Who Says I'm Not a Proper Adventurer?
Chapter 12: First Battle

Chapter 12: Chapter 12: First Battle

The numbers on his retina flashed wildly.

Soon.

The environmental stability plummeted below the fifty percent mark, and the once-vibrant green numbers instantly turned a jarring crimson.

Faint, ragged breaths could be heard from among the dense, towering trees all around.

And with them, a sharp, grating squawk, like nails on a chalkboard.

The sounds weren’t loud, but they were enough to make one’s skin crawl.

Hearing this, however, Lance let out a sigh of relief.

’That’s the distinctive cry of Goblins.’

According to the Illustrated Guide, these creatures have an exceptionally keen sense of smell and a near-pathological fixation on the scent of blood and rot.

’Looks like the scent I picked up while gathering sap or moss gave away my position.’

Now that he was on alert, Lance’s 6-point Perception Attribute immediately kicked in.

His hawk-like gaze swept the area, and he soon spotted something amiss in a nearby thicket.

A few dark green shadows lurked there, their color starkly out of place against the vibrant green of the surrounding foliage.

’Two priorities right now.’

’First, assess their numbers.’

’Second, pick the most advantageous ground to fight on.’

Chapter Three of the Newcomer’s Guide to Adventuring stated clearly: when encountering a small band of Goblins alone, one must immediately find favorable terrain. Never allow them to use their numbers to surround you in an open area.

Out of the corner of his eye, Lance spotted an alcove in the cliff face not far behind him.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he raised his Round Shield and began a steady retreat, slowly backing toward the cliff.

The Goblins hiding in the shadows seemed to sense their prey’s intent.

They stopped hiding and burst from the bushes, letting out ear-piercing howls as they charged.

This was a standard Goblin hunting tactic: use noise to create panic and force their prey to expose a weakness in their terror.

In the sunlight filtering through the canopy, Lance finally got his first clear look at these Demons of legend.

They stood only as high as an adult’s waist, their skin a sickly dark green and covered in wrinkles and pustules.

Large, pointed ears flopped on either side of their bald heads. Their eyes were a cloudy yellow, and their mouths were filled with crooked, yellow fangs.

Fortunately.

This Goblin party was only four strong, and they were armed with nothing more than sharpened wooden sticks and crude Beast Bone Staffs.

Lance’s tension eased somewhat.

These were the grunts among grunts, the lowest tier of cannon fodder in Goblin society.

Seeing Lance maintain his defensive posture as he retreated, the four Goblins halted, picked up rocks from the ground, and hurled them at him.

THUD! THUD!

Several fist-sized stones whistled through the air.

Lance’s Perception was high enough for him to track the trajectory of the not-so-fast projectiles.

He would slightly sidestep or adjust the angle of his Round Shield.

The stones slammed into the cowhide-covered Wooden Shield, letting out a dull thud and sending a slight numbness up Lance’s arm.

These little creatures were far stronger than their scrawny bodies suggested.

It was then that Lance discovered a fatal flaw in his equipment.

’I don’t have a ranged weapon.’

’My inexperience made me careless. If I had a Crossbow right now, or even just a few Flying Knives, I could have counterattacked between their volleys and ended this fight much faster.’

’I’ll have to get one next time.’

As Lance analyzed the situation in his head, he continued his methodical retreat.

He had originally planned to lure them into charging him at the cliff wall for close-quarters combat.

But he discovered he had underestimated the cunning of these Demons.

They were dim-witted, but not completely mindless beasts.

The Goblins seemed to have noticed that Lance’s armor hindered his movement, and they actually intended to use their rock-throwing tactic to exhaust him completely.

Unfortunately for them.

They had run into a cheater.

Lance adjusted his breathing rhythm as he continued to block and retreat.

With every breath, the minuscule amount of stamina he expended was instantly replenished.

This continued until Lance had backed up all the way to the hard rock face.

The Goblins had been throwing rocks for ages without so much as scratching Lance. In fact, they had only succeeded in tiring themselves out. They were bent over, panting heavily, tongues nearly lolling out of their mouths.

They stared at the Adventurer before them, who was fully armored, his face hidden behind Face Armor, and whose breathing hadn’t even faltered.

Anger at being toyed with began to brew in their walnut-sized brains.

In their eyes, this human was like a turtle hiding in an iron shell.

"REEEAGH!!"

The lead Goblin let out a piercing shriek.

They raised their crude weapons, howling to build their courage as they charged forward.

They were used to fanning out for flanking ambushes, but with Lance’s back to the cliff and his sides blocked by scattered rocks, they were forced to resort to the most idiotic tactic: a direct frontal assault.

Closer.

Five meters. Three meters.

The expression in the eyes of Lance, who had remained on the defensive, suddenly turned cold.

Faced with the Wooden Spear lunging at him, he chose not to block it passively.

Instead, he took a sharp step forward, using his body’s momentum to slam his Round Shield forward like an iron wall.

BAM!

The immense impact sent the two lead Goblins off-balance, and they tumbled to the ground like scattered gourds.

In that instant.

The Fine Steel Short Sword in Lance’s right hand, long held in waiting, shot out like a striking viper.

The essence of Castro Swordsmanship was this very kind of vicious thrust, perfected for close-quarters combat in muddy trenches.

Now, with his Skill Level at a high Level 3, the thrust was as fast as a thunderclap.

The tip of the sword plunged precisely into the nearest Goblin’s face.

SQUELCH.

Foul-smelling, dark green blood sprayed out.

The Goblin died on the spot without so much as a scream.

Expressionless, Lance planted a heavy kick on the corpse’s chest, using the leverage to yank his Short Sword free.

He then immediately pulled back his shield and retreated, once again assuming his impregnable defensive stance.

His composure was unnerving.

The other Goblin that had fallen beside it scrambled to its feet, the hand gripping its Beast Bone Staff trembling. It no longer dared to let out the arrogant howls from before.

They were ferocious, but even they were stunned by such a clean, instantaneous kill.

What better time to run than now?

But Lance knew full well that these creatures preyed on the weak and feared the strong. If you let them escape, they would hide in the shadows like flies, constantly harassing and tormenting you.

That was why Adventurers had only one principle for dealing with Goblins: leave no survivors.

In the instant the three remaining Goblins hesitated, debating whether to advance or retreat...

Lance moved.

He was no longer on the defensive. He led with his shield, launching into a short and ferocious charge.

The edge of his Shield viciously batted aside the wooden stick in his path.

This was followed by a standard military thrust.

The second one fell.

Next came a powerful horizontal sweep, followed by a downward thrust as a finishing blow.

The third.

Lance quickly caught up to the last Goblin as it fled and plunged his Short Sword into its back.

In less than ten seconds.

The once-noisy clearing fell silent, leaving only the dying wail of the last Goblin.