Witch Monastery

Gradually, the donkey cart ventured deeper into the mountains. The foliage grew denser, the light dimmer. The three passengers inside, seemingly overcome by exhaustion, leaned against each other in deep slumber.

Seeing this, Ymik knew victory was assured. A surge of dark delight flooded his heart as visions of pleasures to come in two hours danced in his mind.

Heh heh heh... This is in the bag. Just wait and see!

"Halt—"

At his Goblin command, the two donkeys stopped immediately. Ymik glanced back, confirming his passengers still slept soundly. A cold smirk twisted his lips as he leapt from the cart and scurried into nearby bushes. Plucking a leaf, he pressed it to his lips and produced a series of chirping bird calls.

The forest erupted with movement in response. From the undergrowth emerged several more goblins—equally short, yellow-green, long-nosed and ugly—brandishing crude weapons.

Though autumn had browned much vegetation, the goblins' small stature and earth-toned skin still provided perfect camouflage.

One particularly fat goblin, nearly twice Ymik's girth with a scar across his face, crept forward warily. "They all asleep? Don't screw this up like last time when we lost five brothers before subduing them!"

Ymik's eyebrows shot up. "Impossible! I told you, that was a fluke! This time I doubled the dose—and I saw them drink it myself!"

The memory of Sephera mouth-feeding Charles flashed through his mind, making his teeth grind audibly. He redirected his fury at the scarred goblin. "After all our successful jobs, one mishap and you lose faith in me?!"

"Fine." The goblin leader relaxed, eyes gleaming. "How good is this haul really? Your lackey couldn't even speak straight describing the women!"

Ymik swallowed hard, grinning obscenely. "Come see for yourself. Never seen specimens like these—they'll knock your eyes out!"

"Fancy ladies wandering these parts? They're begging for trouble. Tonight's gonna be wild..."

As he spoke, Ymik yanked open the cart's rear curtain—only to find Charles fully armored, shield ready, smiling politely at them.

Sephera smirked with mocking amusement. Ruth's expressionless face radiated murderous intent so thick it seemed tangible.

Ymik's soul nearly fled his body. "Y-you—how?! I watched you drink—"

He stumbled backward, tongue frozen, sweat pouring. Charles merely shrugged. "Maybe your drugs expired?"

Sleeping potions fell under the category of poisons. Unfortunately, having inherited part of Sephera's essence, he now possessed near total immunity to all toxins—such petty drugs were naturally insignificant.

As for the two witches? Even less needed to be said. As monsters, they were born immune to such things.

"Damn it, they're awake!"

Cursing loudly, Ymik retreated another step, realizing he'd messed up again—his drugs had inexplicably failed, leaving him no choice but brute force!

"Useless!" The goblin leader swore angrily, yet remained unshaken. "No fear! They're just three against our thirty! We could drown them in spit alone!"

"Brothers, charge! First to take one down gets first ride tonight!"

His roar sought to ignite the goblins' fighting spirit through primal lust. Admittedly, this method proved brutally effective—especially given Ruth and Sephera's appearances ranked among the highest caliber!

"Raaargh—kill them—!"

"The one with pink long hair is mine, don't fight with me!"

"The one with the flattest chest is mine, don't fight with me!"

"The one with the flattest chest is the man, I won't fight with you!"

...

Driven by lust, the goblins surged forward, scimitars waving wildly. A few archers hung back with shortbows, though none fired—overconfident in their numbers, they meant to capture, not kill.

Driven by lust and greed, the goblins charged forward with scimitars waving wildly. A handful of archers lingered at the rear with shortbows drawn but not firing - overconfident in their numbers, they sought capture rather than slaughter.

Charles showed no such restraint.

Stepping down from the cart, he unleashed twin Eldritch Blasts straight at the distant archers.

BANG-BANG!

The shots struck true. Two goblins went flying backward, chests caved in, blood gushing from their noses - more dead than alive.

Goblins were small creatures, barely four feet tall on average, with the constitution of malnourished adolescents. Their frail bodies couldn't compare to even Xanathar Guild thugs - where those might survive a blast, these goblins died instantly.

The melee swarm, too blood-crazed to notice their fallen kin, kept charging. Charles advanced fearlessly into their blades.

Then - his form shimmered, turning hazy.

A leading goblin's swing passed through empty air - Charles was already elsewhere.

Blur. A supremely practical defensive spell.

The remaining goblins, blaming their lust-addled vision, swung wildly.

Clang!

Thunk!

All missed - until one lucky strike connected.

The scimitar found its mark at a vital point... yet failed to pierce Charles' layered magical defenses.

Worse for the attacker -

CRACK!

A wave of freezing energy erupted from Charles' body, racing up the blade to encase the goblin in ice.

"G-gl-!"

The choked gurgle marked another corpse.

Armor of Agathys .

While ineffective against powerful ranged attacks - like Kendrz's Storm Warhammer - it remained deadly against weaker foes who couldn't breach its protection.

Only when their companion froze solid did the remaining goblins suddenly understand.

"A mage! He's a mage!"

"Bloody hells, troublesome!"

"Surround him! Don't let him cast!"

Their screams showed seasoned experience - years of banditry had taught them even mages could fall to overwhelming numbers.

Problematic...

At such close quarters, casting Eldritch Blast at distant targets became impractical.

Charles abandoned spellcasting. Raising his shield, he extended his right hand as tendrils of Shadowfell darkness wove through the air, coalescing into a shimmering longsword.

His first swing met a hastily raised goblin shield - and continued straight through the defender's throat.

Schlick!

Blood fountained as the goblin collapsed, clutching his neck.

The sight - so reminiscent of Kendrz's death - sent Charles' heart pounding.

Focus. This is battle. No room for terror.

Kill. Keep killing.

His grip tightened on the sword as he swung at another goblin's shoulder.

Behind him, Sephera emerged gracefully from the cart. With a casual wave, noxious green gas billowed from her palms.

Whoosh!

Goblins inhaled the poison and immediately collapsed, choking, their combat effectiveness halved.

"Damn it all! Loose arrows! Shoot them down!"

The goblin leader, wisely avoiding the gas, discarded his melee weapons and nocked an arrow.

Thwip-thwip-thwip!

Most shots went wild, but the leader's arrow struck true - piercing Charles' Armor of Agathys but failing against his Mage Armor and False Life protections.

The hit drew Charles' full attention.

His crimson eyes locked onto the leader with murderous intent.

Too far for Eldritch Blast...

Needed something stronger. More decisive.

Dismissing his pact weapon, Charles reached to his hip and drew the Storm Warhammer. Two points of mana ignited crackling electricity along its head.

With a mighty heave, he launched the enchanted hammer.

BOOM!

The spinning weapon struck the leader's head with thunderous force, exploding it like a melon before returning to Charles' hand.

"B-boss is dead!"

"So strong! He's an archmage!"

"Run! Run away!"

Finally, with one goblin's shriek, their morale shattered completely. They turned and fled in panic, screaming. These guys clearly had plenty of experience escaping—they scattered expertly, making it difficult for Charles and his companions to pick a target to chase.

Unfortunately for them, such tactics might work against ordinary foes, but against Charles' group? They were sorely outmatched.

Stowing the Storm Warhammer, Charles raised his hand again, firing Eldritch Blasts at the fleeing figures. Every shot that landed either killed or grievously wounded its target.

Behind him, Ruth—who had remained silent until now—finally emerged from the cart. Her body blurred into an afterimage as she darted through the trees at triple the speed of an average goblin.

The panicking goblins didn't get far before a thin red line appeared across their throats or backs. Choked screams and agonized moans followed as each one dropped dead in quick succession.

In less than two minutes, the battle was over.

"Whew. That went smoother than I expected."

Looking at the corpses strewn across the ground, Charles felt his heart pounding like thunder, but he forced a smile and spoke with deliberate nonchalance.

He knew he'd see scenes like this many times in the future. Better to get used to it now than struggle during a life-or-death battle later.

Thankfully, compared to before, today he only felt a bit of bloodlust—already a vast improvement.

The only downside was that, despite effortlessly slaughtering over twenty goblins without a scratch, he'd burned through six spell slots and a bunch of pre-cast defensive spells. A pretty hefty cost...

Cough!

Well, that wasn't the real issue. The bigger problem was that he'd gotten too carried away and failed to keep any alive for interrogation...

Wait, no. There was still one survivor.

Ymik.

This goblin had been cunning enough to avoid both the fight and the fleeing, instead hiding beneath the cart. Neither Charles nor the others had noticed him, allowing him to narrowly escape death.

Now, the wretched creature sat trembling on the ground, legs shaking uncontrollably. A foul stench rose from his soiled trousers, making him nearly unbearable to approach.

Charles muttered, "Clean up the battlefield," then turned to Ymik with a disgusted expression.

Still, for the sake of his mission, he stepped forward. Shadows from the Shadowfell coiled around his hand, forming another longsword, which he pointed at the goblin's throat.

"You saw what happened to your friends. If you want to live, answer my questions."

"Do you know a hobgoblin warlord named Zenith? Where is his old nest? Take us there!"

Ymik trembled violently before shaking his head. "I-I don't know! I don't know where his nest is—!"

Charles' eyebrow twitched. Unfortunate—this guy didn't have the information.

Still, no matter. Even if he didn't know now, that didn't mean he couldn't find out.

"Then you're useless to me." His voice was ice-cold as he raised the longsword, poised to cut Ymik down where he sat.

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