The situation on the other side of the battlefield had gone critical.
Though four goblin corpses already lay scattered on the ground, Bell—one of the main fighters—was down, writhing and screaming in pain.
His right Achilles tendon had been shredded. The wound was gaping, raw, and grotesque—like it had been carved out.
Mia, gasping for breath, glanced over in alarm.
When she noticed two goblins silently creeping up on Bell, her face drained of color. She tried to push forward to intercept them.
But standing in her way was something far worse.
It was a goblin—but unlike the rest, it was massive.
At nearly two meters tall, it towered over its kin. Muscular, thick-boned, its face twisted with bestial malice. It bared sharp fangs beneath a crooked snarl.
It wielded a large, crude black iron cleaver and wore a patchy, ill-fitting set of leather armor—clumsy but effective.
If the smaller goblins were cannon fodder, this one was clearly their elite commander.
Its larger size, stronger physique, and slightly better gear made it a serious threat—especially against low-level adventurers.
The brute swung its blade with savage force.
The cleaver tore through the air with a bone-chilling howl.
Mia had no time to think. She brought up both daggers in a desperate block.
Sparks burst in the dark.
The sheer impact launched her backward.
Gauss saw it all—and panic hit.
Mia, with her dual daggers and lightweight frame, clearly leaned toward a rogue or scout-type class—one focused on agility and stealth, not raw power.
She was no match for that thing in a head-on clash.
Especially now, when she was rattled and emotionally thrown off while trying to protect Bell.
“What the hell?! The mission said just regular goblins!” Gauss cursed silently.
He recalled from memory: in this world, among hordes of goblins, there were rare elite variants—like Hobgoblins, Goblin Shamans, or even Two-Headed Goblins.
They were uncommon—but clearly not a myth.
This brute was probably a Hobgoblin-in-training. Whether it had been hiding in the darkness earlier or emerged from the cave mid-battle, Gauss didn’t know.
What he did know was that it outclassed the others completely.
To a seasoned adventurer, this thing might be just another kill.
But for rookies like them? It was a team-killer.
And under its command, the goblins fought harder, faster, more coordinated.
Three were still tying up the villagers. Two circled Bell like predators ready to strike.
The brute kept Mia on lockdown.
And she wasn’t holding out because of strength—it was likely because that thing wanted her alive.
Gauss took it all in. His brain fired like a machine gun.
Mia and the villagers were pinned. Bell was incapacitated. And the two goblins near him were waiting for him to drop his guard before going in for the kill.
If Bell went down, the goblins would swarm everyone else—and this mission would be over.
Gauss staggered to his feet.
If they lost that side of the fight, he and Hailier would be next.
But as soon as he stood, a wave of dizziness hit him like a brick. The world spun. His legs wobbled.
It felt like low blood sugar after a marathon.
His body screamed at him to rest.
But this wasn’t just physical fatigue.
That pseudo “bullet-time” state he’d entered earlier had taken a massive toll. While it gave him incredible reaction speed, his body hadn’t been able to keep up.
And now—he was paying the price.
His legs felt like lead. Every step sent a wave of soreness through his bones. His shallow cuts rubbed against torn cloth, stinging like fire.
He was worse off than he’d realized.
His muscles twitched and trembled like they were trying to convince him to just lie down.
Across the field, Mia struggled to rise. She saw Gauss barely able to stand.
Her last shred of hope collapsed.
She herself was nearly tapped out. Multiple Thrust skills had strained her arms and legs.
The hobgoblin didn’t give her a break. It rushed in, cleaver swinging in wide arcs.
Each strike rocked Mia’s arms. She gritted her teeth, hands shaking, daggers barely holding.
Gauss took a deep breath.
Everyone was on the edge.
But this fight wasn’t lost yet.
Not if they went all in.
He turned his eyes toward Hailier—still perched in the trees, exhausted but alert.
They were in this together now.
“Hailier! Just one more shot!
Give me another opening!”
His body might’ve been shaking—but his emerald eyes were solid.
The determination behind them seemed to reach her.
She didn’t ask why. She didn’t need to.
Even if they’d only been teammates for a couple of days—
Gauss had already earned her trust.
She inhaled deeply, trying to steady her breathing. Sweat drenched her forehead, her chestnut hair stuck to her skin.
With trembling arms, she reached for another arrow.
She didn’t have many shots left. And after this, she might not be able to draw her bow again.
But she nodded at Gauss.
Gauss picked up his dagger.
His legs ached like hell, but he forced them to move.
The hobgoblin noticed.
It had basic cognition—about as much as a child. But it couldn’t figure out why this injured human was shambling toward its subordinates.
It turned away, uninterested.
It roared at Mia, growing tired of the struggle—like a kid getting bored of a broken toy.