Chapter 42: The Elf Feigns Retreat, Luring the Enemy

Description

Elves and goblins have been an enduring pairing in human artists’ hands since ancient times.

Countless quality paintings depict stories of proud elves falling into filthy goblin nests, most ending with the elf’s gradual corruption.

But Astraea only wanted to slaughter every goblin in front of her right now.

With enhancement magic, the little elf’s physical prowess rivaled that of a human knight. Simply piling up numbers would mean that no matter how many ordinary goblins came, they would be nothing more than a single sword stroke for her.

The real trouble was the two hobgoblins and the goblin mage constantly harassing her with spells.

Astraea deflected Hobgoblin A’s attack with her sword and immediately wanted to pursue and finish it off, but then Hobgoblin B, who had moved behind her, swung a club at her back. Unable to take that hit, Astraea had to dodge away. And when she tried to strike Hobgoblin B before it could retract its club, the goblin mage Gajiga’s spell would appear right beside her, forcing her to dodge again…

With this back-and-forth, Astraea, enhanced by her magic, could tire out the hobgoblins until they were panting. But soon, Hobgoblin C, who had been guarding Gajiga, would come out to relieve Hobgoblin A or B.

If this continued, the little elf would be the one to exhaust her stamina first!

“Tch.”

Astraea reluctantly continued her skirmish with the hobgoblins, considering whether to break away and make other plans.

After all, she had already entered the goblin nest’s range. She didn’t know if another wave of goblins would come to reinforce them. For now, she could barely hold her own against these three hobgoblins and the goblin mage. But if more enemies appeared, she would risk being captured!

That wouldn’t do. The little elf didn’t want to trigger a defeat CG, and even if she did, she only wanted Ron to be the one to trigger it.

Having made up her mind, Astraea feinted with her sword. Hobgoblin B hurriedly dodged, leaving an opening.

Ignoring Hobgoblin A, who was trying to close in, the little elf lunged forward and slipped through the gap Hobgoblin B had created, escaping the battlefield.

She twirled her straight sword in a graceful flourish, then reset her stance, watching the two hobgoblins warily.

She had escaped, but how could she retrieve Sir Tandri’s family crest?

The little elf didn’t want to give up. She needed to think of another way.

“Ugh… I wish Ron were here…”

—

The Ron that Astraea was longing for had just encountered the biggest challenge of his knight tournament.

As everyone knew, a knight had to ride a horse.

And Ron was a knight.

Well…

Ron looked at the standard warhorse assigned by the tournament, feeling a bit troubled.

Yes, the current event was mounted combat.

Watching his opponent mount the horse smoothly and gently calm it, Ron knew he had to do it whether he liked it or not.

He recalled the knowledge in his memory, then stepped on the stirrup and tried to mount.

But he wasn’t skilled enough and couldn’t find the right leverage. After two or three failed attempts, he finally managed to get on.

“Whoa!!!”

Seeing this, the audience erupted in a wave of jeers.

There was no help for it. In the audience’s eyes, lack of skill was a sin. They didn’t care about his family background or whether he had practiced riding.

In other words, if this were a real battlefield, would the enemy wait for him to try two or three times before mounting?

Ron understood this, so the jeers from the stands didn’t affect him at all. He just focused on balancing the horse.

“Haus Qi.”

Ron’s opponent announced his name. Ron naturally had to reciprocate.

“Ron Irvan Logan.”

Whether it was the medicine the little elf had given him taking effect, Ron noticed that even though he had fumbled several times, the horse was unusually friendly toward him. It didn’t even show any temper.

That saved him a lot of effort.

Ron raised the practice lance made of wood and tucked it under his armpit.

He wasn’t familiar with this kind of weapon—he only knew how to use it in theory.

He gently squeezed his legs, and the warhorse began to trot, then gradually accelerated.

Fifty meters.

That distance wasn’t long for a galloping warhorse. Ron lowered his body, gradually shifting his center of gravity forward.

His concentration was razor-sharp. The noisy crowd seemed to grow distant. Now, all he could see was his lance and the target.

Knight Haus was an expert horseman—that much was clear from his smooth mounting motion.

He was born in the northern grasslands of the kingdom and had grown up around horses.

So he wouldn’t lose!

He raised his lance, feeling the power of his ancestors surging within him. Charge!

The two knights clashed. Ron focused intently and, a moment before impact, raised his lance by a centimeter.

He didn’t know why he did it—just an instinctive feeling that it would increase his chances of winning.

Crack.

The sound of the lance breaking rang out. The tip struck Knight Haus’s chestplate, and the part of the lance under Ron’s armpit snapped cleanly.

The massive recoil force, combined with Ron’s unstable holding posture, caused him to lose his grip on the remaining half of the lance. He had to let it go.

Meanwhile, Knight Haus’s lance scraped past Ron’s chestplate but failed to inflict any damage.

It wasn’t until Knight Haus fell from his horse that he remembered: it wasn’t him who had grown up with horses—it was his family’s stableboy.

“The winner is, Ron Irvan Logan!”

The referee assessed the situation and immediately announced the result.

Another cheer erupted from the stands.

The audience no longer cared about Ron’s earlier clumsiness. They only cheered for the victor.

Ron let out a sigh of relief, then dismounted.

His riding skill was only half-baked at best. His victory was more luck than skill.

Still, luck was pretty important too.

Ron looked up toward the VIP box, but didn’t see the little elf.

Where had Astraea gone?

He was a bit puzzled, but it was time to leave the venue, so he didn’t dwell on it.

‘She’s probably asleep? She seemed really tired the past few days.’

Remembering how exhausted the little elf had looked earlier, Ron left the arena.

—

Time to get out of here!

After putting some distance between herself and the hobgoblins, Astraea didn’t choose to continue the standoff. She knew she couldn’t take down this nest on her own.

Gajiga naturally couldn’t just watch the breeding partner it had selected escape like that. It waved its crude staff, then was carried on the back of a hobgoblin.

The goblin warriors of this nest poured out en masse, screeching as they chased in the direction Astraea had retreated.

“Hmph! I can’t beat the hobgoblins, but you ordinary goblins?” Astraea sneered as she withdrew, seeing the common goblins.

She, Astraea, had painstakingly studied magic she didn’t even like for over a decade. How could these ordinary goblins be a match for her?

“Parasitism!”

She pulled a handful of seeds from a pouch tied at her waist and, while constructing a mana circuit, scattered them toward the hundreds of goblins.

Gajiga, riding on the hobgoblin’s back, instinctively sensed something was wrong. But it had only learned magic through accidental mutation—its skill was even inferior to the goblin mage the little elf had encountered in the sewers. It could only cast spells haphazardly, trying to disrupt the little elf’s spellcasting.

Too late!

A flash of light gleamed in the little elf’s eyes, and a torrent of mana surged from her mana core.

As the final stroke of the mana circuit was completed, the elemental energy in the sewers was violently sucked into the circuit structure, which acted like a pump. Gajiga’s fragile circuit was instantly destroyed from lack of elemental energy. It stared in disbelief at the massive circuit structure in the sewer.

“Gah?”

The seeds scattered into the air were continuously infused with elemental energy. A surge of vibrant life burst forth, and many seeds immediately began to sprout.

But that was just the beginning. The sprouting seeds rapidly grew rootlets. When these rootlets touched the goblins, they burrowed into their flesh like needles, then began draining the goblins’ organic matter.

Screams rose and fell. The parasitized goblins collapsed weakly to the ground. Their clubs couldn’t cut through the plant rootlets; they could only watch helplessly as their flesh withered away.

The two hobgoblins, however, roared in fury, grabbed the sprouting seeds with their large hands, and yanked hard, tearing off the parasitic rootlets embedded in their bodies.

Then they brandished their clubs and charged at Astraea. Having just cast a large-scale spell, Astraea took a deep breath to ease her fatigue, then raised her sword to meet them.

The hobgoblins’ clubs were only made of wood, while the little elf’s straight sword was genuine steel. After such fierce clashes, Hobgoblin A’s club finally gave out and snapped.

Unable to adjust her posture in time after completing an upward slash, Astraea quickly brought her sword down, leaving a gruesome wound on Hobgoblin A’s chest.

It was over. The large-scale spell, which had consumed half of the little elf’s mana, had achieved even better results than she had anticipated.

And Hobgoblin A’s injury directly shifted the balance of power between the little elf and the goblins.

Seeing the situation turn unfavorable, Gajiga immediately urged the hobgoblin carrying it to turn and flee. To cover the retreat of the wounded hobgoblin, Hobgoblin B engaged the little elf. After three rounds of skirmishing, Astraea finished it off with a single sword stroke.

Looking at the sewer passage now brimming with life, Astraea raised her sword, having just executed Hobgoblin A, and a smile crept onto her face.

There were no birdsong or floral scents, and the ground was littered with withered goblin remains. But Astraea felt the forest’s presence for the first time in a while.

Ah, the forest!

The little elf, who was gradually turning into a madwoman, suddenly snapped back to reality. She looked at the withered goblin remains scattered everywhere and shivered.

Why did she feel more like a villain than the actual villains?