Early the next morning, as dawn was just breaking outside the cave, Stine called over a retainer and stuffed a roll of parchment into his hand.
The parchment detailed the entire battle situation from when they entered the mountains the previous day until they reached the cave, along with the Golden Falcon Group's intelligence and suggestions.
“Deliver this letter to the camp at the foot of the mountain and hand it to Lord Raymond personally. If he is not in camp, give it to his chief retainer. Do not let it pass through anyone else's hands,” Stine ordered.
The retainer took the parchment, tucked it inside his breastplate, and gave a brief salute. Accompanied by three others, he turned and headed down the mountain, their figures quickly vanishing down the path.
Roger stood at the cave entrance, watching the retainer leave. He then withdrew his gaze and stuffed the last bite of his rations into his mouth.
A night of meditation had restored his mana to near full, and most of the soreness in his arms had faded.
He stretched his shoulders, turned back into the cave, and found a relatively secluded spot in a corner. Leaning against the stone wall, he opened the system mall.
This time, he switched directly to the magic items category. His finger swiped quickly through the list before stopping on a specific entry.
【Name: Lightburst Crystal
Quality: Common
Description: Upon being thrown, the crystal releases a high-intensity flash. Any creature looking in the direction of the crystal will be temporarily blinded. The duration of the blindness depends on the target's constitution and distance, up to a maximum of five seconds. This crystal is a single-use consumable and becomes useless after activation.
Cost: 400 Points】
This item reminded Roger of the dread of being dominated by flashbangs in shooter games before his transmigration...
“Points -400, remaining balance 2,750.”
A palm-sized crystal cylinder appeared in Roger's hand, its surface faintly showing rings of intricate runic engravings.
He placed the crystal into his system inventory.
The reason he didn't exchange for any more skills was that he already had enough of them; getting more would leave him with no extra energy to master them.
Ten minutes later, the Raymond family's forces had assembled outside the cave, and the mercenaries of the Golden Falcon Group had also lined up.
The latter's formation was much looser than that of the noble private soldiers, with each mercenary spaced two or three paces apart. This was clearly a skirmish formation designed for individual combat while still allowing rapid mutual support when needed.
Stine nodded to Artley. The two leaders had no need for redundant conversation; they had already discussed everything that needed to be discussed by the campfire last night.
Today's mission was clear: continue advancing up the ridge, reach the outskirts of the main nest's defensive positions, gauge the actual depth of their defense line and the distribution of watchtowers, and then decide where to break through.
The two teams maintained a proper distance and began their joint advance.
After leaving the cave, the mountain path ahead narrowed into a canyon-like corridor sandwiched between steep rock walls on both sides.
Where the path was wide, it could accommodate five or six people walking side by side; where it was narrow, only two or three could pass sideways.
Roger remained in the middle of the Raymond family's unit, keeping a few paces away from Irene. He had activated his Scout's Eye upon departure, and a top-down view with a fifteen-meter radius constantly played in his mind.
For the moment, no grayish-green figures appeared on the rock walls of the canyon, but experience told him that such silence usually meant the enemy was lying in ambush further ahead.
Once they cleared the canyon, the terrain opened up again.
Steinbeck raised his fist in the air, signaling the unit to halt.
Stine and Artley walked to the front of the line together, their expressions turning serious at the same time.
The entrance to the goblin main nest appeared at the end of their line of sight.
Stine sent someone ahead to scout. When the scout returned, he described the state of the nest to everyone.
It was a naturally formed cavern, wide enough for six or seven people to enter side by side.
On either side of the entrance stood a row of wooden watchtowers. They were about two stories tall, constructed from thick logs and iron nails. On the platforms at the top, several crossbowmen could be seen pacing back and forth.
All trees within a hundred meters of the entrance had been cleared away. Wooden stakes were arranged in a crisscrossing, zigzag pattern, stretching from the base of the watchtowers to the center of the clearing.
In addition to these stakes, eight wooden bunkers were scattered across the open ground.
Groups of goblin grunts were patrolling back and forth across the clearing.
This was the final outer defense line of the goblin main nest. Crossing this clearing and passing those watchtowers would lead directly to the entrance of their lair.
The depths of the entrance cave were pitch black, showing no light whatsoever, making it impossible to judge the direction or depth of the internal passages.
Stine knelt on one knee behind a boulder, with Artley crouching beside him.
The two leaders exchanged a few brief assessments in hushed tones. Then Stine turned around, dispatched another messenger down the mountain to report the situation, and gestured for the rest of the troops to remain on standby.
“Trying to push through this with sheer numbers alone is definitely not going to work,” Roger thought to himself after listening to the scout's report nearby.
“Someone is definitely directing these goblins from behind the scenes. It must have taken a lot of time to set up this defense line,” Irene's voice drifted over from beside him.
“And whoever is pulling the strings might just be inside that cave, cooking up something nasty for us.”
Not long after Roger finished speaking, a retainer walked over and explained his purpose:
“Sir Roger, Knight Stine requests your presence.”
Roger nodded and walked over to Stine and Artley.
Wasting no words, Stine pointed toward the two watchtowers in the distance.
“Can your arrows reach the crossbowmen on those watchtowers?”
Roger roughly estimated the distance, angle, and wind direction, then nodded.
“I can hit them, but there are at least a dozen crossbowmen up there. If I don't kill them in one shot, they'll lock onto my position immediately.”
Stine glanced at Artley. The two exchanged a look, and then he turned back to Roger.
“I'll leave those crossbowmen to you then. Take them out one by one. If the goblins chase after you, lure them back here.”
Nodding once more, Roger crouched low and used the cover of the trees to slip toward the goblin defense line.
As he neared the edge of the clearing, Roger hid behind a tree and nocked an arrow. Then, leaning out slightly, he aimed at a goblin crossbowman on one of the watchtowers.
With a soft twang of the bowstring, the crossbowman fell.
“Points +50, total balance 2,820.”
The moment the system notification rang, Roger immediately shifted his position, ducking behind another tree.
A raspy, uniquely goblin screech echoed from the direction of the nest as the patrolling grunts were mobilized. Raising their spears and wooden shields, they formed a semi-circle and cautiously approached the direction from which the arrow had been shot.
Roger peeked half his head out from his new cover and quickly scanned the watchtowers.
All the crossbowmen on the watchtowers were now on high alert. Resting their crossbows on the railings, they searched for his new location.
Roger held his breath, leaned out from the other side of the tree trunk, and drew his bowstring to its limit. A second arrow flew, striking another crossbowman dead in the chest.
“Points +50, total balance 2,870.”
Roger ducked back behind the tree without hesitation as a rapid succession of thuds echoed around him, crossbow bolts embedding themselves into the wood.
Once the crossbowmen's volley ceased, he quickly moved behind a third tree, casting a sidelong glance toward the goblins.
Then, his eyes caught sight of a figure that didn't seem quite right.
A second patrol was already closing in from the center of the clearing. The leading goblin was a head taller than the average grunt, wielding a silver longsword engraved with neat runes.
The goblin raised its sword, its lips moving rapidly.
In the next second, the runes on the blade lit up one by one, and orange-red flames spread from the hilt to the tip, turning the entire sword into a blazing torch in its hand.
Seeing this scene, Roger was dumbfounded.
“What in the world... a goblin spellsword?”
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