“Before this, I had only heard of this kind of thing from Baron Raymond. According to the Baron, it's a spellcasting material commonly used by cultists.”
Roger did not respond, only nodding. For the time being, he had no intention of sharing the details mentioned on the appraisal panel with anyone.
Under the circumstances where he couldn't yet fully trust the other party, it was better not to easily disclose this kind of information.
Roger pretended to reach into his pocket, exchanged for a glass bottle in the system shop, and then took it out in front of Irene to put all the purple ash into the bottle.
The nominal purpose of entering the forest this time was scouting. Now that they had found traces left by cultist activity, bringing the ash back for Baron Raymond to inspect could be considered fulfilling the word “scouting.”
However, Roger did not plan to head back just yet. There were still large areas of this forest that hadn't been explored, and going back now would be too much of a waste of this trip.
“There's probably nothing else of note around here.” He put the glass bottle into his pocket and tilted his head toward the depths of the forest. “Let's keep going forward and have a look.”
As the two continued deeper, the sunlight filtering into the forest became scarcer. The gaps between the trees also grew narrower, with thick trunks squeezed together, requiring them to turn sideways in some places to pass between them.
The two had no choice but to slightly close the distance between themselves to avoid being unable to support each other in time if something happened.
However, Roger didn't feel too tense despite the oppressive environment. As a Rank Four extraordinary warrior, Irene wouldn't have to expend much effort even if she chopped down all the trees here.
Just as he was about to look down to see if there were any herbs growing on the ground, a commotion suddenly came from deep within the dense forest ahead.
Roger and Irene exchanged a glance for less than a second, then rushed toward the direction of the sound one after the other.
After passing through a dense patch of bushes, the scene ahead suddenly opened up.
In a forest clearing, Sargon and Matilda were in the middle of a messy battlefield, with several goblin corpses scattered around the clearing.
Sargon was lying on the ground, a charred hole blasted through his chainmail, from which blood was slowly and continuously seeping.
Matilda crouched beside him, hurriedly retrieving a red healing potion from the leather pouch at her waist, aiming the mouth of the bottle at the wound on Sargon's chest to pour it down.
Only after Matilda had finished pouring the potion and crudely bandaged the wound with some bandages did Irene step forward to ask:
“What happened?”
Matilda looked up, making eye contact with Irene. “We encountered a goblin patrol just now. To protect me, Mr. Sargon was hit in the chest by a spell from one of the goblin spellcasters.”
“Roughly how many goblins were there? Which direction did they come from?” Roger crouched down, checking Sargon's injuries while asking.
Matilda raised her hand to point ahead, which happened to be the very area the two of them had originally planned to explore further:
“They came from over there, at least a dozen of them. They suddenly rushed out of the bushes, and we were surrounded before we could react.”
Roger did a quick calculation in his mind.
A dozen or so goblins, including at least one spellcaster of a decent level, could severely injure a fully equipped, experienced wandering knight.
This composition didn't look like a normal patrol; it was more like a small elite force sent out from a goblin nest to execute some kind of mission, and Sargon and Matilda had simply run into them.
“Perhaps we should take the wounded back first,” Irene suggested.
Roger thought about it and decided to accept her suggestion for now. He and Matilda helped up the unconscious Sargon and walked back the way they came.
But on the way back, a question popped up in his mind.
Judging from the situation at the scene, the goblin side had a clear advantage in both numbers and strength, while there was only one knight and one mage on this side.
With superior numbers and combat power, they were fully capable of surrounding and killing these two humans in that clearing.
Yet they retreated right after knocking Sargon down, without pursuing Matilda or staying to deliver a finishing blow. This didn't make sense. It couldn't be that the goblins had suddenly developed a kind heart.
Roger planned to return to search this area after sending the wounded back.
Nothing happened along the way.
After delivering Sargon to Baron Barton, the two returned to Baron Raymond's camp just past noon.
They went straight to the Baron's tent and reported everything in detail: finding the purple ash in the forest, encountering the elite goblin patrol, and Sargon getting injured.
Roger placed the glass bottle containing the ash on the Baron's desk for him to inspect.
Baron Raymond picked up the glass bottle, scrutinized it against the light outside for a moment, asked the two of them a few more details, and then nodded. “I see. Your mission is complete. You may go back and rest.”
After Roger and Irene left the tent, Baron Raymond immediately summoned a messenger.
“Go to Baron Barton and tell him I'd like to invite him to discuss important matters.”
...
Roger returned to his tent and sat down on his bedding.
Having taken a trip into the forest, there wasn't actually much loot. He opened the system storage, took a glance, then switched to the shop page and typed “Alchemy” into the search bar.
Clicking search, the screen displayed:
【Name: Alchemy Specialization
Description: Upon learning, automatically master the basic theoretical knowledge of alchemy, including the identification of common materials, basic potion recipes, and the operation of simple alchemy tools. The higher the level, the deeper the understanding of the field of alchemy, unlocking more advanced recipes and refining techniques.
Level Cap: Lv10
Learning Conditions: None
Exchange Points: 600】
“It's not that expensive, but my points are insufficient.”
Glancing at the 300 points displayed in the point column, Roger closed the shop and stood up from his bedding.
If points were insufficient, then he would go earn more.
Now that he was acting alone, as long as he didn't walk into the deepest part of the forest and alarm that elite goblin patrol, it shouldn't be a big problem.
Moreover, why the goblins had let Sargon and Matilda go was also a lingering doubt in his heart.
Taking advantage of the fact that no one was bothering him, Roger lifted the tent flap and left the camp alone.
The forest was still the same forest, no different from when he had left.
Not long after he arrived, a sound came from ahead. Roger immediately crouched down, using a waist-high bush as cover, and crept toward the source of the sound.
Through the gaps in the leaves of the bush, he saw the source of the sound.
A small squad of goblins was walking through the forest in a loose formation, conversing with each other in harsh, raspy voices.
Roger did not act rashly, first carefully observing the scale and equipment of this squad of goblins.
He took a closer look at their gear.
There were ten goblins in total, each holding a short spear in their hands, the tips of which were sharpened iron or bone pieces. They only wore a few tattered rags around their bodies, and some were even bare-chested.
There were no spellcasters, and no particularly large warrior variants; they were just ten ordinary goblin grunts, as common as they could be.
“I can take them,” Roger quickly made a judgment in his mind.
With a grunt squad of this size, he could completely kite them to death with his current strength. The only thing he needed to watch out for was getting surrounded.
Roger lowered his body and circled behind a thick old tree. Leaning against the rough bark, he began to cast his spell.
The Rune Ring glowed red. Stepping out from behind the tree, he sent a fireball hurtling toward the goblins.
The fireball drew a red arc in the air, accurately hitting the goblin right in the middle of the group. Accompanied by an explosion, this goblin was engulfed by flames before it even had time to scream.
“Points +50, total 350.”
“Hmm? Did it increase?” Roger noticed this.
Before, killing a normal goblin grunt only gave forty points, but now it was fifty. Although it was only ten points more, this increase was very real.
Perhaps the system's determination of base kill points adjusted according to his own level? Or was it that the closer he got to the goblin stronghold, the slightly stronger the goblins he encountered, so the points increased accordingly?
He didn't have time to think about it, because the remaining nine goblins had already turned their heads in unison toward where he was hiding.
Roger did not linger to fight, turning and running immediately. The nine goblins let out harsh shrieks, brandishing their short spears as they gave chase.
After running about thirty meters, Roger suddenly stopped, turned around, and raised his right hand.
A second fireball condensed in front of his palm, then flew out, dragging a bright tail of flame as it slammed directly into the face of the leading goblin.
It let out a sharp, almost tearing scream, frantically slapping its burning head and chest. Flames splashed from its body onto its nearby companions, and their dry, tattered rags were also quickly ignited.
In the blink of an eye, three burning figures were screaming and running wildly, and some of the surrounding vegetation also caught fire.
In his previous life, this kind of action would probably have landed Roger in prison for a long time.
But Roger didn't care. This was another world; there was no satellite monitoring or forest rangers. If it burned, it burned.
If this fire grew larger and burned to death all the other goblins and beasts hiding in this forest, with the kills still counted as his, wouldn't he earn even more points?
He even briefly considered whether to actively spread the fire, but reason told him that once the fire got completely out of control, he might not be able to escape himself, so he abandoned the idea.
The remaining few goblins unaffected by the flames hurriedly scattered to both sides, avoiding their companions who were running around in flames, their screeches becoming even sharper.
They did not pause any longer, chasing after Roger again, but the chaos had already bought Roger enough time and distance.
He fired fireballs while retreating, killing all the remaining goblins.
The few burning goblins also finally stopped moving, turning into charred corpses scattered across the forest floor, the air filled with a nauseating smell of burnt flesh.
“Points +450, total 800.”
“Thinking about it, killing goblins seems quite profitable. A few fireballs can bring in hundreds of points, a guaranteed profit.”
Since his current strength wasn't enough anyway, Roger thought about whether he should just kill goblins for a year or two first, becoming a so-called starting zone sword god.
He bent down, preparing to pick up the short spears scattered on the ground to recycle them for points.
Although these short spears were crude, each could be recycled for thirty to forty points. Ten of them added up to three or four hundred, which was no less than what he made from killing monsters.
But just as his hand touched the first short spear, a new sound came from deep within the dense forest ahead.
Rate on N.U.
