Re: Tales of the Rune-Tech Sage

Chapter 163: Goblin Raid II

CH163 Goblin Raid II

***

Under the combined assault led by Alex and the Direwolves, the goblin village had suffered heavy losses. The initial fifty-something Hobgoblins had been whittled down to just over thirty.

Now, those remaining Hobgoblins surged after Alex’s vanguard, chasing them under the barked orders of their village chief.

”Scatter!” Alex commanded, his voice cutting sharply through the forest air.

At once, the raid group split into pairs and dashed off in four separate directions, weaving through trees and brush.

”You will not escape!” the Goblin Village Chief howled in its guttural tongue. ”Chase them! Kill them all!”

The Hobgoblins roared in response and split up, albeit in a clumsy and disorganised fashion. Each splinter pursued one of the fleeing pairs in uneven groups.

The largest group, predictably, went after the most tempting prey—Alex, mounted on Fen.

”Looks like we’re the tastiest bait,” Alex chuckled, holding onto Fen’s fur as the wolf bolted through the forest undergrowth. ”What do you say, buddy? Should we show them we’re a piece of meat far too big to swallow?”

Woof~

Both man and wolf flashed matching fierce and wolfish grins. They led a dozen enraged Hobgoblins, including the village chief, deeper into the woods.

Meanwhile, the Direwolf pairs stuck closely to the flexible strategy devised earlier by Alex, Lieutenant Cross, and Laura. Each pair had discretion to adapt on the fly based on how many pursuers they drew.

One such pair, with only five Hobgoblins tailing them, looped around the northern side of the goblin village. They passed through the woods and guided their pursuers toward elevated terrain near the hill where the goblin mine was located.

As the two groups neared the area, a sharp tang hit their nostrils—the thick, metallic scent of blood.

The Hobgoblins slowed, momentarily unsettled by the sudden shift in atmosphere. The Direwolves vanished into the treeline, melting into the forest’s shadows.

The Hobgoblins searched for them, but their prey had disappeared. Instead, they stumbled into a grim sight—a scene of slaughter.

Dozens of goblins lay dead in the undergrowth, riddled with arrows. These were the same lesser kin the Hobgoblins had believed had fled through one of the village’s secret escape paths.

Before they could process the shock, movement flared from the ridgelines.

From among the trees, four archers of Alex’s platoon rose from their concealed positions. Without hesitation, they loosed a volley of arrows.

Ting! Ting!!

The Hobgoblins’ protective barriers deflected the initial shots, but each strike chipped away at the shimmering ward.

”RRAAH!!”

Snarling with fury, the Hobgoblins pushed forward recklessly in their rush to close the distance before their protective barriers fell.

They never saw the second ambush coming.

As they charged headlong up the slope, four Fury Spearmen burst from concealment and stormed downhill with spears raised high.

It was clear from their demeanour—this was an all-or-nothing strike, fuelled by everything they had: momentum, aggression, and sheer resolve.

Each of the four targeted a different Hobgoblin. Seeing this, the archers shifted their aim, focusing all fire on the sole remaining Hobgoblin—the one that seemed to be the heart of the five.

Boom! Pucchi!

The Spearmen charged and crashed into their targets with reckless abandon, putting their entire body weight into thrusting/ramming their spears forward.

The Hobgoblins’ protective barriers flared to life—but only for a heartbeat.

The combined force of gravity, momentum, and fury shattered the barriers. The spears pierced through, skewering the higher-variant goblins clean through.

The Spearmen and their impaled targets tumbled violently down the slope.

Meanwhile, the four Fury Archers unleashed a precise and relentless barrage on the lone Hobgoblin.

Ironically, the closer the Hobgoblin got to them, the stronger the arrows struck. The magical barrier weakened with each hit.

Ten paces from their line, the Hobgoblin finally succumbed. It dropped forward with a shudder, eight arrows buried in its chest. It died on its knees, in eerie silence.

The archers sprinted downhill to check on their comrades. They let out a collective sigh of relief. They were battered and bruised, but alive. The reckless charge hadn’t cost them a life.

All the Hobgoblins were down...

Or so they thought.

Suddenly, one of the fallen stirred.

The Hobgoblin skewered by a spear twitched, then rose shakily, blood leaking from its mouth. It reached out with trembling fingers, dragging its sword from the dirt as it crawled toward the Fury soldiers.

One of the archers raised his bow—

—but before he could loose, a Direwolf rammed into the dying goblin from the side, sending it tumbling.

The beast lunged forward and slashed its throat with a single claw swipe, ending it.

Howl~

The Direwolf howled, triumphant, proud of its kill.

Had Fen been present, he would’ve recognised the enlarged wolf immediately—as the same beast that had stolen his kill at the goblin village.

This time, though, the Fury soldiers didn’t mind.

They were just glad to be alive.

The archers gave the Spearmen a pat on the shoulder, then turned back toward the goblin village.

There was still one last task remaining.

Elsewhere, the Direwolf Alpha and another of its pack were being relentlessly pursued by a group of eight Hobgoblins. Not just any hobgoblins—two among them were the strongest the goblin forces had, second only to the Village Chief.

Much like the troll the Fury Soldiers had faced earlier, these Hobgoblins possessed an innate predatory sense. They could instinctively identify enemies with the highest concentration of internal energy.

Naturally, their attention had locked onto the Alpha Direwolf, the strongest among the direwolves. With bloodlust in their eyes, the two older Hobgoblins took the lead, directing their kin to drive the beasts into a trap.

The Hobgoblins moved like seasoned hunters, herding the Direwolves with precise pressure. Every shift in pace, every veering step, was designed to force the wolves into committing a mistake that would turn fatal.

But these Direwolves were no mere beasts. They recognised the calculated tactics of the hunters and understood they couldn’t outrun their pursuers forever. So, they moved to enact their contingency plan.

Without breaking rhythm, the wolves subtly altered their course. Instead of heading west—where Alex and Fen had gone—they veered southwest.

This wasn’t random.

Not only did it create distance from the Commander’s trail, but it also guided them closer to a pre-prepared safe zone.

As the Hobgoblins drew closer, excitement flooded their ranks. Victory felt within reach. But then—

Thud!

They tripped.

Something had been laid across the path. They all went tumbling. Although they recovered quickly and resumed the chase, the wolves had already widened the gap.

And it didn’t stop there.

A shallow ditch sent them tumbling once more... then it was a slippery sap dripping from above. Afterwards, jagged rocks dug into their feet, making each step more painful than the last.

Every few moments brought a new misfortune.

By the time they reached the southwest quadrant of the forest, the Direwolves had opened a considerable lead.

Then, without warning, the wolves darted into a narrow path wedged between two large rocky outgrowths.

Had the Hobgoblins possessed the tactical mind of their chieftain, they might have noticed the danger of this terrain. A narrow path. Flanked by rocks.

A natural choke point!

But the thrill of the hunt had clouded their judgment.

They surged forward.

The eight Hobgoblins funnelled into the narrow ravine, their protective barriers already weakened by the earlier mishaps. Only once they reached the centre of the rocky corridor, and realised the wolves had vanished, did unease finally settle in.

They slowed, casting glances around.

Then—

Rustle.

They looked up, too late.

Seven silhouettes appeared on the elevated ledges above. Laura and her six archers—the advance team—were already in position.

Without a word, the archers loosed their arrows.

Fwip! Fwip! Fwip!

The first volley struck with deadly precision, shattering the last of the Hobgoblins’ protective barrier.

Then Laura moved.

She leapt.

From above, she dropped like a blade of judgement, her longsword plunging into the neck of the strongest Hobgoblin.

She landed with a crunch, driving the monster to the ground. In the same motion, she twisted her hips and her legs, she pulled her sword from her victim and span into a roundhouse sword slash that took off the heads of two more Hobgoblins.

Blood sprayed in arcs.

By the time the remaining hobgoblins recovered enough to mount a counterattack—

Pucchi!

It was over.

The archers’ second volley felled them in place.

Silence fell.

Laura stood among the fallen, breathing steady, her nose wrinkled in disgust at the putrid goblin stench. She calmly flicked her blade, sending arcs of dark blood splattering onto the rocky ground.

Had Alex been there, he might’ve applauded the execution—a perfect Brotherhood-style assassination manoeuvre.

It was a shame he wasn’t.

Still, the advance team didn’t pause to revel in their victory. There was no time.

They moved on to get in position to complete their other task.

***