Chapter -21.
"Did I give this punk permission to leave?" Gilbert grumbled, clicking his tongue with irritation. Meanwhile, Adam, the young boy, finally reached the bonfire, where a few glowing embers still burned among the logs. He picked up a smoldering stick, his hands shaking, and glanced back at Lucien and Gilbert, seeking more guidance.
Lucien, observing Adam's trembling hands, exchanged a tense nod with him and motioned for him to approach the camp carefully while giving him a thumbs up. "Go for it."
Feeling reassured by the gesture, Adam took a deep breath and let out a fierce, defiant yell as he hurled the burning wood into a corner of the camp. For a fleeting moment, nothing seemed to happen, and as Adam looked back toward the villagers in confusion, the worn fabric of the goblins' tent ignited with a satisfying whoosh.
As the tent blazed to life, Lucien and Gilbert urged the villagers to huddle closer, waiting for the perfect moment to ambush the panicked goblins.
On the opposite side, startled from their rest or whatever they had been up to in the tent, the goblins burst out of the camp in chaotic disarray. Fortunately, Adam had already made his way back to the group.
"They're smaller than the ones that ambushed us before," Gilbert observed, attempting to uplift the villagers' spirits. "We're going to wipe them out here and set their burning tents on fire."
Indeed, the goblins that charged out were smaller and appeared less intimidating. However, that didn't guarantee an easy battle for the villagers; after all, a dying monster is still a monster, and a cornered creature can be especially vicious.
Finally, after assessing the situation, Gilbert bellows a battle cry that echoes through the forest, and together, the group of villagers charges into the fray. The goblins, unprepared for such an ambush, fall victim to the volley of the villagers' attacks, granting them swift success.
The goblins began to fall, one after another, their green-tinted blood staining the earth in a sickly hue. Seeing this, adrenaline rushes through the villagers' veins, and despite the fear gnawing at their guts, they feel a fierce pride swelling within them.
Meanwhile, Lucien, dealing with the first wave of smaller goblins, notices that some of them are trying to put out the fire in a comical manner, their panic turning into desperation. Just then, a goblin with a crude spear rushes toward Lucien, its eyes wide with terror. Lucien, taking a deep breath, raises his sword to block the incoming blow, but it is no match for his superior strength and skill. The goblin's weapon clatters to the ground, and with a swift kick, Lucien sends it tumbling back into the fire.
Just then, a shrill whisper pierces the air, beginning to organize the goblins. A larger, more heavily armored goblin emerges from the flaming wreckage of their camp, barking commands in their harsh, guttural language. The goblins' eyes suddenly burn with a mix of fear and hatred.
Seeing the sudden change in the goblin camp, Lucien turns his attention toward the intimidating large goblin, feeling that he must deal with it before it can make any impact on the battlefield that could alter the course of the battle.
The goblin leader, on the other hand, feels the same way; its attention is drawn to Lucien as if he were the only one who poses an immediate threat. Without warning, the goblin leader snarls and points its crude sword in Lucien's direction. It charges through the flaming debris, its minions parting to make way. The ground trembles under its heavy footsteps, and the air is suddenly filled with the clang of metal as Lucien takes an attacking stance.
Clang...
Instead of allowing the leader to attack him first, Lucien rushes forward and swings his sword at it with powerful force. However, the goblin leader surprisingly parries the blow with unexpected skill, leaving Lucien slightly startled.
"What on earth? How is this guy so skilled?" Lucien thought to himself as he charged at the goblin leader once more. However, this time, the leader's powerful strikes forced him back with each heavy blow.
Meanwhile, Gilbert was swinging his axe wildly on the other side of the fray when he noticed Lucien struggling against the formidable goblin leader. He shouted, "Lucien, hold on! I'm coming to help!" But just as he spoke, a chilling scream pierced the air—it was a villager in distress. Gilbert's gaze fell on the ground where a villager lay, a severed hand lying mere inches away, while a goblin loomed over him, grinning viciously, poised to deliver a fatal blow with its rusty, nearly broken sword.
Realizing the urgency of the situation, Gilbert chose to assist the villager first. He had faith in Lucien's ability to handle the goblin leader for a few moments without his help. "Take this, you monster!" he yelled, his decision firm. He hurled his axe with precision, and it struck the goblin square in the chest, causing it to stagger back, confusion etched on its face as it looked toward Gilbert.
As the goblin succumbed to its injuries, Gilbert rushed over to the fallen villager. "Are you okay?" he asked, although he knew the grim reality: with his arm severed, there was no chance the villager was truly fine.
"No, I'm not! Can't you see my arm? It's cut off by that bastard! I'm going to die while bleeding." The villager, clearly struck by the fear of death, was more angered by Gilbert's assistance than grateful for his timely intervention. "What am I going to do? You know I just got married a few weeks ago, right, Gilbert?"
Gilbert, not understanding the direction in which the villager was taking his words, saw that he was about to utter nonsense in the midst of the chaotic battle. Instead of being kind, he raised his heavy hand high and struck the villager in the neck, rendering him immediately unconscious. He didn't have time to listen to foolish chatter while lives were at stake.
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