Chapter 13 | Just How Many Skills Do You Have?

Once through the breach, the interior of the castle was laid bare.

On the open ground in front of the castle's main building, humans and goblins had already clashed in a chaotic melee. The clashing of metal, battle cries, and agonized screams intertwined, making it impossible to tell which side they came from.

Compared to the rusty, tetanus-inducing blades wielded by most goblins, the weapons of the human soldiers were also exceptionally crude, offering almost no advantage.

However, relying on the few warriors who had channeled their Life Energy, the humans managed to maintain their offensive momentum. These extraordinary warriors charged at the very front of the vanguard, their every swing tearing through the defensive lines of two or three goblins.

Roger stuck to his previous strategy. He didn't draw his sword to confront these green-skinned bastards head-on, choosing instead to stand on the periphery and pick them off with his bow.

“Points +200, Total: 732.”

Roger loosed five arrows in rapid succession, each one claiming a life. With another 200 points secured, the battle on the castle grounds gradually drew to a close.

Stine decapitated the last resisting goblin with a single sweep of his sword. He looked around to confirm the area was clear of enemies, then raised his arm and gestured toward the main building's entrance.

The human army surged into the main building.

Unlike the soldiers who were eager to claim glory, Roger remained at a distance, trailing far behind.

After all, since the start of the assault, the humans hadn't encountered any significant resistance aside from that goblin mage.

This gave him a nagging feeling that something was wrong. If the goblins had been able to hold Fort Morris for so long, this couldn't be all they had.

If standard novel and game tropes were any indication, such smooth progress usually meant the real trouble was still to come.

“It's probably going to be a boss fight next...”

Roger's mutterings were drowned out by a sudden chorus of screams from up ahead.

The soldiers at the very front suddenly ground to a halt and began retreating, while those behind them, ignorant of the situation, kept pushing forward. The two waves of people jostled and trampled over one another.

The once high-spirited vanguard was thrown into utter chaos in the blink of an eye.

Having prepared himself for this, Roger immediately sidestepped out of the way the moment the crowd began to panic, distancing himself from the flow of the stampede.

Looking around for high ground, he quickly spotted a half-meter-high stone pedestal just behind the side of the portico. He stepped onto its edge and pulled himself up, casting his gaze over the chaotic crowd and deep into the main hall.

The sight inside the main hall made him gasp.

A goblin stood right in the center of the hall.

It was a full size larger than any goblin Roger had ever seen, standing nearly as tall as an adult human. Its bare upper body was covered in crisscrossing old scars and twisted tattoos, which shared the exact same patterns as the bone chain.

Clutched in its hands was a massive broadsword, its blade etched with the same twisted patterns as the tattoos, pulsing with a faint, dark purple glow.

Stine, Irene, and two other human knights charged into the main building against the retreating crowd, immediately engaging the creature.

The four of them attacked simultaneously from four different directions, their sword light weaving into a tight net. Yet, the goblin wielded its terrifying broadsword with unnatural strength and speed, effortlessly parrying and slashing.

Purple light flowed along the blade, sending dark purple sparks flying every time it clashed with the human swords.

Is there really a boss? And it's wielding some kind of legendary dragon-slaying blade? Roger stared at the size of the sword and the purple light swirling around it, estimating that this goblin's level was definitely not low.

To hold its own against four extraordinary warriors—including a veteran like Stine and a Rank Four like Irene—its strength had to be at least Rank Three.

The stone pedestal wasn't high enough, and just as he was about to look for a better shooting position, Stine's voice rang out from the fray, seemingly confirming his assessment:

“This guy is roughly at Rank Three! It won't hold out against our coordinated attack!”

Roger hesitated no longer. He pulled a poison arrow from his quiver, nocked it, and aimed at the goblin's bulky frame.

Unlike the mage on the tower, this goblin was much larger, making it a far easier target to hit.

Roger channeled his Life Energy into the arrow, condensing a white vortex around the arrowhead. He waited for a brief moment, releasing the string the exact second the goblin parried Stine's heavy overhead slash and lost its balance.

The poison arrow, enveloped in the white vortex, tore through the air. Yet, as if it had eyes in the back of its head, the goblin spun around abruptly.

The massive broadsword seemed impossibly light in its hands. With a swift sweep, it blocked the arrow head-on. The moment the arrowhead collided with the blade, purple and white light exploded simultaneously with a sharp crack.

The instant the goblin turned to block the arrow, its back was exposed to the other three.

Stine, Irene, and the other knight struck at the same time, their three swords slashing toward the goblin's back and flank from three different angles.

Forced to hastily turn back and defend, the goblin was driven back by their relentless, rotating slashes, each of its heavy steps thudding against the stone floor.

But at that moment, the purple patterns on the broadsword suddenly flared with blinding light.

Using this explosive force, the goblin unleashed a backhand sweep. The blade tore through the air, drawing a dark purple arc.

A knight who was about to thrust from the side couldn't halt his momentum in time. The blade sliced diagonally across his chest. His armor plates tore open like paper as blood erupted. With a muffled groan, he collapsed into a pool of blood, twitching twice before going completely still.

Roger immediately cast Heal on the fallen warrior.

A pale green light shot out from the Rune Ring, flying across half the hall to land on the knight's wound. However, the gash sliced by the blade was too deep and wide; the Heal spell could only slow the gushing blood slightly, failing to pull him back from the brink of death in time.

Roger had no time to check the effectiveness of the spell. His second poison arrow was already nocked, the arrowhead tracking the goblin's movements.

As long as he could graze its skin—even a small cut on its arm—and let the venom seep into its bloodstream, it would slow down its reaction time and weaken its combat capabilities.

In the fray, after forcing the three back, the goblin adjusted its stance and gripped the hilt tightly once more.

The moment its hands shifted positions, its wrist briefly moved away from the hilt.

Roger seized the opening and released his arrow. However, the goblin tilted its body at the very last second, and the arrow only grazed its shoulder, shaving off a tiny piece of flesh and a few drops of blood.

It was merely a graze; the venom might not even penetrate.

“Tsk,” Roger clicked his tongue, his fingers already reaching for a third poison arrow. A mere graze like that probably wouldn't even deliver the poison. He needed a solid hit.

At the same time, the broadsword found another opening.

Twisting its wrist at an angle impossible for a human, the goblin delivered an upward slash. The massive blade sliced into the second knight's abdomen and protruded from his back.

The knight let out a brief, agonized scream, his hands clawing futilely at the blade in an attempt to pull it out. But the goblin had already withdrawn the sword, and his body, losing all support, collapsed heavily to the ground.

A four-on-one fight against a single goblin had resulted in two fallen knights in the blink of an eye, leaving only Stine and Irene.

“And you told me this thing is only Rank Three?” Irene pointed her sword at the goblin, her hand perfectly steady, but the tension in her voice was unmistakable.

Roger realized he couldn't afford to wait any longer.

If Stine and Irene were also taken out, he would definitely be the goblin's next target.

Focusing all his concentration, he drew the bowstring to its limit, nocking his third poison arrow.

Activating 【Empowered Shot】 to its maximum, he channeled his Life Energy into the arrow in unprecedented amounts. The shaft began to vibrate slightly, emitting a barely audible hum. He was no longer aiming for a mere graze or holding anything back—this shot had to land.

Aim, predict, hold his breath.

Seizing the moment the goblin forced Stine back, he released the string. The arrow transformed into an afterimage that almost vanished from sight, leaving only a white vapor trail behind.