When Kyle opened the cabin door and stepped outside, his feet made no sound.
The [Light Footsteps] he had absorbed from the goblin had erased the sensation of his weight like a feather. Whether he stepped on dry grass or gravel, the impact of his soles touching the ground was perfectly nullified.
The air outside was cold and damp.
Mist lay low along the forest's edge after midnight, and dozens of yellow eyes flashed through the darkness between the veils of fog. They were waiting for the sacrifice to be dragged out of the cabin. More precisely, they were waiting for the assassination squad inside to subdue the sacrifice and haul it outside.
But what emerged through the open door was not the sacrifice.
A boy drenched in the smell of blood slipped silently into the darkness.
With his back against the cabin wall, Kyle narrowed his gaze.
[Night Vision] was stripping away the darkness. Beyond the forest's edge, where even moonlight could not reach, the outlines of goblins hiding behind the trees emerged one by one. Their body heat stood out against the cold air around them, detected as faint sources of warmth.
Twelve.
That was how many had been positioned around the cabin. There were probably more deeper in the forest. But within the range of Kyle's senses, twelve was the full count.
Kyle mapped out their positions in his head.
A semicircular cordon centered on the cabin. The gaps between them were roughly five to ten paces. They used trees and bushes as cover, ensuring their lines of sight did not overlap. It was a textbook encirclement. The problem was that this textbook formation was also a weakness.
If their lines of sight did not overlap, then one of them could die without the goblin beside it noticing immediately.
Kyle peeled his back from the wall and began walking slowly.
There was no sound. As if one shadow were melting into another, Kyle's body flowed along the cabin's shade toward the forest's edge. The force of the orc strength driving his leg muscles against the ground was powerful, but [Light Footsteps] absorbed the impact perfectly.
Mist curled around Kyle's ankles.
The closer he came to the forest's edge, the heavier the air grew. The wind flowing between the trees carried the stench of rotting meat mixed with animal excrement. It was proof that the goblin settlement's territory was near. Rather than ignore the smell, Kyle read the direction of the wind. It was blowing from the northeast—the direction of their main camp.
The nearest goblin was crouched behind an oak about twenty paces from the cabin.
Its gaze was fixed on the cabin door. It was waiting for its companions to drag the sacrifice outside. A crude rope was wrapped around its waist, and it clutched a pitch-black dagger coated in poison. Tools for tying up the sacrifice and dragging it away.
When Kyle stepped behind it, the goblin still hadn't sensed his presence.
The wind was blowing from behind Kyle. Before the smell of blood could reach the goblin's nose, Kyle's sword reached it first.
Slice.
The black iron shortsword pierced the back of its skull. The dull sensation of bone splitting traveled up his wrist. The goblin collapsed at the base of the tree without even managing to scream. Before it could hit the ground, Kyle clamped his left hand over its mouth. Even the sound of the corpse striking the earth had to be minimized.
A writhing mist rose from the corpse and was sucked into Kyle's breath.
A negligible amount of energy. Almost meaningless compared to the orc. But Kyle swallowed even that tiny trace without letting it escape. Deep in his stomach, the curse of Greed stirred. Give me more. Eat more.
Kyle ignored the craving and shifted his gaze to the next target.
The second goblin was lying in the bushes five paces from the first.
As Kyle approached, it turned its head and stole a glance toward where its companion had been. The moment it realized the companion's yellow eyes were gone, its mouth began to open.
Kyle was faster.
His left hand clamped over the goblin's mouth, and the black iron shortsword in his right hand swept across its throat. Hot blood spilled over the back of Kyle's hand. Its limbs twitched violently, then went limp. Kyle shoved the corpse into the bushes and roughly wiped the blood from his blade on the grass.
The third.
The fourth.
Kyle moved clockwise along the outer edge of the cordon, slaughtering the goblins one by one.
Silent footsteps, clear vision even in the darkness, and a single blow from the black iron shortsword backed by an orc's strength. Once the three worked in concert, the goblins' encirclement quietly collapsed from within.
Immediately after dealing with the fourth goblin, Kyle looked down at his hands.
His blood-soaked fingers were trembling faintly. It wasn't from the cold. With every goblin he killed, the craving rising from deep in his stomach grew stronger. The pleasure of feeding. The thrilling satisfaction of draining away a life in an instant. Twisted together with the impulse to slaughter, it was shaking Kyle's reason ever so slightly.
Focus.
Kyle clenched his trembling hand.
The [Ironman] trait suppressed the waves of emotion. The craving hadn't vanished, but it sank beneath the surface of his reason. Kyle began walking again.
A slight complication arose when he dealt with the fifth goblin.
It was up in a tree, wedged between the branches and looking down below in the role of a lookout. Unlike the others, it had a wide field of vision. Approaching from below risked exposing him.
Kyle paused beneath the tree and read the direction of its gaze.
The goblin was looking toward the cabin. It swept its eyes left and right intermittently, but its gaze returned on a cycle of roughly ten breaths. After confirming the pattern three times, Kyle caught the moment its attention fixed on the cabin.
He circled behind the tree and climbed the trunk without a sound. With arms backed by orc strength, pulling himself upward by gripping the bark took only three breaths. [Light Footsteps] even minimized the sound of bark peeling away.
When the goblin turned its head atop the branch, Kyle was already above it.
The black iron shortsword came straight down into the crown of its head. Bone caved with a dull crack. Before its body could slip from the branch, Kyle caught it by the ankle and draped it over the limb, preventing the corpse from hitting the ground.
Mist rising from the goblin's corpse brushed the tip of Kyle's nose.
His stomach churned. This time, it wasn't craving but dissatisfaction. Too weak. Not enough. The curse demanded stronger prey.
When Kyle dealt with the sixth goblin, he sensed a disturbance.
A short, sharp signal sounded from deeper in the forest. A grotesque clicking of the tongue. One of the goblins had realized that the assassination squad in the cabin had been gone too long.
The remaining six goblins in the cordon began moving all at once.
They no longer waited, facing the cabin. Instead, they began retreating quickly toward the forest's interior. They intended to return to the main camp and report to their leader. Even their retreat was conducted like trained soldiers. Rather than running all at once, they withdrew in pairs, alternating their cover.
Kyle immediately gave chase.
But he didn't pursue them blindly. Following the path along which he had slaughtered the outer edge of the cordon, he looped around to the fleeing goblins' flank. They were retreating northeast, toward the main camp. Kyle reached a midpoint along their route before they did.
He drew a throwing dagger from his belt.
Extending his arm toward the back of the rearmost goblin, he threw. The orc strength behind the attack made the dagger's weight and speed something entirely beyond an ordinary human's throw.
Whoosh—!
The dagger cut through the darkness and sank precisely into the goblin's spine. As it toppled, choking back a scream, Kyle was already running toward the next one.
A full sprint powered by orc strength.
Abnormal acceleration burst from his lean frame, tearing through the forest's darkness. [Light Footsteps] completely erased the sound of his feet even at full speed. A silent charge. When one of the fleeing goblins looked back, Kyle's black iron shortsword was already crashing down toward its skull.
Thud.
The goblin slammed into the ground as its skull caved in. Its partner witnessed the death and let out a shriek. A short, sharp warning cry. The remaining four fleeing deeper into the forest heard it and quickened their pace.
The remaining four scattered between the trees.
Kyle chased them two more steps before stopping. The soil beneath his feet had changed. Fallen leaves had been piled up unnaturally. A trap. Once he ventured deeper into the forest, he would be in their territory. The information he'd read in the library flashed a warning in his mind. Evolved goblins imitated human tactics, laying traps and snares to lure in prey. The pursuer could become the hunted instead.
Kyle stopped himself before taking another step and moved one pace back.
He picked up a branch and prodded the pile of leaves, revealing a pit packed with sharply pointed wooden stakes. A dark red substance coated their tips. Poison. If he'd taken one more step, a stake would have pierced his ankle.
That's far enough.
Kyle stopped and surveyed his surroundings.
Three in the cabin, eight in the cordon. Eleven in total.
The quest required at least ten right goblin ears. He already had enough.
But Kyle's footsteps did not turn toward the village.
Completing the quest wasn't his objective.
If the villagers the village chief had said were dragged into the forest were still alive, they would be trapped somewhere in the goblins' main camp. And at the apex of that camp stood the leader commanding the entire settlement—a Hobgoblin.
As Kyle cut off the corpses' ears one by one and placed them in his pouch, he thought.
Hobgoblin. He remembered what the bestiary had said. A mutant leader with high intelligence and overwhelming physical strength. In rare cases, one could even wield mana. If this one could use mana, it would become a more dangerous enemy than any monster Kyle had faced so far.
But danger was also opportunity.
When Kyle fed on the orc, he gained physical strength. When he fed on the goblins, he gained Night Vision and Light Footsteps. If he fed on the Hobgoblin—he might even be able to absorb the seed of power it held within.
I'm hungry.
A familiar pain stirred deep in his stomach.
The curse of Greed was urging him toward his next feeding. The meager vitality of eleven goblins was nowhere near enough to sate the curse's thirst. Intermittent pain rolled through him, as if his stomach were being wrung out. It was still bearable, but Kyle coldly recognized that the intervals between attacks were growing shorter.
Kyle rested the black iron shortsword, blood dripping from its blade, over his shoulder and stared into the depths of the forest where the goblins had vanished.
They would return to the main camp and report to their leader. A hunter had come, not a sacrifice. Then they would prepare their defenses and lay their traps more densely.
That was exactly the picture Kyle wanted.
If they focused on defense, they would have fewer forces available for an attack. The nighttime raids on the village would stop as well. In the meantime, Kyle could circle the forest's outskirts during the day and learn the structure of their territory. The locations of the traps, their patrol routes, the direction of the main camp. After gathering the information he needed for the hunt piece by piece, he would strike the main camp by the most efficient route.
The one who rushes the hunt is the one who loses.
Kyle turned and headed for the cabin.
The moment he left the forest's edge, wind blew from behind him. Carried on it was a faint sound drifting from deep within the forest. A strange noise, like a person's groan or an animal's cry. He couldn't tell whether it came from where the hostages were being held or was a sound made by the forest itself.
Kyle walked with the sound at his back.
When Kyle returned to the cabin, he threw the three goblin corpses sprawled across the floor out through the window and sat on the broken bed.
Dark red blood pooled on the floor and seeped between the wooden slats, filling the cabin with a nauseating, fishy stench. Kyle ignored it and began wiping the bloodstains from the black iron shortsword with an old cloth. The goblin blood clinging to the blade was sticky and difficult to remove. Their blood was mildly toxic. If left on the blade too long, it could corrode the metal.
After carefully wiping the blade with the cloth, Kyle slid it into its sheath and laid it across his thigh.
Two throwing daggers remained. He had driven one into a goblin's mouth inside the cabin and buried the other in the spine of one that had fled. He would have to retrieve them from the corpses tomorrow morning.
Kyle looked down at his bloodstained hands.
Dark red goblin blood had dried between his fingers. His own skin showed beneath it. Since absorbing the orc's vitality, the muscle fibers beneath his skin had developed abnormally. Despite his lean frame, the tendons in his forearms stood out like ropes. This was no human body. It was the body of a beast wearing a human shell.
What am I becoming?
The instant the thought crossed his mind, the [Ironman] trait cut off his emotions. The question sank beneath the surface of his reason. Kyle didn't hold on to it. This was no time for introspection.
Kyle slowly closed his eyes.
In the darkness, the pain in his stomach stirred once more.
Greed demanded stronger prey.
Wait.
Kyle crushed the thirst beneath the reason of Ironman.
Deep in the forest, the king of this settlement was waiting for Kyle.