The Prey (Part 2)

"Romon! Romon! Wake up! Romon!" In his sleep, Romon felt something wet on his face and someone shaking his body. When he opened his eyes, "Ah!" He sprang up at once. Right before him was the face of an enormous black dog.

"Romon, you're awake." The one speaking from not far away was a middle-aged man wearing a cloak woven from emerald-green leaves. Besides the black dog called Little Black, a large white dog stood beside him as well.

"Teacher? Is that you, Teacher?" Romon thought he recognized him. "Teacher Jefa?"

Druid Jefa had come to settle here a year ago, living in a forest outside the town. Romon had studied Druid teachings under him. Of course, aside from trading goods, he usually did not come into town.

"Of course I am the Druid, Jefa North," the middle-aged man said blandly. "But I am not your teacher."

Romon felt as though he had been struck by lightning. Beneath his clothes, his body trembled faintly. Had the secret of his soul been discovered? No, impossible. He had not been questioned even in the goddess's temple.

"My only disciple is Wei Wan Mo Qiurui." Behind the middle-aged man, a beautiful young girl poked her little head out and looked curiously at Romon. Druid Jefa gently stroked her hair.

"Then... what business does Master Jefa have with me?" Though Romon was no longer the original Romon, hearing this still left him in a foul mood.

"I saw firelight here. I was afraid it would start a forest fire, so I hurried over!" Jefa said.

"Firelight? The campfire my two companions and I lit while camping in the wilderness?" Romon was thoroughly confused as he looked at the Druid. "There was no helping it. I had to light a campfire to drive off wild beasts..."

He waved his arms as he explained to the Druid Master, his voice growing more and more agitated. Within him, the desire to protect nature and the need to use nature tangled together into a hopeless snarl.

"Besides, my companions are with me!" Romon explained. "They're watching the campfire. They won't let it burn down the forest."

He had been about to say this, but the latter half of the sentence caught in his throat.

Before Romon's eyes, Druid Jefa's face gradually blurred, until it transformed into Mr. Richard's weathered, resolute features.

"Yes, your companions are by your side." Mr. Richard rested a hand on the hilt of the longsword at his waist.

Romon looked around with wide eyes. Not only had Druid Jefa become the warrior Richard, the wilderness woods around them had suddenly become the town's training ground.

The young girl who had peeked out from behind the Druid was gone as well. Only Richard's longsword hung at his waist.

"Our companions are by our side!" Richard slowly drew his longsword and held it level, pointing it at Romon. "What could be more reliable than this?"

"Companion?" Romon drew his own sword and stared at his shortsword. "This is a companion I can rely on." Then, all at once, he felt that the situation was strangely familiar, and his emotions surged. "But my companions are not just my sword. There are also Fafier and Nick!"

"Your companion Nick has suffered grave injuries. He may die at any moment," Richard said slowly. "One of your first two companions in adventure is about to die." Richard hesitated. "Well, perhaps not die completely, but lose the ability to care for himself."

He slowly shook his head. "But what difference is there?"

He stared into Romon's eyes. "Tell me, will anyone still be willing to follow you into wilderness adventures? Even your companion Fafier—will he still go with you? And even if he stays with you, when will he die?"

"Honorable Mr. Richard!" Romon's heart churned. "You are an outstanding warrior. Do you not believe in those who fight at your side?"

"I believe in them, but they are all dead," Richard said flatly. "In thirty-five years of battle, too many of my brothers have died!"

A rare expression of sorrow appeared on his face. "The only thing that has remained with me all along is my longsword."

Romon was not in his right mind after all, and did not notice the absurdity in this. Of course, if he had noticed it, it would not have appeared in his dream.

"No, I won't be like that!" Romon roared. "I was the one who persuaded them to come out, so I will use my sword to help them."

"Really?" Richard casually swung his sword. His seasoned swordsmanship soon stabbed Romon to the ground.

Richard's cold gaze looked down on Romon sprawled on the ground. He said, "Get up!"

Romon climbed up, only to be stabbed down again. He climbed up, was stabbed down, climbed up, was stabbed down—over and over, who knew how many times.

"Get up!" Romon heard those words once more, but his body seemed to have detached from his soul. After struggling several times, he could only make it tremble faintly, as though a thousand-pound hammer were pressing him down.

"Get up! Enemy attack!!!" Romon jolted awake.

So it was a dream. Romon's head felt muddled. Just as he was about to take a breath, his eyes suddenly widened at the sight of a throwing spear.

The throwing spear had pierced through the tent shared by the three of them and sunk into the dirt! The faint light of night illuminated the surroundings.

"Someone's attacking!" Romon's heart tightened, and he hurriedly reached for the sword beside him.

Bracing himself with one hand, Romon sprang up. His nimble body shot out of the tent, then he rolled along the ground before flipping back to his feet.

"So many goblins!" Under the campfire's glow, Romon could not even be bothered to brush the dirt from himself. His eyes narrowed as he tried to see more clearly through the darkness, his gaze sweeping swiftly from side to side.

Fafier held the pot lid used for cooking soup in one hand as a shield. With the other, he casually grabbed a throwing spear from the ground, holding it with the spearhead pointed down. "We've been targeted!" As he spoke, he gave the spear a rough inspection. "Hm? The spearhead isn't even damaged?" He had originally intended to use it as a club.

The throwing spears brought by the goblins were clearly not fine weapons.

Normally, to prevent enemies from throwing a spear back, the joint between a throwing spear's metal spearhead and wooden shaft should use a section of softwood.

That way, after it suffered the impact of another throw, the spear could no longer be used directly. Otherwise, would that not simply be handing weapons to the enemy?

"One, two, three..." By the light of the campfire and the stars, Romon rapidly counted their enemies.

Before he could finish, Romon's ears twitched.

"Romon! Over here! Back-to-back!" He heard Nick's voice behind him. He hurriedly took several steps back, then collided back-first with the other two.

A chill spread through Romon's entire body. The thoughts that had not fully cleared after waking from his nightmare sharpened at once, and the lingering drowsiness was immediately swept from his mind.

Once surrounded, they had to respond calmly. If they could not adopt the right strategy, they could easily suffer attacks from every direction, while an ordinary human could only defend against attacks from one direction at a time.

As for veteran masters steeped in slaughter, they could expend enormous amounts of stamina to attain extraordinary speed and seek an opportunity to break through the encirclement.

Just as the newly awakened Romon assessed the situation, Fafier thrust the butt of his throwing spear into the campfire and fiercely flicked it outward. Several burning logs immediately flew toward the goblins in front of him.

"Break out from here!" Fafier roared, then drove off the ground with his feet and took the lead in breaking through.

Romon and Nick immediately felt one person disappear from behind them. The two hesitated slightly, then awkwardly moved toward Fafier.

Several more throwing spears slammed into the spot where the three had just stood.

Many creatures feared fire, and goblins were clearly no exception. Seeing the flying logs, the goblins in that direction instantly fell into chaos.

Romon and Nick each casually grabbed a goblin to use as a meat shield.

The three fought as they retreated. Before long, they broke through the defensive ring, but did not think to counterattack immediately. They fled some distance farther in a sorry state before finally stopping.

"Rubich! Rubich!" The goblins behind them gave chase for a while, but after several more were killed, they stopped pursuing. They merely shouted meaningless words, as though celebrating victory.

"What do we do now?" Nick threw the nearly dead goblin to the ground and leaned against a nearby tree, gasping for breath. Several tears had been cut into his thin clothes, and he bore a few wounds. "Do we just keep running forward all the way back to town?"

Romon casually stabbed down with his sword. The goblin let out a shrill scream, and then he held his sword crosswise and slit the throat of the one in his hand as well. He looked up at the stars. "Wrong!" he said, pointing in the direction they had come from. "That way is the road back to town."

"Ah, cough—then why did we go this way?" Nick coughed, turning to look curiously at Fafier.

"How could I worry about that just now? We couldn't just stand there and keep taking hits!" Fafier spread his hands. "At worst, we'll take a detour."

"Why take the long way around? Better to turn back and kill our way through." Romon gave a chuckle. "We had just been asleep and weren't prepared, so we were caught off guard."

"Exactly. Romon and I were asleep just now." Thinking of their hasty strategic retreat, Nick immediately became somewhat angry. "Why should we be afraid of them?" His anger grew fiercer. "Not one of those goblins is as tall as a fifteen-year-old boy."

"My shortbow is still over there. Someone gave it to me, and it's important to me, so I have to get it back." Fafier raised the small shield in his left hand. This wooden shield had originally been used as a pot lid. "They all have weapons too. Each of us needs a shield, at least."

Romon reached into his clothes and took out some hemp rope from his spatial pocket. He deftly tied a goblin corpse to his arm, making a meat shield true to its name. He weighed it in his hand and smiled. "It'll do in a pinch."

"Not bad, good idea!" Nick took a length of rope and tied one on in the same manner. After swinging his arm, though, he found the goblin corpse's dangling head, four little arms, and little legs rather inconvenient. He planned to cut them off with his sword, leaving only the torso as a shield.

Romon hesitated somewhat, but then thought that the three of them already had more or less blood on their bodies anyway. They need not fear adding this bit of bloodstink and attracting the attacks of carnivorous beasts.

Romon also modified his meat shield as Nick had done, while asking Fafier, "Exactly how many of them are there?" The three had chatted for quite some time, so they naturally knew that Fafier had been keeping watch.

Fafier found using meat shields rather frightening, but did not say anything about it.

"Mm, at least more than ten. Twenty isn't impossible either." Fafier thought about it, unable to say for certain. He spread his hands to show that he did not really know. "We were fighting in a chaotic mess in the dark just now. Who had time to count exactly how many there were?"