"This feeling... this unpleasant feeling... Magic?" Lilya thought.
Her battered body suddenly tensed.
That premonition—
didn't come from the two hobgoblins in front of her.
It came from somewhere else.
From the narrow path through the bushes.
The place where Cecilia was.
The air there felt... wrong.
Not just cold.
It was something that didn't belong to this world.
In front of her, the axe-wielding hobgoblin slowly turned its head. Its yellow eyes narrowed, locking
onto the direction of the bush path. It sniffed.
But it wasn't smelling blood.
Not human scent.
Something else—something that disturbed its instincts.
Behind her—
the hobgoblin with spiked gauntlets stood up again.
It felt it too.
"Grr..."
A low growl escaped.
Then—
without warning—
"GRAAAAAAA!!"
The scream exploded.
The hobgoblin grabbed its own head.
Hard.
Then—
DUK!!
DUK!!
DUK!! DUK!! DUK!!
It smashed its head over and over, blood spraying from its temples.
"...Huh?"
Lilya's eyes narrowed.
[Auto Appraisal]
[Hobgoblin – Lv. 20]
[Status: Berserk]
"Its status... changed?"
At that instant—
the voice appeared.
[Alert]
[Anomaly detected]
[Target entering: Berserk Mode]
[All physical parameters increased]
[Strength +50%]
[Speed +50%]
[Endurance +65%]
[Aggression +50%]
[Mental stability -100%]
A black aura began to seep out of the hobgoblin's body.
From every pore.
From its wounds.
From its eyes.
Like living smoke.
"GRAAAAAAA!!!"
Its scream changed.
No longer pain—
but pure rage.
In front—
the axe-wielding hobgoblin reacted as well.
Its body stiffened.
Its eyes widened—
then it roared.
"GRRRRAAAAAK!!"
A black aura erupted around its body.
[Hobgoblin – Lv. 23]
[Status: Berserk]
[Alert]
[Anomaly detected]
[Target entering: Berserk Mode]
[All physical parameters increased]
[Strength +75%]
[Speed +80%]
[Endurance +75%]
[Aggression +60%]
[Mental stability -100%]
Their roars tore through the forest—raw, wild, filled with madness—just as the last light of dusk faded.
Darkness slowly descended, swallowing the shadows between the trees, replaced by the pale, cold glow of the full moon.
The forest changed.
Quieter.
More... unnatural.
Moments later—
they fell silent.
No more screaming.
No movement.
And that—
made them even more terrifying.
The black aura surrounding them grew denser, more stable. No longer chaotic bursts—
but something fully integrated into their bodies.
That power...
was controlled.
And that made it far more dangerous.
Lilya swallowed.
That bad feeling—
intensified.
"...this is bad..."
But she had no time to think further.
In an instant—
they moved.
From opposite directions.
The axe-wielding hobgoblin lunged from the front—fast, heavy, like a living projectile that shattered the ground with every step.
Meanwhile—
behind her—
the gauntlet-wearing hobgoblin appeared, faster, quieter—like a shadow hunting from her blind spot.
Their eyes—
locked.
Focused on one thing.
Her.
"This is bad—!"
[Quick Step]
Lilya forced her body to move.
A sharp shift—
barely enough.
But enough to avoid a direct collision from the front.
However—
too late for the rear.
DUK!!
The punch slammed into her right shoulder.
Hard.
Brutal.
[Damage Reduction – 35%]
"—ugh!!"
Pain exploded.
Even reduced—
it was devastating.
Her body was thrown back, crashing into a tree trunk with a loud impact.
The air was knocked out of her lungs.
Her vision shook.
But—
she didn't fall.
Her legs held.
Unsteady—
but standing.
"...hah...!"
She coughed up blood.
Warm.
Thick.
Her body trembled violently.
But it wasn't over—
In front—
the axe-wielding hobgoblin raised its weapon.
High.
Into the air.
Its movement… was too precise to be just a wild swing.
And—
a red light appeared.
Flowing.
Wrapping around the blade.
Dense.
Pulsating.
"...that...!"
Lilya's eyes widened.
"That's—"
"A sword skill?!"
Panic crept in.
For the first time—
not from pain.
But from recognition.
That creature—
was using technique.
Not just raw strength.
The hobgoblin laughed.
"Grr... gi...!"
But its eyes—
were empty.
Hollow.
Its grin stretched wide.
Terrifying.
It drew the axe back—
taking a perfect stance.
Like a trained warrior.
"...what can I do...?"
Lilya's thoughts raced.
"...is there a skill to stop that...?"
She knew.
[Sword Slash]—
wouldn't be enough.
Not to counter that.
Distance—
still existed.
She could dodge.
She should be able to.
But—
her body was too damaged.
Her shoulder was wrecked.
Her legs heavy.
The poison still spreading.
Too late.
The axe swung.
But not at her—
from a distance.
A powerful, full-force motion—
and—
the air split.
A wave formed.
Curved.
Dense.
Like an invisible blade—
yet real.
And—
it launched.
Fast.
Too fast.
Cutting through the space between them in silence—
yet carrying pressure strong enough to crack the ground before it even touched.
Lilya's eyes widened.
Her body froze for a fraction of a second.
"...I won't make—"
[Alert]
[Defensive Skill: Flow Guard Lv.100 – Activated]
Instantly—
her body moved.
Not by her command.
Not by conscious thought.
But something inside her—
took over.
Both hands rose.
Reflex.
Precision.
The angle—perfect.
The branch in her hand rotated, following an invisible flow.
Like following a current.
Like reading direction—
not blocking—
but redirecting.
The wave arrived.
—SHHHHHKKK!!
Impact.
But not a direct collision—
a deflection.
The flow was forced to bend.
Most of the energy slid away—
Redirected.
But—
Not all.
"—GH!!"
The remaining force still struck.
Both of Lilya's arms were slashed.
Deep.
Blood sprayed in thin lines from her wrists to near her elbows.
A burning sensation—
spread instantly.
Her body was pushed back half a step—
her legs trembled—
but she endured.
Behind her—
CRAAAAACK!!
The large tree—
split in half.
Cleanly.
Its trunk separated slowly before collapsing to either side with a heavy crash.
BOOM...
Leaves scattered.
Wood dust filled the air.
Silence.
Lilya froze.
Then—
her knees gave out.
She dropped to the ground.
Both legs trembling violently.
Her arms lowered slowly—
blood still dripping from the long wounds.
Her breathing ragged.
Short.
Heavy.
"hhhh...!"
Her chest felt tight.
As if no amount of air was enough.
Her vision darkened at the edges—
but she forced herself to focus.
"...that attack..."
She swallowed.
"...was too strong..."
Her voice hoarse.
Almost breaking.
But clear.
Her hand trembled as she tried to grip the branch again.
Difficult.
Almost slipping.
But she forced it.
In front of her—
the axe-wielding hobgoblin stood still.
Its axe slightly raised—
the red aura still pulsing around it.
Its eyes—
empty.
But its body—
ready.
Behind—
the gauntlet-wearing one moved again.
Slowly.
Closing in.
Not rushing.
Because now—
they knew.
Their prey—
was at her limit.
That ominous feeling—
returned.
Stronger.
Deeper.
[Alert]
[Foreign magical element surge increasing]
Lilya's breath caught.
Her eyes instinctively turned toward the bush path.
Toward—
Cecilia.
"...again...?"
Her heart pounded.
And at that moment—
"GRAAAAAAA!!"
Both hobgoblins screamed at once.
Louder.
Wilder.
More... painful.
Their bodies tensed.
Muscles contracted unnaturally, veins bulging as if about to burst through their skin.
The black aura—
once stable—
now surged again.
Expanding.
Going berserk.
"—gh...!"
Lilya stepped back—
Dragging more than stepping.
Her legs barely responded.
Her instincts screamed.
"Don't... don't tell me..."
Her eyes widened.
"...this magic... is what's making them lose control?!"
The realization hit her.
Cold.
Clear.
Not a coincidence.
Not their natural ability.
This—
was forced.
Triggered.
From outside.
And that meant—
something was there.
Something...
controlling them.
"GRAAAAAK!!"
The axe-wielding hobgoblin lunged first.
Faster than before.
More brutal.
The ground shattered beneath its feet.
Its axe came down—
without pattern.
Without rhythm.
Only destruction.
[Quick Step]
Lilya forced herself to move.
A slight shift.
Barely—
but—
Just enough.
The wind from the swing tore her cheek.
Blood flowed.
But she didn't stop.
Behind—
the gauntlet one was already there.
A straight punch.
Fast.
No room to react.
"—!"
[Flow Guard]
Her hands moved reflexively.
Redirecting—
Not blocking.
DUK!!
Impact still came.
Her body was pushed back.
Her shoulder screamed in pain.
But she endured.
"...too fast...!"
She countered.
The branch flashed.
[Sword Slash]
—SHHK!!
It hit.
Cleanly.
Deep.
Blood sprayed from the axe hobgoblin's side.
The massive body staggered.
One step back—
Two—
But—
stopped.
The wound—
moved.
Closing.
Slowly.
Flesh reconnected as if forced.
The blood stopped.
The mark—
disappeared.
Lilya froze.
"...what...?"
Her breath caught.
"...that's not normal regeneration..."
Impossible.
That didn't belong to a hobgoblin.
Not even at this level.
Behind—
another punch came.
DUK!!
This time hitting her side.
"—AAH!!"
Pain exploded.
Her body staggered.
But she remained standing.
Barely.
She turned.
[Chain Strike]
Two quick blows.
Wrist.
Elbow.
Crack.
The joint faltered—
But—
not enough.
The hobgoblin merely flinched—
then attacked again.
No hesitation.
No pain.
As if its body—
didn't care.
"...impossible..."
Lilya stepped back.
Her breathing chaotic.
Her eyes trembling—
not from panic.
But—
understanding.
"...[auto heal]...?"
"...that should be..."
Her thoughts pieced things together.
"...a high-tier racial ability..."
High Ogre.
Goblin Shaman.
Goblin King.
Goblin General.
Not—
a normal hobgoblin.
Impossible.
"...so this means..."
Her gaze shifted to the bush path.
Deeper.
Sharper.
"...they're being controlled..."
The answer surfaced.
Cold.
Unavoidable.
"...by something stronger than them..."
Both hobgoblins attacked again.
Simultaneously.
From two directions.
Faster.
More brutal.
No space.
No breathing room.
[Quick Step]
Too late.
The axe cut her shoulder.
Deep.
A punch hit her stomach.
Air burst from her lungs.
"—GH!!"
Her body was thrown back.
Her steps faltered.
She almost fell.
But—
she endured.
Yet every attack—
was useless.
Every wound she made—
disappeared.
Every opening—
closed.
As if she were fighting something—
that couldn't be worn down.
"...at this rate..."
Her breath was heavy.
"...I can't win..."
That reality—
was clear.
But worse than that—
far worse.
She wasn't fighting two hobgoblins.
She was fighting—
something behind them.
And that something—
had yet to reveal itself.
Only—
watching.
Controlling.
From far beyond.
Meanwhile, night wind began to descend upon the village.
Cold.
Slipping through the wooden houses, swaying the oil lamps hanging from porches, making their shadows dance uneasily across the ground.
At the village square—
people gathered.
More than usual.
No laughter.
No casual chatter like other nights.
Only whispers.
Uneasy.
Waiting.
Several women stood close together, holding hands, trying to calm each other as their eyes kept drifting toward the path leading into the forest.
Children were not allowed outside.
Tonight felt... wrong.
At the center of the crowd—
the village chief stood, his face tense.
His arms were crossed, but his jaw was tight, his eyes fixed on the direction of the forest.
Too long.
It had been too long since those two girls left.
And hadn't returned.
"...any news?" one villager asked softly, full of hope.
The chief shook his head.
"No."
The short answer fell heavily.
Some lowered their heads.
Others bit their lips.
The same fear—
began to settle among them.
An old man sighed deeply.
"They should've been back before dark..."
No one argued.
Because everyone knew it was true.
At the edge of the crowd—
Rasa stood.
Her hands clenched tightly in front of her chest.
Her nails digging into her skin without her realizing.
Her eyes unblinking—
locked onto the dark path leading into the forest.
"...Cecilia..."
"Lilya..."
"I hope... nothing happened to both of you..."
Nearby—
several women lowered their heads.
Praying silently.
Meanwhile—
on the other side of the village—
armed men stood.
Not a small number.
Spears.
Axes.
Simple swords.
Faces hardened by farm work—
now filled with tension.
One of them stepped forward.
"Harlan still hasn't returned?"
The village chief turned.
Shook his head again.
"No."
The man clicked his tongue.
"Damn..."
All eyes turned toward the forest.
Dark.
Silent.
As if swallowing sound.
Harlan—
along with some of the strongest men—
had entered the forest since the afternoon.
Searching.
Relentlessly.
Yet—
they hadn't returned.
No word.
And that—
was not a good sign.
The night wind blew again.
The oil lamps swayed harder.
Shadows twisted wildly on the ground.
Someone in the crowd whispered—
"...should we go after them?"
A few heads lifted.
But the chief immediately shook his head firmly.
"No."
His tone was sharper now.
Certain.
"If we go in unprepared... we'll only add more victims."
Silence fell again.
No one could argue.
But—
that didn't ease their anxiety.
If anything—
it made it worse.
Because now—
all they could do was wait.
Wait in the growing cold of night.
Wait without certainty.
Wait—
to see whether the people they loved would return...
or not.