Wildness and Masks

"Grr%@...#..."

(In Goblin language: When can we go back to sleep? I still want to have children with the woman we caught earlier...) A goblin at the cave entrance sighed with boredom.

"Grumble... clack..."

(In Goblin language: Why do you always prefer human or elf women? I think girls from our own kind are fine too.) Another goblin, appearing somewhat more foolish, had its attention misplaced.

Perhaps because its brain was smaller, it seemed to have more energy and perked up at the mention of an interesting topic.

"Ugh, no..."

(In Goblin language: Female goblins are too skinny, thin and dumb. A mate with more flesh is my ideal pursuit.)

This slightly smarter goblin clearly had higher standards, but not by much.

There is a significant difference among goblins, but generally, they aren't particularly smart. The Church of Truth has studied goblins.

Truth wizards discovered that goblins might have a self-degenerative tendency in their bloodline, which can only be delayed by offspring born from more perfect mates of other races.

Additionally, truth wizards found that goblin genes have a particularly high compatibility with elves, followed by humans, then dwarves and gnomes, and lastly goblins themselves.

Thus, goblins have an innate desire for beautiful elves and humans, and female goblins are no exception.

However, due to survival disadvantages, their numbers are very low, leading most adventurers to believe goblins have no females and can only reproduce by capturing females.

"Grrnorloro...#."

(In Goblin language: I just think having relations with food is disgusting.)

The small-headed goblin was the offspring of a goblin and a troll, possessing great strength but low intelligence.

"Grunana#... ugh!" The big-headed goblin was speechless, feeling like its companion had just insulted the capital.

Just as it was about to retort, a flying stone struck its head, and it fell without finishing its sentence.

Even in death, a smile lingered on its lips.

"Loo..." This startled the large, small-headed goblin, causing it to turn around and instinctively open its mouth to shout an alarm.

But another stone suddenly lodged in its open mouth, preventing it from making any sound.

The next thing that came flying was truly deadly—a blazing fireball.

With no way to dodge, the large goblin collided head-on with the fireball, dying alongside its gatekeeping friend in sorrow.

In its final moments, it thought of the female goblin waiting for its return in the nest: 'I'm dead... who will want you now, Nobara...'

However, its worry was unnecessary, as Ogre would soon send that female goblin to join it.

"Ogre, that was impressive," Lange quietly and sincerely praised from the side.

He was genuinely amazed by Ogre's skill.

The two stones that had just been thrown were both launched by Ogre, something Lange himself couldn't have done.

"Go block the other nest exits, stick to the plan," Ogre ignored Lange's praise and began instructing the next steps of the plan.

In fact, achieving such powerful stone attacks was simple—99% practice and 1% super-fast dynamic vision.

Nothing worth boasting about; the priority was to quickly arrange for the two knights in the team to patrol and block the other cave entrances. After carefully observing the terrain, there were only three exits.

Ogre would storm through the main entrance, with the strongest, Foucault, arranged to support him. Lange and Thrandic would guard the relatively secondary entrances to ensure maximum annihilation.

"Got it," Lange responded, already thinking about how he should practice throwing stones to kill 'people' from nearly a hundred meters away when he got back. It was just too cool.

If Ogre knew, he'd probably just smile at Lange's youthful enthusiasm.

The initial long-range attack wasn't just to prevent the goblins from sounding an alarm; the main reason was that Lange and Thrandic's armor made too much noise. Sending armored warriors to play stealth was a surefire way to let goblins escape.

These creatures evolved quickly in their escape skills, and any surviving goblin had escape strategies. If they were alerted, it wasn't certain they could all be cleared.

So it wasn't Ogre trying to show off.

"Yes!" Thrandic clenched his fists, unable to contain his urge for slaughter. His hatred for goblins had surpassed his aversion to blood.

"This smell..."

As they approached the nest, Foucault's expression noticeably worsened.

The environment in Frontier City was already worse than inland cities, but still within Foucault's tolerance, as he avoided the slums.

But the goblin nest's stench was unavoidable, and Foucault, who didn't consider himself squeamish, felt nauseated by the mix of blood and feces.

Looking into the dark cave, Foucault instinctively felt resistance.

"Here," Ogre pulled a green fruit from his bag, the same kind he had tossed to them at their morning gathering. "Smell it by your nose; it should help a lot. If it's unbearable, crush it; the juice has some odor-eliminating effects."

Ogre hadn't picked the fruit just for eating; he had anticipated this scenario and prepared accordingly, even discussing the plan.

Seeing Lange and Thrandic already surrounding the other exits, he felt slightly relieved.

"I'm fine... uh, thanks. So, what's next..." Foucault glanced at the dead goblins, only realizing when Ogre handed him the fruit.

He suddenly realized he might not be as strong as he thought.

"Next, leave it to me. Foucault, please guard the main entrance." Ogre's hatred for goblins wasn't as deep as Thrandic's.

But goblins were still the culprits behind the destruction of Ogre's childhood village, so his dislike for them wasn't much less.

To prevent blood from ruining his disguise, Ogre took out the spotted mask representing his Gourmet identity.

Leaving those words, Ogre walked into the dark nest without looking back.

'My eyes, naturally exist for you...' Ogre tied the rope loop on his right hand to the ring at the end of his small hammer handle—he was fully prepared.

Before long, the nest echoed with goblin cries, but not the excited shouts of a raid, rather deep fear.

"Lahululuda! Raa..."

(In Goblin language: Run, go inform the master, the butcher is here! Quickly...)

Before the goblin could finish, a flying hammer smashed its head.

"Didn't expect to hit the shift change just right," Ogre pulled the rope, retrieving the thrown hammer.

The retractable force of the arm rope kept the rope taut, preventing it from swinging.

"Well, no choice but to charge in directly."

Fortunately, Ogre had brought teammates this time, so he wasn't too worried about goblins escaping. He had prepared a comprehensive plan for them.

As long as they didn't sound the alarm immediately, these creatures wouldn't escape!

Ogre's mask wasn't just famous in the arena; it was also known among goblins, a result of some survivors escaping during Ogre's early, less efficient slaughter days.

Though the name was different.

In the goblin world, Ogre wasn't called the 'Gourmet,' but rather—

The 'Goblin Butcher'!

Ogre's attitude towards these demon beasts had always been singular.

That was to annihilate them completely.

When it came to dealing with goblins, he was a true professional.