His vision began to blur, and his limbs felt as heavy as if they had been filled with lead.
In the instant he lost focus, the rhythm of the battle was thrown into disarray.
A Goblin seized the opportunity, viciously sweeping its wooden club at his legs.
Damian barely leaped aside, but he failed to guard against the spear flying in from behind.
The sharp spearhead sliced across his cheek, spraying a string of blood droplets.
The intense pain forcibly focused his scattered consciousness for a moment, but it was more like a final flash before death.
As he watched the ugly monsters in the Outer Region grinning as they tightened their encirclement, Damian's heart sank bit by bit.
The longsword in his hand had never felt so heavy.
He knew that he might truly die here.
At that despairing moment, for some reason, that morning surfaced in the boy's mind.
"Senior Raven..."
Damian pulled a bitter smile, blood dripping from his chin onto the white pebbles.
"Sorry, it looks like I can't keep my promise to you."
"I still couldn't survive."
Clang!
Another heavy impact rang out.
Damian gritted his teeth and raised his trembling arms to block the club swung by a Goblin Brute.
The searing pain from his split palms nearly made him lose his grip on the hilt, while large black spots began appearing frequently in his vision.
That was a sign that his brain was severely deprived of oxygen.
His arms felt as though a thousand-pound boulder hung from them. Even the simple act of raising his sword to block had become incomparably difficult, and the blade involuntarily dipped lower.
The cunning Goblins around him had clearly realized that their prey was at the end of his rope.
They let out excited, cruel shrieks, their weapons swinging even faster.
Bang!
Another powerful horizontal sweep came at him.
Damian barely raised his sword to block it on instinct.
But it became the last straw that broke the camel's back.
The Breath Combat Technique he had forcibly activated backlashed within his body, and together with that tremendous impact, it shattered the last of his balance.
The boy flew backward like a kite with its string cut, crashing heavily onto the hard pebble-strewn ground.
Pain and dizziness struck at once. His consciousness plunged into darkness, and he completely lost consciousness.
Seeing their prey fall, the surrounding Goblins immediately erupted into chaotic screeches and swarmed forward, scrambling to cut off the human's head.
At that critical moment—
Whoosh—
A piercing sound of something tearing through the air suddenly came from the dense forest to the side.
An arrow shot out from the woods without warning, piercing with perfect accuracy through the throat of a Goblin about to throw a javelin.
[System Notification: Goblin Research progress +1]
This sudden development froze the previously frenzied Goblin pack for an instant.
Then, a figure sprang from the forest like a cheetah.
The figure did not slow down as he ran, smoothly drawing his bowstring once more.
The second arrow screamed through the air, pinning another Goblin javelin thrower that had just reacted to the ground.
[System Notification: Goblin Research progress +1]
Lance's gaze was cold as ice, and his footwork was astonishingly fast.
He charged at full speed toward where Damian had fallen. Just as he was about to rush into the battle, he drew the short bow in his hand into a full moon.
The final arrow left the string, sending off the last Goblin javelin thrower on the field capable of posing a ranged threat.
[System Notification: Goblin Research progress +1]
By then, the Goblin Scouts responsible for keeping watch in the Outer Region had finally come to their senses.
They waved their stone spears with strange cries, attempting to stop this human who did not know his own limits.
The distance between both sides was now less than five meters. The bow had become useless.
Without hesitation, Lance swung the tough hazelwood short bow in his hand and viciously smacked it across the face of a Scout rushing at him.
Smack!
The scrawny Goblin was sent spinning once through the air before crashing heavily to the ground.
Using that opening, Lance casually tossed away his short bow and slipped the iron-rimmed round shield from his back over his left arm.
He had only one goal.
Reach Damian!
Lance curled his body behind the shield, turning himself into a chariot.
Bang!
The shield slammed viciously into the Scout blocking his way.
The tremendous momentum sent it flying several meters away.
An Ordinary adventurer would be exhausted and gasping after using a full-force shield charge four or five times at most.
But Lance was an exception.
Every charge, every burst of strength, was at his absolute peak without any reservation.
The Goblin Scouts trying to stop him were like fragile straw dummies before him, completely incapable of delaying him even slightly.
Even the robust Goblin Brutes were drawn by the commotion and turned their heads one after another, their expressions uncertain and alarmed.
Within a few leaps, Lance had forcibly punched through the encirclement and reached Damian's side.
He quickly swept his gaze over the boy on the ground.
His chest was still rising and falling.
Good. He was only unconscious.
Lance let out a long breath and smoothly drew the Fine Steel shortsword from his waist with his right hand.
He stepped forward with his left leg and lowered his center of gravity, using his shield to protect half his body while concealing his shortsword behind it.
The standard opening stance of Castro Swordsmanship.
Four powerfully built Goblin Brutes roared as they closed in, their spiked clubs raining down.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Dull impacts rang out in quick succession across the shallows.
Lance was like a reef amid crashing waves. No matter how his opponents attacked, the round shield in his hand always blocked lethal blows at the most cunning angles.
The essence of Castro Swordsmanship lay in defense and counterattacks.
But against the relentless bombardment of a group of Goblins, he would usually need to block three or four consecutive times before finding a chance to thrust.
This kind of high-intensity passive beating placed an enormous burden on the arm holding the shield.
After blocking more than a dozen heavy blows, an ordinary person's arm muscles would become numb and weak from the vibrations, causing the shield to slip from their grasp.
Yet Lance had already taken nearly thirty heavy blows in succession.
His left arm remained as steady as cast steel, without even the slightest tremor.
What terrified the Goblins even more were his lethal counterattacks.
With every strike, Lance mobilized the strength of every muscle in his body in an explosive burst.
Combined with the additional 5% piercing power granted by the specialty Trench Rat's Bite he had just acquired—
That Fine Steel shortsword became incomparably sharp.
Squelch!
The sword flashed.
Another Goblin Scout clutched its spurting throat and fell.
Every one of Lance's strikes killed, reaping lives.
The terrifying pressure of being unable to tire him out no matter how they attacked, and being counter-killed no matter how they surrounded him, finally made the dim-witted Goblins feel fear.
They roared and retreated several steps. Rather than daring to fight him head-on again, they drove the surrounding cannon-fodder Scouts forward to drain Lance's stamina.
That was exactly what Lance wanted.
Amid the seamless shifts between attack and defense, he calmly stabbed to death another six Goblin Scouts wielding stone spears.
Just one more.
As long as he killed one more, he could unlock the next stage of Biological Research.
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