three feet down. Next was another makeshift mine. Four more pings. I see the shimmer of twine hidden in the grass, and I hop over it before I hear it snapping: the Ring Briar hooked up to it wrapped around the creature’s ankle. The diabolical herb curled and grew rapidly as it bit into the scaled flesh of the goblin.

I sprinted across the sloped grass and hopped onto the safe path. I pointed my pistol forward and squeezed the trigger. The goblin, however, seemed to sense where the bullets would be and weaved around the shots. The bullets sailed off a knocked down a few twigs and branches.

The large goblin stepped backward, and retreated into the woods: I grabbed a bottle of fatigue potion and took another deep drink as I gave chase. As soon as I stepped into the shaded woods, something hard slammed into my side, and I was flung off my feet. I rolled to a stop, and a group of goblins, hidden in the shadows of the trees stepped out.

Fuck. Did I really get outsmarted by a goblin? That was the last thought going through my head when a wooden club crashed against the back of my head, and my consciousness went black.