Final Life Online

Puddle floated beside me, his body pulsing faintly now after using so much mana. Ash and a thin mist of blood clung to his round form, but he looked proud.

"Nice work," I said quietly, keeping my eyes forward.

Only one enemy remained standing—the Hobgoblin Warrior.

But he had changed.

The moment the most of his tribe died, he let out a deep, earth-shaking roar. Then, his body began to shift. Thick veins bulged and darkened, glowing with corrupted energy. His eyes turned crimson, and his armor cracked as his muscles swelled unnaturally beneath it.

A system notification flashed in front of me:

[Hobgoblin Warrior has activated: Blood Rage – Tribal Vow ]

– Strength +80%

– Agility +60%

– Damage Taken -50%

– Cannot feel pain

– Duration: Until death or will be exhausted to death in 30 minutes.

Now his whole body burned with a blood-red glow. Corrupt energy pulsed off him like waves of heat. He stepped forward—then another heavy step. Each stomp made the ground crack underfoot.

His cleaver was shattered at the base, but he didn't care. He gripped the jagged remnant like a savage hook-blade, his breaths deep and beast-like.

"You…" he growled, voice rumbling like thunder. "You killed my tribe…"

He slammed his foot down, kicking up a cloud of dust.

"Then die with them!"

He charged—fast, without warning or hesitation. No tactics. No planning. Just pure, uncontrolled rage.

I braced myself, gripping my sword tightly with both hands. Without turning, I called out to Puddle, "Fall back. He's mine."

"Kyuu…" Puddle hummed, floating back into the shadows to rest.

The Hobgoblin rushed in—far quicker than he had any right to be. A blur of bloodlust and fury. His blade came down hard.

I twisted just in time to block the strike, but the force behind it was incredible. It threw me backwards, sliding five meters across the ground, my boots carving a trail through the dirt.

"He's not thinking," I muttered. "Just attacking."

And that made him even more dangerous.

He swung again—faster, harder.

I ducked under it and struck his ribs with Whirlwind Slash, then spun out of his range. Blood sprayed from the cut—but he didn't react. Not even a flinch. He turned on me instantly, charging again.

"He can't feel pain…" I gritted my teeth. "He'll keep fighting until his body gives out."

But I wasn't going to let it get that far.

I lifted my hand and triggered a skill I'd recently added to my arsenal.

"Mana Shield!"

A glowing barrier of energy flared to life around me just in time to absorb a deadly strike to my head. The shield cracked—but it held.

I countered with a Fireball, launching it at his chest.

BOOM!

The fire exploded on impact—but the warrior burst through the flames, still roaring, still relentless.

This wasn't a duel anymore.

It had become a test of endurance.

With each blow he landed, his blood splashed across the battlefield—and still, he kept coming.

But I noticed something.

His stance was beginning to slip.

His footing wasn't as sharp.

Blood Rage was powerful, but reckless. It borrowed from his strength without regard for his body's limits. Every second he kept fighting brought him closer to collapse.

I just had to hold on—and wait for the right moment.

He charged once more, a blazing red blur of death.

I sidestepped—barely.

His broken blade grazed my shoulder, tearing through my armor. Pain flared, but I gritted my teeth and rolled with the hit, coming up behind him.

Vertical Slash.

My sword came down, slicing deep into the back of his thigh. I felt the blade cut muscle and tendon—but still, he didn't slow down.

He turned with a wild snarl and swung again.

BOOM!

The cleaver struck my Mana Shield—shattering it completely this time. The blow sent me flying backwards, landing hard in the dirt, the impact knocking the breath from my lungs.

I coughed, blood rising in my throat.

Still, he wasn't done.

He came again.

I forced myself up and used Whirlwind Slash, spinning through his attack. My blade cut across his side—clean and deep, blood spraying into the air.

Still nothing. No pause. No slowing.

But now, I could see it more clearly.

His legs wobbled for just a second when he turned.

His swings… just a little slower.

That was my window.

I backed off, giving him space, forcing him to keep pushing himself. He roared and charged again, dragging his jagged weapon through the dirt, throwing wild, thoughtless strikes.

I dodged. I parried. I hit when I could. My stamina was running low, but his body was breaking down even faster.

Another hit landed.

And another.

And another.

He ignored all of it.

But his breathing was getting uneven.

His step faltered mid-swing.

That was the moment.

I lunged forward and leapt, my sword raised high.

"Swift Cut—Vertical Slash combo!"

The first slash tore across his neck, nearly severing his windpipe. The second came down like a hammer, slamming into his chest and cleaving into his ribs.

The red glow in his eyes flickered. His body shuddered.

Then, like a tree with no roots left, he collapsed forward.

THUD.

One last wheeze escaped his throat before everything went still.

Silence returned.

Only the sound of my ragged breathing and Puddle's soft, bubbling regeneration filled the quiet.

Then the system messages popped up:

[You have defeated Tribe Lord: Hobgoblin Warrior]

[Field Boss Eliminated – EXP Gained: 112,400]

[Rare Skill Obtained: Bloodrage – Tribal Vow]

[You have acquired: Hobgoblin Warrior's Cleaver (Rare)]

[Quest Progress Updated: Path of the Hero – 3/1 Tribe Lords Defeated]

I stood there, breathing hard, my armor splattered with blood, fingers numb from holding my sword too tightly.

Slowly, I looked down at the Hobgoblin's fallen body.

"Three down," I muttered. "Only the Direwolf Tribe remains."

Behind me, Puddle floated quietly, letting out a soft, satisfied kyuu. He drifted near the scorched remains of the Hobgoblin Shaman he had destroyed earlier. Wisps of smoke still curled off the blackened grass beneath him.

I turned my attention to the remains.

Or rather, what was left of them.

Only two things had survived Puddle's destructive magic:

A twisted bone staff, wrapped in sinew and etched with softly glowing tribal runes…

And a faintly pulsing skill book, hovering just above the dirt, glowing gently with violet light.

"Huh…" I said softly, stepping forward to take a closer look.