Who Says I'm Not a Proper Adventurer?
Chapter 30: Goblin War Chief

Chapter 30: Chapter 30: Goblin War Chief

"Say that again?!"

Lance grabbed the Adventurer in front of him by the collar, his voice filled with disbelief.

The first thing the Adventurer said had already shocked him.

Startled by Lance’s sudden move, the Adventurer stumbled, nearly falling to the ground.

In the mottled sunlight filtering through the canopy, Lance finally got a clear look at the other man’s wretched state.

The man’s gear was clearly superior to Lance’s own cobbled-together outfit. He wore a finely crafted Iron-Plated Chain Armor, but a massive dent had been smashed into the chest plate, as if by some enormous blunt weapon. Several iron rings had snapped and were now embedded deep in his flesh.

Though the wound had been crudely bandaged, seeping blood still stained half of his body. The smell of iron hung heavy in the air, intensifying with each of his ragged breaths.

As Lance shouted, the man’s previously unfocused eyes sharpened slightly.

"You... You’re the one who was with Damian this morning?"

The Adventurer recognized Lance.

"I mean, something’s happened... Everything’s a mess."

"The intel was wrong! That wasn’t an ordinary Goblin nest!"

As he spoke, the imposing, well-built man’s voice filled with regret and self-recrimination.

"It was a trap! We were surrounded the moment we entered the valley. They were led by a mutated Goblin War Chief! That monster actually knew tactics!"

"Our party was scattered, and our captain was wounded... That fool Damian, he and the captain split up to act as decoys and lead the pursuers away. He ran toward the stream!"

His distress wasn’t just from the disastrous failure of the mission, but also from the shame of being powerless to save his comrades, forced to flee in disgrace.

Lance didn’t interrupt, instead calmly asking several key questions about the enemy’s numbers and configuration.

After getting a few halting answers, Lance released his grip on the man’s shoulders.

He clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles cracked.

Then, he pointed back the way he had come that morning.

"Follow this path. It’s safe for now. You should be able to make it out alive."

The injured Adventurer stared at him, stunned.

He looked up, first at Lance, then in the direction he was pointing, his gaze finally returning to Lance, confused.

"You... you’re not retreating with me?"

The man’s eyes swept over Lance’s light Leather Armor and the gathering pack on his back.

"You’re just a Gathering Adventurer, aren’t you? It’s a total warzone deeper in the forest. Even our squad couldn’t handle it. You’ll just be throwing your life away!"

Lance didn’t answer.

His hand drifted unconsciously to his waist, fingertips brushing against the ugly, twisted Protective Talisman woven from coarse blue cord.

The rough texture under his fingers had a strange calming effect on his agitated heart.

"Which way did Damian go?"

The injured Adventurer opened his mouth, staring at the hooded man before him. He finally raised a hand and pointed into the dense thicket to the southeast.

"That way... Follow the stream downstream."

Lance nodded, tightened the Short Bow on his back, and without a moment’s hesitation, turned and headed in that direction.

Watching that determined figure walk back into the fray, the injured Adventurer felt his throat go dry.

An indescribable emotion struck him, and he couldn’t help but shout:

"You’re going to die!"

Lance didn’t turn back, merely raising a hand in a high wave.

"Then you make sure you don’t. Enough people have died today."

Before his voice had even faded, his figure vanished into the shadows of the trees.

As he ran, Lance’s breathing remained steady.

’This isn’t some suicidal impulse.’

The moment he heard the words "Goblin War Chief" from the routed soldier, all the relevant information from the Monster Atlas surfaced in his mind.

It was an extremely rare mutation. Though only slightly more robust than an ordinary Goblin, its intelligence was terrifyingly high.

They not only knew how to enslave their own kind, but had even learned to use tactics and traps to hunt humans.

Damian’s party had clearly been deceived by the Goblins’ seemingly loose perimeter and had walked right into a well-laid ambush.

’That idiot.’

Lance couldn’t help but snort to himself as he sped through the jungle.

’I told him to survive like a cockroach, and what does he do? He turns around and plays the Hero.’

But his pace only quickened.

With [Hevagmir’s Boiling], he didn’t need to worry about conserving stamina, allowing him to maintain a full sprint the entire way.

’You’d better not die.’

...

「Deep within Copper Creek Forest, beside a nameless stream.」

The suffocating stench of blood filled the air over a wide, pebbled shoal.

CLANG!

The crisp ring of metal on metal.

Gritting his teeth, Damian barely blocked a Nail-studded Wooden Staff with his Two-Handed Longsword.

The immense force of the blow made his hands go numb, and his legs sank into the soft gravel.

He wasn’t being swarmed by scrawny, ordinary Goblins, but by four or five hulking Goblin Barbarian Soldiers.

These were units specially trained by the War Chief, capable of basic tactical coordination.

They wielded thick Round Wooden Shields in their left hands and heavy, nail-studded clubs in their right, advancing and retreating in a coordinated, interlocking defense.

Whenever Damian tried to counter one, the other two would immediately raise their shields, boxing him in and forcing him back on the defensive.

Worse still, lurking behind these Barbarian Soldiers were three insidious Goblin Spear Throwers.

SWOOSH—

The sound of something slicing through the air came again.

Damian scrambled into a roll, barely dodging a short spear that grazed his scalp.

His situation was dire.

Seven or eight Goblin corpses lay scattered across the shoal—the fruits of his desperate last stand.

The group chasing him had originally numbered only a dozen or so.

But as he’d been forced back into this dead-end clearing, more Goblin Scouts on patrol had been drawn by the noise and joined the hunt.

Now, the number of enemies surrounding him hadn’t dwindled; it had grown even larger than before.

In addition to the four or five Goblin Barbarian Soldiers leading the assault, more than a dozen Goblin Scouts were now forming an encirclement.

HUFF... HUFF...

Damian’s chest heaved violently. Each breath sounded like a worn-out bellows, and his throat was filled with the taste of blood.

To break out of the initial encirclement, he had forced himself to use the Breathing Combat Technique, which he had yet to fully master.

The explosive technique had granted him a short-term burst of power, but it had also completely drained his stamina.

Now, he was feeling the backlash.