Slaughter, Green Blood Splattering

The flood of information was too overwhelming. Lance had no time to examine the description of that unusually named class.

After their brief panic, the Goblins seemed to be trying to conceal their inner turmoil. They gathered their courage once more, roaring as they charged at him.

They wanted to kill him all over again.

"Then come on."

Lance's gaze sharpened.

The Goblins watched in horror as the human who had come back from the dead erupted with an even more terrifying presence than before.

That oppressive feeling was like the high-level predators they had seen deep within the forest.

This time, Lance took the initiative and charged.

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

"Splurt!"

Green blood sprayed everywhere like water from a high-pressure hose.

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

The Brute frantically tried to wipe its eyes.

How could Lance possibly let such an opportunity slip by?

He stepped forward. 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 burst forth like a fountain, splattering across the ground.

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

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

The next ten minutes

became a one-sided slaughter.

Green blood stained the white pebble shoal in a patchwork of color.

Until the final Goblin collapsed amid a despairing scream.

Lance slowly straightened up, thick green gore continuously dripping from his leather armor.

Just then, hurried, dense 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.

Yet when they saw the scene before them clearly, every one of them stopped in unison.

Goblin corpses lay scattered across the ground in pools of blood. Some had been beheaded, while others had massive bloody holes torn through their chests.

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

A figure soaked head to toe in green blood, his face nearly impossible to make out, stood there silently.

Behind him lay the unconscious Damian.

Among this rescue party was the injured adventurer Lance had persuaded to leave earlier.

Lance's words seemed to have moved him.

Rather than continuing to flee alone, he followed the guild's tactical map and desperately found the other vanguard squads advancing nearby.

The leader of this group was Grayrock Town's renowned professional adventurer.

"Windchaser" Gareth.

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

They had never expected that, after rushing all this way, this was what they would find.

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

They had never seen such a violent, bloody scene.

Normally, 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 meant to vent emotion.

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

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

Then he headed toward the group of adventurers.

With every step he took closer, the oppressive scent of blood washed over them.

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

Only the squad at the front remained unmoved.

Captain Gareth wore finely crafted silver-white chainmail, and a longsword with flowing wind magic hung at his waist.

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 behind us."

Gareth took the initiative to speak, his voice calm and powerful.

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

Lance stopped, giving the man a somewhat surprised glance.

Gareth continued, his tone sincere.

"What is your name?"

"I'll truthfully report your kills of these Goblins to the guild. When the time comes, just collect your reward from the counter. You don't need to worry about anyone skimming from it."

Lance fell silent for a moment.

"Raven."

"Thank you."

After saying 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 finally withdraw his gaze.

He was a ranger with particularly strong perception and a sharp eye for such things.

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

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

"But he's very strong."

"I watched how he moved just now. Despite being covered in blood, he basically hadn't suffered any serious injuries."

"To fight nearly twenty well-trained Goblins alone before even taking a class, then still remain so composed afterward..."

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

"That's incredibly impressive. I definitely couldn't have done it before I took a class."

Another burly professional carrying a massive two-handed sword also came over and asked,

"Boss, did you want to recruit him, judging by that look just now?"

"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 teammate, a faint smile curling across his lips.

"No rush."

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

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

Gareth gazed toward the dungeon entrance hidden within the shadows of the distant mountains.

"Grayrock Town isn't that big."

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

The returning convoy jolted along the gravel road, its wheels grinding over potholes with a teeth-gritting creak.

Lance sat in the corner of one of the open wagons transporting the wounded, with an oddly empty space around him.

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

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

By now, Lance's leather armor had long been soaked through with dark green Goblin blood. After fermenting for several hours,

it gave off a suffocating sour stench beneath the slightly warm afternoon sun.