The goblin stood over a stone pot, stirring it continuously with a wooden stick.
Inside the pot simmered a thick, unidentifiable concoction—visible ingredients included wheat grains, berries, grass seeds, beetles, fat green worms, and more.
As the fire heated the mixture, strange chemical reactions gave rise to an odd, pungent smell that drifted up with the smoke.
But the goblin inhaled deeply, as if it were the aroma of a gourmet feast, and its face twisted into an expression of delight.
Though goblins had small brains and simple minds, they still understood the importance of fire.
By keeping their hearths lit, their tribes could always cook and survive the cold winters more comfortably.
If the fire ever went out, they’d be forced to steal flames from human villages—an annoyingly risky task.
At the thought of humans, drool began to leak uncontrollably from the goblin’s lips.
Looking at the mixture in the pot again, it suddenly didn’t seem so appetizing.
But then, another memory surfaced—one that occupied a significant portion of its tiny brain.
A scene of tall humans, wielding shining blades, mercilessly wiping out its former tribe. Goblins had fallen one after another amidst blood and steel.
Faced with those terrifying demon-like figures and their cold crossbows, it had cowered in fear—then fled, along with a few other survivors, deep into the forest.
They didn’t know how far they had run—only that they eventually settled here.
Through the efforts of the survivors, under constant threat from the wilds, the goblins slowly rebuilt their numbers.
Although the new generation was skinny and small—born of weakened mothers—if they could keep going , one day they’d feast on meat again.
Imagining those better days, the goblin’s gaping mouth stretched all the way to its ears, exposing thick, yellow, crooked teeth. Its face, already hideous, twisted further with excitement.
The goblin at the fire looked up to see a green-skinned figure rushing toward it.
It relaxed slightly after confirming it was another goblin—not some foreign intruder.
But the panicked cries from its companion immediately put it back on edge.
The words coming from its fellow’s mouth clearly meant “human.”
Following its companion’s pointing finger, the goblin saw a tall figure stepping leisurely over fallen leaves.
Sunlight spilled behind him, and with each step, a suffocating pressure grew stronger, stabbing into the goblin’s mind.
That tall figure triggered its worst nightmare.
Its thin, trembling legs buckled involuntarily.
A glowing blue orb was the last thing the goblin saw.
The missile crashed into its chest, sending it flying several meters.
Gauss lowered his bone staff.
[Total Monster Kills: 83]
He looked down at the goblin, clearly larger than its kin. Its eyes were vacant. Dead.
Assuming this had been the leader, he turned his gaze toward the cave.
Gauss didn’t like wasting time—take out the boss first. Always.
In goblin tribes, leadership was everything.
Without a leader, they were a disorganized mess. But with a hobgoblin or greater at the helm, they could wipe out entire villages. Serve under a dragon? They’d become fearless warriors.
Nearby, the goblin that had unknowingly led Gauss here stared in shock at its exploded comrade.
It hadn’t expected the terrifying human to follow it so sneakily.
Just as it opened its mouth to warn the others inside—
Gauss’s rapier cut through its throat before it could utter a sound.
[Total Monster Kills: 84]
Gauss flicked the blood off his blade with a practiced flourish.
Practice makes perfect.
He was getting better at this—goblin killing was becoming routine.
A lone goblin didn’t stand a chance against him.
Swordsmanship Lvl.1 (8/10).
Goblin Hunter title and its Bane Effects.
It all added up. He was a goblin-killing machine now.
He glanced at the monster compendium. The goblin icon now had a “45” in the corner.
That meant 45 goblins had fallen to him.
But that was still nothing.
Compared to the goblin swarms lurking across the wilderness, 45 was a drop in the ocean.
Still, as long as he kept growing stronger, that number would only increase. And hey, it’s not like the Goblin Protection Society existed in this world. No one was going to call him out for genocide.
Gauss walked up to the cave entrance.
It was a low one—barely 1.4 meters tall.
He summoned Mage Hand, materializing it just ahead of him.
He stuffed a ball-shaped item into its grasp and sent it into the cave.
Due to the range limit, he eventually had to crouch and enter the cave himself to maintain control.
As soon as he heard signs of goblins deeper inside, he stopped.
Using a match, Mage Hand lit the Stinkball.
Flames wrapped the ball. Thick black smoke rose instantly, along with an overwhelming stench.
A noxious cloud hissed out from the ball’s many holes—like a smelly smoke bomb filling the cave.
Gauss slipped back out.
The Stinkball was more effective the deeper it went—but its effect was short-lived. It had to be ignited inside the cave to avoid premature extinguishing.
He’d found the item at a general store. No teammates meant relying on magic and gear.
Its only downside: it cost 1 silver each.
Still, it was worth it.
Soon enough, the stench drove the goblins out.
Gasping for air, they rushed outside.
But as they stumbled into the daylight, a shadow was already upon them.
Steel sliced through flesh like tofu.
Empowered by the Bane buff, Gauss’s rapier carved down goblins one by one.
Some tried to fight back, but claws and clubs bounced harmlessly off his invisible Mage Armor.
Gauss ended the last one, then exhaled slowly.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one sneaky goblin tiptoeing behind him, trying to escape unnoticed.
“Crafty little runt.”
Magic Missile answered.
The goblin collapsed with a bitter shriek.
[Total Monster Kills: 89]
[Goblin Total Kills: 50]
Something had changed in him—something subtle, but undeniable.