The Spellsword

The moment Roger saw the flaming sword in the goblin's hand, he knew this one could not be allowed to live.

A goblin capable of enchanting its weapon was far more dangerous than any elite warrior they had encountered before.

Elite warriors only possessed brute strength and thick hides, but a spellsword meant the enemy had mastered a combat style that combined mana with martial techniques.

The goblin spellsword gestured forward with its left hand. The grunts behind it immediately split into two groups, flanking to the left and right in an attempt to encircle him.

Roger did not stand his ground and wait for them to close in. Activating Windwalk, he leapt backward, pulling the Lightburst Crystal from his system inventory. At the same time, he shut his eyes tight, switching to Scout's Eye to monitor the battlefield.

Immediately after, the crystal drew a low, flat arc through the air, smashing onto the ground in front of the spellsword. A blinding flash of white light erupted in the clearing.

The grunts dropped their weapons, clutching their eyes as they stumbled around blindly, letting out garbled, raspy shrieks. The spellsword also hurriedly covered its eyes with its arm, a protective shield manifesting in front of it.

With his eyes still closed, Roger used the top-down perspective of Scout's Eye to fire several Fireballs in rapid succession at the goblin grunts.

As the goblin grunts were engulfed in flames, the system notification chimed once more:

“Points +700, total balance 3,570.”

As the blinding flash dissipated, Roger activated Weakness Detection. The world in his vision instantly transformed.

A red point of light flared in the gap between the spellsword's chestplate and gorget—a slit less than two fingers wide.

He drew his bowstring to its limit and released.

Enveloped in a miniature gale, the arrow tore through the air, pierced the shield, and struck precisely through the gap, embedding itself just beneath the spellsword's collarbone.

The spellsword let out a roar of agony. It swung its weapon, sending a Flame Slash flying toward Roger.

The fiery blade of energy dragged a scorching trail through the air. Wherever it passed, the dry grass instantly ignited, leaving a charred, burning path on the ground.

Roger lunged to the right, rolling flush against the ground. The sword qi swept right over him, followed by the crisp crack of a tree trunk splitting behind him.

A nearby tree had been sliced diagonally, leaving a charred gash with flames licking at the edges.

Roger sprang back up, pushing off the ground with one hand. By then, several grunts had already recovered from the flash. They picked up their shields, re-formed a loose shield wall, and steadily closed in on his position.

Roger stowed his Windwood Bow and fired several Fireballs in rapid succession. In the next instant, the grunts were reduced to charred corpses.

However, the spellsword had used this brief window to close the distance. Light blue mana runes rippled across its legs; a distance of over a dozen paces was closed to less than five in the blink of an eye.

Roger activated Iron Wall while drawing his Fine Steel Sword to parry. The two blades clashed violently in midair, showering sparks and fragments of light.

The force of the collision deflected the spellsword's blade upward, leaving its chest defense temporarily wide open.

Under Weakness Detection, a second red dot flared on its left chest armor.

Roger had already condensed a second Chain Lightning, blasting it directly into the spellsword's exposed chest.

Blue-white electrical arcs erupted across its body, making its runic armor crackle and pop. The spellsword was blown back several paces, only managing to steady itself by thrusting its flaming sword into the ground.

The Arcane Hand materialized out of thin air, taking the Fine Steel Sword from Roger's hand. Roger grabbed his Windwood Bow again, drawing back for an Empowered Shot. The arrow locked onto the heavily cracked chestplate.

The bowstring twanged, and the arrow pierced through the shattered armor, burying itself entirely in the spellsword's chest cavity.

The spellsword's body stiffened violently. The flaming sword slipped from its loosening fingers, its flames extinguishing before it even hit the ground. It fell to its knees, then collapsed forward, motionless.

“Points +450, total balance 4,020.”

Roger stepped forward, picked up the sword dropped by the spellsword, and stored it in his system inventory.

Just then, the hurried sound of footsteps and clashing metal echoed from behind. Roger glanced back to see Stine and Artley leading their respective forces toward him.

At the same time, more goblins were closing in from the surrounding area.

Stine was the first to reach Roger. He glanced at the spellsword's corpse, then at Roger, before giving a brief hand signal to the retainers behind him.

The retainers immediately fanned out, forming a defensive semi-circle around Roger.

Artley charged ahead with the mercenaries of the Golden Falcon Group, cutting down the approaching goblins. Advancing like a human battering ram, she quickly reached the wooden stake barricades on the outskirts of the clearing.

Two crossed logs blocked her path. She raised her battleaxe high above her head. A dense white light flared on the blade as she brought it down, shearing through both logs and sending wood chips flying.

Kicking the broken wood aside, she raised her battleaxe again and chopped at the next joint.

Steinbeck spread his skirmishers along the flanks. They poured fire on the goblins behind the cover using javelins and light crossbows, projectiles crisscrossing in the air.

The goblins on the watchtowers tried to return fire with their crossbows, but the skirmishers kept moving constantly, firing once and immediately relocating to deny them time to aim.

Meanwhile, Artley hacked through yet another stake, forcibly tearing open a path leading straight to the center of the clearing. Leaning on her battleaxe at the entrance of the path, she turned and roared toward Stine:

“The path is open! Now!”

Stine had been waiting for those words. He pointed his sword toward the opening: “Forward!”

The Raymond family soldiers began to advance steadily through the breached path, pushing right into the center of the defensive line.

Stine personally held the front of the shield wall, his sword swinging repeatedly in close quarters, cleaving every goblin that tried to breach their line.

Several elite goblins rushed out from behind cover to attack him, but before they could reach Stine, several extraordinary warriors from the Golden Falcon Group intercepted them from the flanks.

Greatswords and maces clashed violently. The extraordinary warriors and elite goblins locked in fierce duels, carving out several isolated skirmishes across the clearing.

Irene and a few light infantrymen from the Golden Falcon Group flanked around the right side of the shield wall. Capitalizing on the chaos caused by Artley's breakthrough, they slipped between the covers to strike the rear flank of the goblin line.

Irene's straight sword flashed behind a barricade. Before a grunt could react, her blade pierced the back of its neck.

The Golden Falcon light infantry followed close behind, their shortswords and daggers darting in and out as they harvested the goblins still focused on the frontal defense.

The sudden assault from the rear threw the goblin defense line into disarray. The crossbowmen on the watchtowers were forced to split their attention to deal with these new threats, which eased the pressure on the front line.

Roger turned his attention back to the crossbowmen on the watchtowers. Drawing his Windwood Bow, he picked them off one by one.

Once all the goblin crossbowmen were dealt with, Steinbeck immediately led his skirmishers to storm the watchtowers.

They scaled the structures quickly, tossing the goblin corpses off the platforms, and began raining javelins and crossbow bolts down on the remaining goblin forces putting up a desperate struggle below.

Roger's gaze shifted to the cave entrance, where the remaining elite goblins and grunts were regrouping.

An elite warrior wearing a bone helmet, seemingly their leader, was shrieking loudly in an attempt to organize a final line of defense before the lair entrance.

Roger gave them no such chance. He raised his hand and cast Chain Lightning, striking the elite warrior dead in the chest.

The blue-white electrical arcs leaped wildly through the dense formation. By the time the lightning faded, more than half of the grunts had collapsed.

The human soldiers arrived a moment later and surged forward, skewering the remaining helpless goblins one by one. The last few elite warriors brandished their broadswords, launching a desperate final charge at the advancing humans.

Artley met them head-on with her battleaxe, the Golden Falcon extraordinary warriors close behind her. They engaged the remaining elites in a chaotic melee right before the cave entrance.

Axes and broadswords clashed violently, sending sparks flying with every strike.

Meanwhile, the human soldiers continued their steady advance, splitting the surviving goblins into two isolated pockets to prevent them from supporting one another.

By the time the sun reached its peak in the sky, the last goblin fell.

Artley pulled her battleaxe from the corpse of the final elite warrior. She wiped the sweat and blood from her face with her sleeve and looked up at the sky.

The midday sun shone directly down onto the clearing.