"Stop them, don't let these green-skinned rats through!"
Wrinkles crammed together on his face, hair completely white, a lean man of around fifty stood in the center of the mud road between the houses, shouting loudly.
Behind him, the hurried and fast-retreating backs of children and the elderly were vaguely visible. Their destination was the temporary granary located in the center of the village, which possessed a large cellar constructed many years ago, equipped with supplies and food enough for dozens of people to live on for a few months.
In front of him was a defensive line formed by the villagers.
There were strong men holding heirloom longswords, stout farm women gripping pitchforks tightly, and even a few slightly further back with nervous faces yet immensely resolute expressions, showing not the slightest bit of retreat: skinny teenagers of around fourteen or fifteen years of age.
Further ahead, beyond the crude defensive line constructed from fences, straw piles, and overturned carts, was a cluster of dense, ominous, and sickeningly murky dark green.
Those were more than twenty Goblins eyeing the villagers with hostility!
Somewhat strangely.
Under normal circumstances, facing the prey exuding an enticing aroma right before them, these Green-skinned Goblins should have long since been driven by uncontrolled inner desires, frantically launching a fierce attack on the villagers.
Yet right now, although one could still judge the twisted desires surging within the hearts of these greenskins through the excited and frenzied "scree" strange cries that sounded in the air from time to time, not a single one out of a full twenty-plus Goblins actively broke away from the group or rushed toward the temporarily arranged defensive traps ahead.
With all of them being ordinary Goblins lacking leaders such as "Hobgoblins" or "Bear Goblins", these Goblins eerily displayed a level