An itchy sensation came and went, unplaceable like someone attempting to undress him with their eyes—reaching out from the empty spaces. The urge to get up and immediately run coursed through him in the form of a whole-body shiver. Of course, Quintin was unaware of the impending crisis heading his way.

Strange as it was, it was merely momentary. He had much more pressing concerns than imaginary displeasure, such as; what's my best option right here and now?

The tunnel he was in began to curve at around five meters from the Sentry Goblin, opening up into a fairly large chamber. Water shimmered with a miscast reflection of firelight, the sound of it lapping gently against some half-sunken stone buildings. Around a quarter of what he could see of the cavernous area was flooded depths, the rest being flat ground where the [Goblins] were at. The Sentry stood there, bored, looking back to the firepits in absent desire.

Quintin could see the eerie, shadow-cast visage of heads on pikes that danced within the domain of flames, around the bonfires. Humanoid entities and Beast heads alike as they shared the same stage and cut a cruel depiction of violence on the light-touched surroundings. The [Goblins] made copious noise as the discarded bones continued to pile up behind them while they feasted.

There were four unruined stone houses, but the rubble and debris from other, less fortunate, structures was everywhere. There was plenty of cover for what he planned to do.

He knew where around twenty of them were, but he would need to check each and every building; [Sinisphere] could not register sleeping enemies. Starting with Sir Neglectful up ahead. He made little to no noise thanks to his [Battle-Robe] and [Dex.], which made his movements more refined and fine-tuned.

Quintin held his breath as he waited for the perfect opportunity to sneak up behind the Sentry Goblin.

not now.

not now.

...now!

An outburst of giggle-laughter came and went from around one of the firepits, and with it, the lone [Goblin's] attention was attracted. Quintin didn't miss this chance, taking long, silent strides towards the intent in front. His hand cupped around the [Goblin's] mouth and the other snapped its neck as he began to carry the creature back into the tunnel.

Quintin placed the body in a small alcove a few meters back and patted it down. He came back with unremarkable findings, but still stuffed a dagger and shield in his [Storage], along with his first [Goblin] ear; sliced off with said dagger.

The buildings have open windows with no glass. I should be able to sneak a peek inside. If I'm careful I may be able to whittle down their numbers, Quintin thought as he returned back to the cavern entrance.

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While crouch-walking, he made his way to the first building. He peered over the windowsill and counted ten sleeping [Goblins] inside. Quintin decided he wasn't going to feel bad for [Monsters] who put heads on pikes.

Little more than murderous [Brigands] at best, and at worst... well, I don't need a worst; murderous [Brigands] is more than enough reason.

Quintin marveled at how his footsteps were as silent as flesh would be. Light touches against the debris-riddled ground had made no unwarranted noises along the way. He let the thought pass and concentrated on slipping inside through the low-cut window. One by one he crouched over and crushed their necks while they slept. He gave them a quick end, rather than be overwhelmed later when the real fights broke out. Afterward, he panted hard while leaning against the windowsill he entered from.

That was a lot harder than I imagined it would be, [Brigands] or not. They appear as little more than children in size. But I've heard the stories of them, I've seen what they can do already, he thought.

Quintin calmed himself down as he bent over their peaceful forms, taking their ears and turning back to the window.

The next house was barely discernible in darkness. It was away from most of the [Goblin] activity, over near the water's edge. His back was against the wall as he waited for a [Goblin] to pass before he crept towards that more distant building.

Like the first house, this one also had a window, but it was closed by perfectly intact glass within the frame. A supply of supple light licked against it as Quintin took a quick peek inside. A lone [Goblin] sat with its eyes closed, looking like a form of [Meditation] or deep focus.

The [Goblin] wore a sort of ceremonial garb. A headdress of odd feathers and bones cascaded down its back. It appeared to be a normal [Goblin] in size, but it had the distinctive Iron-Beak of the [Hobgoblin] he saw earlier. A tome of some design was laid out in front—a title written in ink-black and even blacker symbols carved onto the cover.

Identify.

[Iron-Beak Headbearer] Lv. 23

- Shaman-type

- Evolved

- Evoker

HP: 355/355 MP: 600/600 SP: 400/400

A strange, magically inclined [Goblin] that has learned

to use some ancient form of [Magic]. Perhaps it wins

at coin tosses by choosing heads?

The Headbearer paused for a moment, looking up from its idle-state to the windowsill. Quintin had already ducked back from his look. He chastised himself internally for not using [Envision].

Well, it's also true that if I let my [Sinisphere] down to use [Envision] then a [Goblin] might sneak up on me. What was that last part about? Wins at coin tosses by choosing heads? and it's a [Headbearer]? I have no idea what that means, he thought.

The Headbearer went back to its meditative study, all the while Quintin was pondering whether he wanted to save this guy for last.

It's alone right now and has low [HP] for a level 23. Should I risk using my projectiles? They do make quite a lot of noise, and there are no guarantees this guy is wearing [Common] defenses either. If I'm going to take it out, I'll need to fly in there and engage in a tight in-fight. I can't allow it to use its [Magic] and make too much noise... I feel like too many things need to go in my favor.

Quintin decisively slinked off towards his next target. The Headbearer once again looked up with deep concern apparent on its features—a double-take as perturbing as the pitch-black book that laid in front of him.