A group of goblins walked onwards. They were following a single trail of footprints. Although they didn't have enough brains to understand whose footprints they were...

  But they could at least understand that it was a human's track.

  There were twenty-two of them. They formed a loose rank, carefully following the footprints while cackling among themselves.

  Each of them was armed with a myriad of weapons.

  Some were holding clubs made of tree branches. Some had rusty spears, swords, or daggers. Most likely possessions of other "hunters" that they had hunted some time ago.

  But still, more than half of them were empty-handed.

  "Keek! Chieek!"

  The goblin at the lead raised its voice, a high-pitched cry. It figured that they were getting closer to their targets, as the scent started to get thicker—the scent of blood.

  The rest of the pack, as if copying the first one, also raised high-pitched cries.

  They looked excited. As if they want to finally sink their teeth into the woman whom they had playfully let go.

  Soon, they arrived at a small clearing. The sky was unobstructed. Dark clouds rained down on them, showering them with cold rain.

  Right in the middle of it was a gray patch, one made out of solid concrete.

  "Keek!"

  The goblins grinned, seeing a patch of red on top of it. Blood. Their target's blood.

  They rushed forward excitedly, before stopping right in the middle of the bunker's cover. They stood there, all twenty-one of them...

  "Kek?"

  One of them noticed something was wrong.

  That goblin scanned its allies, but unfortunately didn't know how to count. If it could, then the fact that two of them were now missing would become obvious.

  "Kieeek!"

  One of the goblins noticed that its buddy was gone. It raised a cry while looking around, walking toward the bushes in search. But then, a shadow flashed. It pulled the goblin into the cover of a nearby tree. Its feeble cry for help died out against the sound of rain.

  By then, the goblins still weren't aware of what was happening.

  They were preoccupied with the mysterious construct before them. The place where the small pool of blood gathered.

  Six of them gathered around the hatch's wheel, kicking at it and hitting it with their weapons. The loud echoes of metal striking metal filled the forest for a good while.

  About a minute later, when they were getting tired of hitting the hatch, they raised their heads and looked around...

  But now, their numbers were visibly less than before.

  From twenty-two, only thirteen were left!

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  They didn't hear a thing. They saw nothing weird around them. Nothing alerted them to their allies' plight. But right then and there, they realized.

  At that moment, they weren't the hunters anymore.

  They were the prey.

  "KIEEK!"

  The leader-like goblin raised a cry, gathering everyone else around it. They formed a loose circle, with five in the middle and the rest around them.

  All of them faced outwards, looking through the shadows of trees and shrubs, searching for "something." Anything at all. Their senses were focused, ears honed to listen to all sounds coming from around them.

  Then, suddenly, they heard something. The sound of something dropping on a watery patch.

  All the goblins turned toward the left, to where the sound came from. Their eyes glazed and filled with frenzy, but they only saw a ripple on a nearby puddle. Not even a shadow of their "enemy" was seen.

  The same kind of sound echoed once again, this time, a little further to their right. This time, they saw a small shadow... a pebble, hitting the water and making ripples.

  Their anger flared after realizing this. They were being played for fools!

  "KIEEEK?!"

  But just when they returned to paying attention around them, they noticed something else. Of the remaining thirteen... five were lying on the ground where they previously stood.

  Their necks had deep cuts. Deep enough that their heads almost fell off.

  They heard nothing at all. Not even their friends falling to the watery forest ground. It was as if the deaths of their allies were being removed from their senses by a mystical power.

  The remaining goblins started to feel a foreign sensation. A cold feeling, as if something was grabbing their spines.

  The chilling sensation of fear.

  They moved fast, standing in a circle.

  Instinctively, they knew that losing sight of each other could pose a threat, so instead of facing outward, they faced inward, watching each other.

  This way, nobody should be able to sneak up on them without getting detected!

  But that was just in theory.

  The longer they stood there, the more fear consumed them. Their bodies trembled, and their eyes darted left and right. They started to react to even the smallest sounds they heard—even the sound of their own heartbeats.

  Just when their fear was about to reach its peak—the breaking point before panic began—another sound reached their ears. No, it wasn't one, but multiple. Splatters came in eight directions, all around them.

  The goblins facing the other direction saw pebbles raining down and realized it was a trap. But they also heard a noise behind them, making them reflexively spin around warily.

  They thought that the real enemy was behind them.

  This very same reaction happened to all eight of them.

  They ditched protecting their allies, all to try and secure their individual safety. An action less than that of a herd animal. A decision that, in essence, brought their fated end.

  A shadow descended, jumping down from a nearby branch and landing right in their middle.

  His arrival was timed almost at the same instant that everyone turned to look away. Almost as if they were forbidden from looking in his direction.

  Upon landing, he lowered his stance and spun. The two daggers gleamed, droplets cut in half, while dark green blood splashed around.

  All eight goblins fell with heavy thuds, the backs of their necks cut through.

  It was a clean cut that even dug through their spines. A wound that wouldn't let anyone survive through it.

  "That's twenty-two..." The shadow sighed as he straightened up.

  It was, of course, Lucian.

  Like an assassin, he lingered through the shadows.

  Taking advantage of the lapse in the goblins' attention—and combined with misdirection—he reduced their numbers slowly, but surely.

  "But this was harder than I expected..." Lucian wiped the raindrops falling into his eyes. "These goblins have too few blind spots. I had to make openings myself..."

  Although he complained, he did succeed in the end.

  Twenty-two goblins killed in under 10 minutes!

  "System open."

  Unable to sit still, he opened his system and checked.

  And there, he confirmed his initial guess. For killing twenty-two goblins, his Lifespan increased by 110 days! That's about five days of addition for every goblin he killed!

  It was quite a big haul, but he wasn't satisfied with it just yet.

  In terms of [Life], having more would never hurt.

  Lucian lingered outside the bunker for a few more hours. However, unlike his expectations, only five more goblins came. They weren't even a threat.

  Soon enough, the dark skies got even darker, and the temperature suddenly began dropping like a rock. His breath turned pure white every time he exhaled.

  With these signs, he could tell. Nightfall was approaching.