Chapter Thirty One Goblin Lord

The flames roared wildly around the warehouse, surrounding Damian, Astrid, and Miles, all three stared down by the two hulking figures that emerged from the smoke. The larger of the two was the goblin warlord, towering even higher than the troll they had faced before. Its muscles and large sight were covered with sweat and soot, and it carried a massive, blood-stained axe. Beside it, the goblin mage stood with its staff, the air around it shimmering faintly as mana radiated off its body. Its cruel eyes filled with malice.

“Stick to the plan!” Damian shouted, gripping his sword tightly. “Astrid, focus on the mage! We can’t let it cast. Miles, I need you—”

“On it!” Miles cut him off, already sprinting around the edge of the battlefield. “I’ll find Howard and his team!”

Damian nodded, his jaw clenched as he turned to Astrid. “It’s just us now. Don’t let up.”

Astrid took a deep breath, her hands trembling as she knocked an arrow. “I won’t.”

The warlord roared, shaking the ground beneath their feet as it charged. Damian darted forward, his sword raised, while Astrid positioned herself on a stack of crates, aiming at the mage. Her first arrow flew true, striking the mage in the shoulder, but the creature barely flinched. Instead, it growled and slammed its staff into the ground, sending a shockwave of fire hurtling toward her.

“Astrid, move!” Damian yelled.

Astrid leaped from the crates just as the fireball exploded, the heat licking at her heels. She landed hard, rolling to absorb the impact, and quickly scrambled to her feet, her face pale.

“I’m fine!” she shouted back, already drawing another arrow. “Keep that thing busy!”

Damian didn’t need to be told twice. He dashed toward the warlord, sidestepping a wide swing of its axe that cleaved straight through a metal support beam. The force of the attack sent shards of metal flying, one slicing across Damian’s arm. He winced but pressed on, channeling mana into his sword.

“Lightning Spear!” he roared, hurling the electrified weapon at the mage. The spear crackled as it tore through the air, striking the mage square in the chest. It stumbled back, screeching in pain, but it wasn’t enough to take it down.

Damian cursed under his breath. “This isn’t working…”

The warlord took advantage of his distraction, slamming the flat of its axe into Damian’s side. The impact sent him sprawling, his body skidding across the ground. Astrid screamed his name, but her cry was cut short as the mage turned its focus on her, firing a volley of ice shards in her direction. She dove for cover behind a crate, but the shards shattered against her makeshift shield, one grazing her cheek and drawing blood.

“We can’t keep this up, Damian!” Astrid called out, her voice shaking.

“We don’t have a choice!” Damian growled, forcing himself to his feet. His ribs ached, and every breath was a struggle, but he couldn’t let her see his fear. “We take down that mage, or we’re dead!”

Astrid nodded, her hands steadying as she drew another arrow. “Cover me.”

The warlord charged again, its axe raised high. Damian braced himself, activating Iron Skin just as the weapon came down. The blow sent a shockwave through his body, but the skill held, and he used the opening to slash at the warlord’s leg. The creature bellowed in pain but didn’t falter, swinging its axe wildly in retaliation.

Meanwhile, Miles darted through the maze of crates and debris, his heart pounding. He could hear the battle raging behind him—the warlord’s roars, Astrid’s arrows whistling through the air, and Damian’s shouts of defiance.

“Come on, come on,” he muttered to himself, scanning the area. His stealth skill allowed him to move unseen, but it didn’t make him any faster. He needed to find Howard’s team before it was too late.

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Just ahead, he spotted a cluster of goblins guarding a small group of bound figures. His heart sank. The soldiers were alive but battered, their uniforms torn and bloodied. One of the goblins raised a knife, and Miles felt a surge of panic.

“I have to move,” he whispered, gripping his bat tightly.

But before he could act, a loud crash echoed from the battlefield, followed by Damian’s voice:

“Astrid, now!”

Miles turned back briefly, torn between helping his friends and saving the soldiers. He tightened his grip on the bat, steeling himself.

Damian, don’t die on me. I’ll get them, I promise.

The scene shifted back to Damian and Astrid, both on the verge of collapse. The warlord stood tall, its leg wounded but still functional, while the mage’s staff began to glow with a dark, ominous light.

Damian gritted his teeth, blood dripping from a cut above his eye. “Astrid, whatever you’re planning, do it now.”

Astrid didn’t respond, but her next arrow shimmered with a faint red glow—Blood Shot. She let it fly, aiming straight for the mage’s head.

The goblin camp erupted in chaos as Miles raced back toward Howard’s team, his chest heaving from the exertion. The group of soldiers, battered but alive, were freeing themselves from the bindings with his help. Miles handed them each a potion, watching as the revitalizing liquid gave them just enough strength to stand and move.

Howard gave him a nod of gratitude. “Thanks, Miles. We owe you.”

“No time for thanks!” Miles panted. “Damian and Astrid need us—now!”

Howard’s men exchanged uneasy glances, their expressions hardening. One soldier, Garcia, gritted his teeth. “We’ll help. Those bastards deserve payback for what they did to us.”

“Good,” Miles said, pulling them to their feet. “Grab whatever weapons you can. Let’s move.”

The group quickly scavenged the surrounding area, picking up goblin spears, rusted swords, and crude shields. Their equipment was subpar, but it would have to do. As they prepared to move out, Howard stopped, pointing to a nearby crate.

“There’s someone in there,” he said. “We need to get them out before we leave.”

Miles glanced at the crate and then at the battlefield beyond. Time was slipping away. “We can’t right now,” he said, his voice tight with urgency. “We’ll come back after we finish this. If we don’t take out the bosses, no one’s getting out of here alive.”

From inside the crate, a muffled voice called out. “Don’t worry about me! I’m not going anywhere. Just—just don’t die, okay? I’ll be here.”

Miles hesitated but nodded. “We’ll come back for you. I promise.”

With that, the group sprinted back toward the battlefield, their hearts pounding.

When they arrived, the sight before them stopped them in their tracks.

Damian was surrounded by a storm of lightning, his body crackling with energy as he charged the goblin lord. The massive creature swung its club with devastating force, its bloodlust visible in its glowing red eyes. Nearby, Astrid lay crumpled on the ground, motionless.

“Astrid!” Miles screamed, his voice breaking. He ran to her, sliding to his knees and cradling her limp body.

“Come on, come on!” he pleaded, pouring a potion into her mouth. The liquid trickled down, but there was no response. “Astrid, wake up! Please!”

His hands trembled as he checked for a pulse, but he couldn’t find one. Panic surged through him as he grabbed another potion, pouring it desperately. Still nothing.

Tears blurred his vision. “No, no, no. This can’t be happening!” His mind raced, and he remembered Damian’s Heal skill. It was their only chance.

Miles looked up at the battlefield. Damian was locked in a brutal clash with the goblin lord, his sword clashing against the monster’s massive club. Blood dripped from dozens of wounds on his body, his regeneration barely keeping him standing.

“Howard!” Miles yelled. “Help Damian! I’ll deal with the mage!”

Howard nodded, rallying his team. “You heard him! Let’s go!”

Miles turned his focus to the goblin mage. It raised its staff, a fireball forming at the tip, aimed straight at him.

“Not today!” Miles roared, activating Power Strike. He dashed forward, smashing the staff into splinters and sending the mage flying. Before it could recover, he swung again, crushing its skull with a sickening crunch.

Meanwhile, Damian was struggling against the goblin lord. Each swing of its club felt like an earthquake, shaking him to his core. His mana reserves were almost empty, and his movements were slowing. He gritted his teeth, refusing to fall.

“This ends now,” Damian growled, though his body screamed in protest.

Suddenly, gunshots rang out. Startled, Damian and the goblin lord turned to see a group of rescue soldiers firing from the edge of the battlefield. Though their bullets barely pierced the goblin lord’s thick skin, the distraction was enough.

“Now’s your chance!” Howard yelled.

With a roar of determination, Damian surged forward, lightning sparking faintly around his blade. He dodged the goblin lord’s swing and drove his sword into its chest. The creature howled, but Damian didn’t stop. He pulled the blade free and slashed again. And again.

The goblin lord fell to its knees, and Damian, consumed by fury and exhaustion, raised his sword one last time, plunging it into the monster’s skull. The battlefield went silent as the massive creature collapsed, its body twitching before going still.

Everyone stared in stunned silence as Damian stood over the goblin lord’s lifeless body. His sword was coated in blood, his clothes torn and soaked red. Lightning crackled faintly around him, and his breathing was ragged.

Miles ran to him, his voice shaking. “Damian, are

you okay?

Damian didn’t answer, the sight filled him with anger leaving everyone in awe and horror.