From his elevated vantage point through the drone feed, Paul observed the battlefield below. Every group of four troops had positioned themselves with clear coordination—an organized assault.
He noticed several goblins breaking away, fleeing back toward their settlement. The chaos was evident: guttural goblin screams echoed, mixed with the sharp clash of steel. Paul smirked slightly.
"Oh... there's prey for me," he muttered, raising his rifle and taking aim at the special-looking goblins.
Twip. Twip. Twip.
Precise shots rang out as he picked off targets one by one.
When he shifted his drone view north and east, he spotted even more goblins retreating in a panic. From his position southwest of the settlement, his line of fire began to get obstructed—the goblins were nearing the wall.
"Hm... let's use that method then," Paul whispered, adjusting the rifle to a higher angle. He began calculating the trajectory, estimating distance with sharp precision.
Renya, noticing his change in posture, blinked in confusion. "What are you doing, Prince?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.
"Practice," Paul replied simply, eyes still locked on the drone feed.
Twip. Twip. Twip.
The shots rang out once more. His intuition and gravity-assisted aim guided each bullet straight into goblin skulls.
Stab. Stab. Stab.
Three consecutive headshots. The goblins dropped instantly.
Paul nodded with satisfaction as he spotted another special goblin. Calmly, he resumed aiming, calculating, and pulling the trigger. The drone confirmed—more kills.
While Paul focused on his shooting, Renya glanced toward the western side of the wall, frowning. "Prince... isn't it strange that the west is completely empty? There are no monsters at all."
Paul, still peering through his scope, replied casually, "Maybe they've been intercepted by the western troops."
Just as he steadied his aim again, a sharp voice crackled through his radio. It was Brunhild.
"This is Iron Fist. All remaining cavalry, infantry, and adventurers still able to fight—immediately reinforce the western front. I repeat—head to the West. Over."
Paul froze for a moment. He slowly looked up from his rifle.
He and Renya exchanged glances—eyes wide, expressions tense. Something was wrong.
Paul was still processing Brunhild's urgent broadcast when another voice cracked through his earpiece—desperate, panicked.
"Prince!! Help me…!! They're all coming toward me!!!"
It was Greta.
His heart skipped a beat. Her voice was raw with fear.
"Hide first!" Paul ordered sharply through the comms. Without wasting a second, he turned and sprinted toward the western perimeter—seeking a vantage point where he could support Greta's position.
While running, he opened his comms again. "Kruger, can you assist in the western area?" he asked, eyes locked on the drone feed showing Greta surrounded.
A moment of static passed, followed by the unmistakable sound of steel clashing.
Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang.
Then Kruger's voice came through—strained but steady. "Sorry..."
Suddenly, a loud shout erupted through the radio:
"[Crater Slam]!!"
BOOMMMM! A thunderous explosion echoed in the background. Dust flew across the drone's visuals.
"Looks like I'll need a few more minutes, Prince... Haaa!!!" Kruger added, his voice followed again by the clashing of metal.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
Paul ended the call and quickly climbed a tall tree near the battlefield. From there, he had a clearer angle toward Greta's position. He raised his rifle and used the drone's guidance to align his sights.
Twip. Twip.
A pair of shots fired—testing for distance and wind. They hit close.
He adjusted slightly, then opened another channel. "Gunther, can you assist the western flank? Greta's surrounded."
Even as he spoke, he refocused and aimed at another special goblin nearing Greta.
A few moments later, Gunther's voice came crackling over the radio.
"[Tidal Thrust]!!"
Stab. Clang. Clang. Clang.
"Ah... sorry, Prince. Five more minutes."
Clang. Clang. Clang.
And then the line cut off.
Paul let out a long sigh. "Tch... figures."
He adjusted his grip and pulled the trigger again.
Twip. Twip.
Another precise burst from his rifle.
The strategic goblin—clearly one of the leaders—jerked back and collapsed, motionless.
But just as the body hit the dirt, a deep, guttural roar echoed through the battlefield.
"AaaaAAA!!"
The Goblin King had noticed.
Almost immediately, dozens of goblins began hacking away at the trees surrounding their position with terrifying coordination.
Paul froze for a second, watching from above with narrowed eyes.
Renya, standing nearby and monitoring the same scene, let out an exaggerated sigh.
"Look... looks like you've messed it up again, Prince."
She smacked her forehead dramatically and added,
"Tsk, tsk, tsk..."
Her head shook from side to side like a disappointed teacher.
Paul glared at her, clearly resisting the urge to smack her head instead.
But he restrained himself—Greta was still in danger.
He switched the channel again and called out,
"Greta, attack now. I'll support you if those trees come down," Paul spoke steadily through the radio, eyes focused on the drone feed hovering above the battlefield.
He inhaled, adjusted his scope, and pulled the trigger.
Twip. Twip. Twip.
The bullets zipped through the air, aimed precisely at the Goblin King's head and chest.
But—
CLANG—SHHIIING!
The Goblin King swung his massive greatsword, effortlessly deflecting every bullet with a sweeping arc, sparks scattering from the blade as if taunting Paul.
Paul exhaled sharply.
"Tch… Looks like I'll have to bring that out…"
He slid the coil rifle back into his bag with a calm, practiced motion.
With one hand, he reached back and unlatched the heavy, reinforced casing strapped to his back—the Electromagnetic Rifle, a weapon not meant for casual use.
The air around him tingled faintly with static as the core inside began its low hum of activation.
Just as he was about to fully draw it—
"Hold on for 3 minutes, I'm heading there…!!"
Brunhild's voice snapped through the radio, commanding and fierce.
From the western path, the Western Army surged like a tide.
Shouts and steel followed:
"Attack!!"
"Hold the line!!"
"Loose arrows!!"
"Don't break formation!!"
Paul paused. His hands relaxed from the rifle's grip.
But before he could make a decision—
"Prince! Help!!"
Greta's voice screamed over the radio, raw with panic.
Looking at the drone feed, Greta was surrounded.
At the same time, the Goblin King raised his greatsword high, a vile green aura spiraling around him. His subordinates held off the advancing Western Army, buying time. Something dangerous was about to be unleashed.
Paul narrowed his eyes.
"He's going to use a Skill…" he muttered.
Then, more sharply:
"Greta! Jump and shoot through it! I only have three shots..."
With one hand, Paul reached into his gear and pulled out his enchanted crossbow, already preloaded with special arrows, each tipped with a card holder.
The cards inside—etched painstakingly with layered runes—glowed faintly with mana.
The Goblin King roared ( Relase his skill : [Tyrant Smash] )
He slammed his colossal greatsword into the ground with a thunderous BOOM, sending out a shockwave that cracked the earth. And then—
All the trees around the Goblin King began to creak and tilt, their massive trunks cut halfway through by goblins moments earlier. One by one, they started to fall. the same as the tree that Greta climbed.
Paul's eyes widened. He didn't wait.
"Damn it—no choice."
He raised his enchanted crossbow and fired.
Twip.
The arrow arced above Greta, carrying a card holder trailing weak sparks.
Watching it wobble, Paul let out a long sigh.
"My cards… all those sleepless nights writing runes by hand…"
A quick flick of his fingers triggered the embedded rune.
[Bomb]—activated.
BAM.
The card holder burst in the air, and from it, dozens of glowing cards scattered like a burst of enchanted snowflakes. In midair, they flared to life—each card igniting with the sharp blue of [Ice] and the heavy silver gleam of [Weight].
After hearing the word "card" escape from Paul's lips, Renya gently patted his shoulder and said with a small smile,
"It's okay, Prince... you're a hard worker—writing all those runes yourself."
Her face carried a subtle, teasing look that clearly said, "Come on, just shoot another one."
Paul let out a deep sigh, reluctant.
With a bit of hesitation, he reattached the crossbow bolt and card holder, carefully aligning it. His finger lingered near the trigger.
"Am I really going to waste another one...?"
Just as he was about to fire into the sky above Greta—
Crackle—a sudden voice came through the radio.
"Step back...!! I'll handle him..."
Brunhild's voice, firm and commanding.
Paul blinked. Relief washed over his face.
"That was close...!!"
He lowered the crossbow and let out a breath, tension melting from his shoulders.
In the distance, Brunhild had already charged forward—her long sword glowing faintly as she clashed directly with the Goblin King.
BOOOOMMM!
The impact echoed across the battlefield. The shockwave kicked up dust and leaves as steel met cursed iron.
Watching the overwhelming force of their clash, Paul narrowed his eyes.
"Gifted sis Brunhild... is really strong."
He watched again as the two locked blades—but Brunhild's stance held firm.
While looking at another clash of weapons, Paul watched as Brunhild finally gained the upper hand.
Renya, still focused through her binoculars, nodded slowly.
"Yes... elemental ice paired with sword technique. Really deadly in battle,"
she said, her voice calm but clearly impressed.
Seeing that the battle was winding down and that reinforcements were flooding in from the southern & northern side, Paul exhaled quietly, then asked—still watching the clash from afar,
"How many victims are there in the goblin settlement?"
Renya didn't shift her gaze.
"Two seriously injured. They were hostages… but luckily, a few of the adventurers brought healers. They managed to stabilize them."
Paul's brow furrowed.
"The reason?"
There was a pause.
Still scanning the field, Renya sighed, her face shadowed slightly.
"They tried to commit suicide in the middle of the goblin horde."
She closed her eyes briefly, then added—
"Thankfully… the slave collars stopped them. Just in time."
She ran her hand through her hair, as if soothing away a tension headache.
Paul, standing beside her, just let out a long breath.
"As I thought..."
His voice was low, tired. A mix of anger and resignation.
Just as Paul was about to continue the conversation, a thunderous roar split the air.
His eyes widened in disbelief as Brunhild leapt high—her sword shining with icy mana—and cleaved the Goblin King clean from above.
The blow was final, brutal, absolute.
Paul froze.
"No..."
he muttered, his voice flat with resignation.
Renya turned to him, confused.
"Prince?"
she asked, seeing the distant look in his eyes, as though something vital had just slipped away.
Paul let out a long, tired sigh.
"The Magic Core..."
His words dropped like lead.
Realizing what he meant, Renya followed his gaze to the now-split corpse of the Goblin King. She squinted for a moment—then chuckled lightly.
"Hmm... maybe you should take a closer look, Prince,"
she said, smiling with amusement.
Still disheartened, Paul turned away, descending from the vantage point and heading back toward the dungeon entrance—the designated regroup point once the extermination was over.
"Unlucky me..."
he muttered to himself, dragging his feet slightly, sighing again as the weight of a missed opportunity settled over him.