Goblin Heavy Dependence

Chapter 274 Gurgle

"No, it wasn't me... I didn't!"

The astonished looks from her teammates left Celie pale and somewhat incoherent.

She wanted to explain to her teammates that it wasn't due to carelessness, but rather that some unknown, invisible force had been specifically applied to her feet for a brief moment, causing her to lose her balance.

Otherwise, with the added advantage of her specialty [Silent Stealth], she would never have made such a mistake in the current situation.

But at this moment, nothing she said would make a difference, and there was absolutely no time left for her to explain.

The moment my right foot landed suddenly and uncontrollably, making a clear footstep sound on the silent field.

Battle was then unavoidable.

"Ho ho..."

The sticky, guttural sounds echoed and overlapped in the air as the six desiccated corpses all turned to look at the Bloodblade Squad.

And with a seemingly slow, but actually tense and uneasy posture, they quickly surrounded the group.

As the team's ranged archer, Celie, still somewhat flustered, instinctively took two steps back and hid behind her teammates the moment the battle began, thanks to muscle memory.

Roar--

No longer trying to lower its voice, a roar filled with rage resounded from the large mouth between its two upper fangs, accompanied by the trembling of its throat and neck.

The rapidly expanding muscles stretched the light green skin to its limit, and a layer of fiery red, symbolizing rage, seeped from the pores and spread visibly over the orc's massive body.

Gorger was at the very front of the group, the sturdy handle of the huge iron-inlaid wooden club creaking under his large hands.

"Bloodblade" Marcus reacted the fastest. The moment the footsteps sounded behind him, he had already drawn the two gleaming scimitars from his waist. The light whistling of the blades tearing through the air echoed in the gust of wind stirred up by his swinging arm.

Meanwhile, the mountain dwarf "Stonebelly," who had been trailing at the back of the group, also stepped forward quickly, only two steps behind the orc. His sturdy, short body stood firmly on the ground like a tree stump, and the sharp, huge axe blade flashed above his head.

They may possess all the vile traits of adventurers in this world: oppressing the common people, indulging in gambling and drinking, and being greedy and cunning.

On the other hand, what has sustained these people through countless dangerous missions, allowing them to humiliate ordinary people without fear of retaliation, to play cards until dawn at will, and to plot and carry out evil schemes against valuable targets, is...

It is the professionalism, teamwork, and discipline that the Bloodblade Squad demonstrated during the mission, and the rich experience and formidable combat power of each member of the team as a seasoned adventurer.

No one chose to run away at that moment.

Of course, it wasn't because of reasons like "friendship," which are utterly ridiculous to them.

Rather, it was a comprehensive consideration of the potentially substantial income from continuing deeper into Ashenvale, the possibility of escaping alone, and the consequences of the backstabbing.

With a less-than-praiseworthy tacit understanding, the four of them made the decision almost simultaneously at the start of the battle: to fight as a team rather than to run away individually.

Furthermore, they also made judgments at the same time on the unstable factors on the field that could actually cause losses to the team.

They quickly formed a formation, and while keeping an eye on the mummified corpses approaching them, their attention was all focused on the huge, obese figure in the center of the arena.

"Kara."

Cracks spread rapidly across the marble surface of the fountain pool, from which sticky, foul-smelling sludge slowly oozed.

Tremor.

It is the viscous ripples stirred up by the giant within the sludge, the trembling and writhing of the abdominal fat from the sagging cysts, and the dirty armor stretched to its limit, unable to bear the weight and showing signs of breaking apart.

Amidst heavy, sticky breathing, a massive, uneasy shadow slowly rose from the mud.

The cloudy, greasy, yellowish eyes shifted slightly through the black gaps in the mask, turning towards the four uninvited guests on the field.

"boom!"

The metal flail in his hand left a blur in the air.

The pool, which had withstood countless storms over endless years, instantly transformed into a jumble of rubble laden with foul sludge, which hurtled toward the Bloodblade Squad ahead.

His pupils contracted sharply, and the two curved blades danced around him with impenetrable force, blocking all the rubble that was aimed at him and Cecilia behind him.

Marcus had a bad feeling.

Although it was just a casual glance, he undoubtedly sensed the terrifying power of the obese knight in front of him, which far surpassed that of the others.

The entire Bloodblade squad, including Stonebelly and Gorger, had no one who could withstand such a blow head-on.

We must absolutely not force a fight!

Marcus's mind raced, and in the blink of an eye, he had already made a decision.

"Gorg, go up and hold that knight back!"

He shouted to the orc at the very front of the line in front of him.

"Be careful of their attacks, and don't get hit head-on."

"Shi Fu, come with me and take care of those mummies around here. Be quick and clear the area before we work together to deal with this big guy."

"Ciri, provide support from the rear. Remember to keep an eye on your surroundings and watch out for enemy ambushes."

"Gorg, charge!!!"

boom--

As soon as he finished speaking, the burly figure covered in red light shot out like a hunting dog that had been released from its leash.

A pair of powerful feet pounded cracks in the ground.

Gorger only heard the first and last sentences of Marcus's battle plan, which he presented in a short time.

His already not-so-bright mind became even more foolish under the surge of barbarian rage within him.

Being able to stand still and wait for Marcus to give the order before taking action was the limit of what he could do.

Naturally, it would be impossible to spare the mental energy to think about the other party's intentions in making such an arrangement during such a tense moment.

In the instant his feet left the ground and his body was briefly suspended in mid-air by the powerful burst of force, only one thought remained in his mind—

"Gorg, I'm going to smash your head in!"

As it turns out, mere ideas without matching strength are insufficient for the orc to realize his unrealistic expectations.

The iron-inlaid wooden club, whose thickest part was comparable to the waist of an adult male, ultimately failed to land on the knight's helmet.

Rather, it was because of the opponent's explosive power, which was far beyond what was expected of his large physique, that he was slightly dodged and landed on the knight's abdomen.

This was a bizarre experience that Gorger had never had before.

Under the grip of the muscular, veiny arms, the first thing to collide with the iron-inlaid wooden club was the metal armor on the surface of the knight's belly, which seemed to be embedded in the fat.

"Boom!"

A dull, resonant sound, like the tolling of a bell, burst forth in the air.

Gorger was no stranger to this; he had encountered enemies clad in heavy armor, resembling metal cans, before.

He certainly acknowledged the defensive capabilities of these guys who wore iron plates; some had such good armor that even a full-force strike from him could only leave a dent on the metal surface.

However, the side effect of their strong defensive capabilities is their excessively slow movement speed.

And if you were to seize the opportunity, you could strike him hard on the forehead or chest with the big iron bar in your hand.

No matter how sturdy the armor, the blood and bones protected inside are like a shaken egg, reduced to a puddle of flesh. But right now, the situation is different.

The knight's armor remained sturdy even as it was deformed, which was within Gorg's expectations.

However, at the same time, the massive belly that protrudes high above the metal plate below, with its thick fat in the folds of flesh and purplish-blue veins, demonstrates a defensive capability far more terrifying than the armor.

The iron-inlaid wooden stick that landed on it, with enough force to completely crush an ordinary human being, was instantly swallowed up by the fat and thick flesh and disappeared without a trace.

Even though I had exerted all my strength, there was no feedback other than the sound when I hit it; all my force seemed to sink into the sea without ever falling.

Even the orc's head, which was now delirious from the surge of rage and operating solely on instinct, froze for a moment.

The next second, what brought Gorger back to reality was the sharp whistling sound of a heavy object tearing through the air, and the deafening alarm bells ringing in his mind.

A beast-like survival instinct made Gorg instinctively turn his body around.

The metal flail that should have smashed straight into his head only grazed past him.

It didn't take his life... it only took half an arm and a large chunk of flesh from his waist.

His burly body was thrown to the side by the momentum of the flail being swung.

In mid-air, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a familiar, sharp shadow suddenly flash by, transforming into a long arrow that precisely pierced the gap in the knight's visor.

Although it wasn't enough to render him incapable of fighting on the spot, it did leave his bulky body frozen in place for a moment.

"Yes! Gorger has teammates!"

The rapidly fading life force, the stinging pain, and the furious power flowing out with the blood caused the orc's mind to start functioning again.

The plan that squad leader Marcus had previously devised also clearly came to mind.

"Hold on a little longer. Once the dwarf and the captain have cleared out those small fry, Gorger will be able to..."

My thoughts drifted halfway through before suddenly coming to a halt.

The orc lying on the cold ground saw three figures who, while he was drawing the enemy's attention, had quietly slipped to the other side of the square and were quickly disappearing into the depths of the mist.

All that remained for him was the black fletching of the arrow, piercing straight into the knight's visor, and the cold, cruel gaze of the human ranger at the back of the column, who, in the last second before disappearing into the thick fog, cast upon him without a trace of emotion.

Realizing that he seemed to have been used as bait and then abandoned, an indescribable anger welled up inside him.

The special rage power granted by the Barbarian class quickly masked his current weakness, pain, and numbness.

The injuries did not heal, but the body seemed to temporarily forget the fact that it was "seriously injured" under the surge of anger.

His still-intact right arm bulged as he braced himself against the ground, and his powerful body, enveloped in crimson energy, was about to rise from the ground and return to battle mode.

The flail, gleaming with a cold metallic sheen, once again swung upwards with terrifying force.

This time, the orc was hit in the waist.

The angry flames that had just gathered, along with Gorger's spiritual will, were instantly shattered, turning into powerless, falling light fragments.

The blood-splattered body flew high into the air like a tattered sack, spinning and rolling to the ground.

The intense pain was fleeting, and Gorger was once again shielded from the pain.

However, this time it wasn't a desperate gamble, but rather the result of the Barbarian's rage power.

Rather, it is the body's instinctive protective mechanism against excessively severe injuries before death.

Consciousness gradually blurred.

Suddenly, scenes from the past flashed before Gorger's eyes, even those memories that had long been forgotten, now appearing incredibly clear.

This should be a sign that the elders in the tribe have mentioned before, indicating that the soul is about to leave the body when the body is near death.

At this moment, he could even hear the sharp breaths squeezing out of the gaps in the helmet of the fat knight in front of him, and feel the subtle vibrations of blood and mud flowing on the ground.

"despair."

At that very moment, the Bloodblade Squad arrived from behind.

A strange set of footsteps, making no attempt to conceal its presence, suddenly rang out in the thick fog.

"who is it?"

Gorger was instinctively puzzled.

But all that responded to him was the inexplicably swirling and billowing mist, and a long, high-pitched wolf howl.

pitch black.

A terrifying darkness, seemingly emanating from an abyss, spread silently as the mane swayed.

Filled with powerful explosive force, the long and elegant limbs lightly touched the ground, yet as if in an illusion, they left no trace.

Its wolf-like eyes were deep and cold, like a deep valley or a secluded pool.

With his gaze fixed on the terrifying black shadow that loomed in and out of the thick fog, Gorger felt as if his consciousness itself was frozen by the inexplicable surge of boundless fear.

"Wolf?"

The dark figure vanished in an instant.

Instead, a sudden, loud, and abruptly stopped muffled voice came from behind;
Accompanied by the sizzling sound of burning objects and the slurring sound of sharp objects cutting through flesh.

boom--

It seemed as if something heavy had fallen, causing the ground to tremble slightly.

"Gululu..."

Blood gushed forth, and metal collided and rubbed against the ground.

It's the sound of a ball rolling on the ground.

Gorger saw once again the long arrow from the ranger "Ciri," piercing straight into the gap in the knight's visor.

It was also the first time I had seen the fat knight's murky, yellowish-brown eyes up close.

The mud-covered helmet still covered his face, but his head had already separated from his neck.

It rolled on the ground until it hit its own bloodied and mangled abdomen, finally coming to a stop.

"despair."

Footsteps sounded again.

Gradually approaching.

As if surprised by his remaining consciousness, the sound of the sword being sheathed halfway through its fall suddenly stopped.

Unsheathed.

The blade whistled past.

Gorger's perspective scrolls and rotates.

The last glimmer of light was swallowed by darkness.

(End of this chapter)