Slaughter, Green Blood Spatters

The amount of information was overwhelming, and Lance had no time to carefully read the description of that unusually named class.

After their brief fear, the Goblins seemed to muster their courage again to hide their inner panic, roaring as they charged at him.

They wanted to kill him again.

"Then come on."

Lance's eyes narrowed.

The Goblins felt in horror that the resurrected human was radiating an even more terrifying aura than before.

The pressure was like that of the high-level predators they had once seen deep within the forest.

This time, Lance took the initiative and charged.

He raised his shield to knock aside an incoming Goblin Scout, while the short sword in his hand struck like a venomous serpent, slicing precisely across the glaring red spot beneath its armpit.

"Pfft!"

Green blood sprayed everywhere like a high-pressure water gun.

It splashed all over Lance and directly covered the face of the Goblin Brute beside it, blocking its vision.

The Brute panicked and tried to wipe its eyes.

How could Lance possibly let that opportunity pass?

He stepped forward, and this most basic straight thrust of Castro Swordsmanship was astonishingly fast at that moment.

The sword tip pierced straight through the red spot on the Brute's throat without resistance.

More blood gushed out like a fountain, splattering across the ground.

He was surprised to find that the attack effect granted by [Weakness Insight] was simply brutal. Every strike caused massive bleeding.

Those two clean, decisive instant kills intimidated every Goblin present.

The next ten minutes

became a one-sided slaughter.

Green blood stained the white pebble shallows in blotches.

Until the last Goblin fell amid a despairing scream.

Lance slowly straightened up, sticky green blood dripping continuously from his leather armor.

Just then, a rapid, dense patter of footsteps came from the jungle to the side.

"Over there! Hurry!"

A large group of fully armed adventurers pushed through the bushes and rushed into the clearing.

However, when they saw the scene before them clearly, everyone stopped in unspoken agreement.

Goblin corpses lay scattered everywhere in pools of blood. Some had been decapitated, while others had gaping bloody holes in their chests.

Green blood pooled across the ground, glinting with an eerie sheen beneath the sunlight.

A figure drenched in green blood, his face barely visible, stood there silently.

Behind him lay the unconscious Damian.

Among the rescue party was the injured adventurer whom Lance had just persuaded to leave.

It seemed Lance's words had moved him.

He had not chosen to continue fleeing alone. Instead, he followed the guild's tactical map and desperately found the other vanguard squads advancing nearby.

The leader of this group was a renowned professional adventurer from Grayrock Town.

"Windchaser" Gareth.

He was also one of the strongest experts in this vanguard force, the first to complete the mission of clearing out the Gnoll stronghold.

But they had never expected that, after rushing all the way here, this was what they would see.

Several young team members could not help swallowing, their faces pale.

They had never seen such a violent and bloody scene.

Ordinary adventurers killed monsters only to complete missions or harvest materials, usually stopping once the job was done.

But the sight before them

looked less like a battle and more like a slaughter born of vented rage.

Lance noticed the newcomers as well and put away his equipment.

He walked over to the boy, bent down, and carefully lifted the unconscious Damian into his arms.

Then he strode toward the adventurers.

As he drew closer step by step, an oppressive presence mixed with the stench of blood washed over them.

Several adventurers with weaker nerves actually took an involuntary step back, making way for him.

Only the leading squad remained completely still.

Captain Gareth wore finely crafted silver-white chainmail, with a longsword at his waist that flowed with wind magic.

Unlike the others, he did not feel afraid. Instead, he looked at Lance with open admiration.

"The vanguard has a convoy specifically for transporting the wounded back. It's just behind us."

Gareth spoke first, his voice steady and powerful.

"You can go there and return to town with them."

Lance stopped and looked at the man with some surprise.

Gareth continued, his tone sincere.

"What's your name?"

"I'll report your record against these Goblins truthfully to the guild. When the time comes, you can go straight to the counter to claim your reward. Don't worry about anyone skimming off the top."

Lance fell silent for a moment.

"Raven."

"Thanks."

With that, he carried Damian straight through the crowd and headed toward the rear.

Only after Lance's figure disappeared into the depths of the jungle

did a man carrying a longbow behind Gareth withdraw his gaze.

He was a ranger with strong Perception and a sharp eye.

"Boss, he doesn't seem to be a professional yet."

The ranger looked over the corpses covering the ground and quickly made a professional assessment.

"But he's very strong."

"I watched his movements just now. Though he was covered in blood, he hadn't suffered any serious injuries."

"To take on nearly twenty well-trained Goblins alone before even becoming a professional, then still remain so composed afterward..."

The ranger shook his head, his tone carrying a hint of admiration.

"He's incredibly impressive. I definitely couldn't have done that before becoming a professional."

Another burly professional carrying an enormous two-handed sword came over and asked,

"Boss, from the way you looked at him just now, were you thinking of recruiting him?"

"Why didn't you say anything?"

He had followed Gareth for years and immediately recognized his captain's appreciation for talent.

Gareth turned to look at his teammates, a faint smile curling his lips.

"No rush."

"Let's finish this large-scale joint sweep first."

"As long as he keeps walking this path, as long as he comes to challenge the dungeon, we'll meet again sooner or later."

Gareth looked toward the dungeon entrance hidden in the shadow of the distant mountains.

"Grayrock Town isn't a big place."

"All true powerhouses will eventually gather at that dungeon."

The returning convoy jolted along the gravel road, its wheels creaking harshly as they rolled over potholes.

Lance sat in the corner of one of the open wagons carrying the wounded, surrounded by an oddly empty space.

The other adventurers all wished they could press themselves against the very edges of the wagon, staying as far away from this harbinger of disaster as possible.

It was not because they feared Lance's aura, but purely out of physical revulsion.

At that moment, Lance's leather armor had long been soaked in dark green Goblin blood. After fermenting for several hours beneath the slightly warm afternoon sun, it gave off a suffocating sour stench.