CH219 Crimson Berserker

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Class 0 Goblins could evolve into Class 2 Hobgoblins.

From there, Class 2 Hobgoblins typically advanced along three evolutionary paths: Warrior, Archer, or Priest.

A Hobgoblin on the Warrior path would evolve into a Class 3 Goblin Warrior, and eventually a Class 4 Goblin Fighter.

A Hobgoblin choosing the Archer path would become a Class 3 Goblin Archer, later advancing to a Class 4 Goblin Hunter.

Finally, a Hobgoblin blessed with both magical affinity and leadership qualities could evolve into a Class 3 Lesser Goblin Priest, the prerequisite form for becoming a Class 4 Goblin Priest.

Among the current horde, three of the five Class 4 Goblin Fighters surged ahead, leading the goblin frontline charge uphill.

The Fury Warriors under the Major's command deliberately concentrated their downhill counter-charge along the line of one of these Goblin Fighters.

With the Veteran-ranked Major spearheading their assault, the combined force smashed directly into the Goblin Fighter's position. The impact blasted the hulking goblin backward into its own kin, tearing open a gap in the goblin formation. The Fury Warriors immediately exploited this hole, their formation driving deep into the horde.

Rather than focus on killing, the Fury Warriors used their momentum to smash goblins aside, sending them crashing into their allies and compounding the chaos.

By the time the charge formation had cut through the goblin ranks, the enemy line was in disarray, collapsing inward as lesser goblins were trampled beneath the bodies of their own stronger kin.

The first Goblin Fighter, still struggling to regain its footing, never had the chance. The Major's blade, its Weapon Coating so concentrated it stripped away the Aura Coating from his own body, swept down and cleaved through the goblin's neck.

The protective magical barrier around the Goblin Fighter barely slowed the strike. Such was the overwhelming force of the Major's blow—akin to an ultimate move—that it simply shattered through.

Blood gushed into the air from the severed head. Yet instead of falling, the crimson spray seemed to defy gravity, drifting toward the Major before sinking into his weapon. The reddish aura of the blade flared, deepening in color as the Weapon Coating visibly strengthened.

The Major stepped forward at once, placing himself squarely before the two remaining Class 4 Goblin Fighters.

Seeing this, the other Veteran-ranked warriors of the Fury infantry stepped up to take command. They ordered the rest of the troops to concentrate on cutting down the goblin frontline, making no move to assist their commander.

It was clear—the Major would face the two Goblin Fighters alone.

He locked them in combat, ensuring they couldn't disengage to aid their lesser kin. Each time one tried to break away, the Major's retaliatory strikes carved chunks out of their protective barriers, forcing them to stay on him.

Even so, the Major's situation was far from favorable.

The use of his ultimate strike had stripped him of the armor-like defense of his Aura Coating. Without it, he was forced to meet the goblins' heavy blows head-on, each strike carving new wounds into his body.

Yet he endured, skilfully mitigating every attack to lessen the damage.

Still, the battle was only growing harsher. The more of their kin that fell, the more frenzied the two Goblin Fighters became. Their initial technique gave way to raw savagery, every strike driven down with brute force.

And it was seemingly effective. This change in attack steadily drove up the Major's fatigue.

Even in such dire straits, none of the Fury Army nearby made any move to help.

Or so it appeared.

With Veteran-rankers supporting the human troops while the Class 4 Goblin leaders were locked down, the outcome was already inevitable. Goblins fell in droves.

The battlefield reeked of blood.

The pungent stench further agitated the Goblin Fighters. Yet, in their frenzy, they failed to notice that they were not the only ones affected by it.

The Major—who only moments earlier seemed battered and on the backfoot—suddenly smiled.

[Blood Spike]!

With a sharp swing of his blade in an upward diagonal arc, the very ground erupted. Spikes of blood surged up, impaling both Goblin Fighters clean through the midsection.

Each was skewered by no fewer than four spikes, held in place before they could even react.

Only then did they realize the truth.

They hadn't been fighting the Major on even ground. They had been lured into a carefully laid trap.

The Fury Warriors hadn't been killing goblins at random. Each strike, each kill had been precise, designed to maximize blood loss. The spilled life fluid had been subtly channeled across the battlefield, converging on a single area.

The very place the Goblin Fighters had been drawn into during their duel.

Now, that blood had answered the Major's call, turning into crimson spears that bound the Goblin Fighters in place.

The fatigue and weakness that once weighed on the Major's expression vanished instantly. Calmly, the middle-aged man walked up to the skewered Goblins and drove his greatsword through one.

The Goblin Fighter shriveled almost instantly, its body collapsing into a husk as every drop of blood was siphoned into the blade.

The remaining Goblin Fighter's eyes widened in horror.

With its limited intelligence, even it could recognize the truth. They had been tricked—lured into focusing on this human, all to enable him to steal the very Life Liquid from their lower cores.

But the realization came too late.

Pucch!

The greatsword plunged into its abdomen. The Goblin Fighter convulsed, watching helplessly as its painstakingly cultivated Life Liquid was drawn away, its strength and essence devoured by the human before it.

When the Major finally withdrew his blade and released the spell, the corpse fell lifelessly to the ground—dry, brittle, and bloodless.

Slowly, the energy coating his sword flowed upward, spreading from the hilt to his hand. It seeped across his body, wrapping him in a thin crimson film, finer and sharper than ordinary Aura Coating.

His hair shifted as well, turning from black into a vivid, blood-red mane.

The Major now stood as a figure drenched in crimson, a being as if born of blood itself.

"Are you done? It's always a pain setting this up for you," one of the other Veteran-rankers approached, speaking casually despite the carnage.

"You do it because it's worth it, don't you?" The Major replied with a grin.

"…I can't deny that," the other man sighed.

"Alright, enough chit-chat. Let's move. I can already feel the Colonel's glare burning holes into the back of my skull." The Major chuckled.

The other Veteran-ranker laughed with him before returning to lead the troops.

The infantry gathered their weapons and pressed forward once more, charging toward the village and into the exchange of arrows between the company's archers and the goblin bowmen.

This time, however, they did not advance alone.

They had among them a being of war—one whose strength, speed, and resilience only grew the more blood stained the battlefield.

A Crimson Berserker.

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