Chapter 31: The Challenge [4]

The real problem was that he simply couldn’t keep up.

His brute strength meant nothing if he couldn’t land a hit, and that realization pushed him over the edge.

Frustration boiled inside him as his pride refused to accept what was happening.

With a furious roar, he charged straight at me, rage fueling every step as his massive arms swung wildly in an attempt to crush me.

But anger made him reckless.

Every swing was heavier, faster... and easier to predict.

I took full advantage, slipping through the gaps in his defense before darting forward in a blur.

In the blink of an eye, I was right in front of him. My fingers shot out and clamped around his throat, my grip tightening like an iron vice.

Raw power surged through my body, my muscles burning with strength as I tightened my hold, and before he could even react, I lifted his massive body clean off the ground without the slightest hint of strain.

The crowd’s roars of excitement died away, replaced by a stunned silence so complete that it felt almost unnatural.

Across the arena, I caught sight of Gunther.

His frown had deepened, his jaw locked so tightly that the veins in his neck stood out beneath his skin as he watched the fight unfold. By now, everyone could see the truth. This wasn’t a battle anymore. It had become a one-sided beatdown.

Bruz’s eyes bulged as his hands clawed desperately at my grip, his legs kicking wildly in search of the ground that was no longer beneath him, but I didn’t budge.

My hold remained firm, unshaken and unstoppable, while the seconds stretched on, each one feeling longer than the last as the crushing weight of the moment settled over every person watching the match.

Then, for the grand finale, I twisted my body in midair and drove him straight into the ground.

BOOM!

The impact shook the entire clearing, sending dust and shattered earth erupting into the air as a crater formed beneath Bruz’s body.

The ground trembled beneath my feet, and his body jerked violently once before going completely limp.

His chest still rose and fell in shallow, ragged breaths, but that was the only sign he was alive.

For a long moment, the clearing fell silent.

Then, from somewhere in the crowd, a single goblin began to shouted and the entire gathering exploded into chaos.

The sheer brutality of my victory had thrown the tribe into a frenzy.

Some goblins roared with excitement, pounding their fists against their chests like war drums as they celebrated, their voices echoing through the camp.

Others stood frozen in disbelief before their expressions twisted into open fury, glaring at me with barely concealed hatred.

After all, I hadn’t just won.

I had humiliated one of their own.

Zephra was grinning, her eyes gleaming with something that looked dangerously close to admiration.

Gunther, on the other hand, looked like he wanted to rip my head off.

His gaze cut through me like a frozen blade, sharp, cold, and deadly, while his fists clenched so tightly at his sides that his knuckles turned white.

I’d just humiliated his brother in front of the entire clan, and I could see the promise of revenge burning behind his eyes.

He was never going to let that slide.

Not that it bothered me.

I let out a slow breath and dusted off my hands as though I’d just finished a light workout instead of knocking out one of the strongest goblins in the camp.

Then, because I couldn’t resist twisting the knife a little deeper, I strolled over to Bruz’s unconscious body, crouched beside him, gave his cheek a couple of light pats, and smirked.

"Thanks for the warm-up, big guy."

Another round of cheers and laughter rolled through the crowd as trolls stomped their feet, slapped each other on the back, and reveled in the spectacle.

Yet beneath the celebration, I could still feel hostile stares boring into my back like daggers. Not everyone was cheering. Some goblins would never accept me, not at the moment at least.

Even so, something had changed.

The hatred and disgust that had filled their eyes before had given way to something else. A reluctant acknowledgment.

They might not have liked me, but they couldn’t ignore me anymore. There was no mistaking it. My standing within the tribe had shifted.

Bruz had challenged me to put me in my place.

Instead, I’d carved out a place of my own.

Now would I actually stay here? Live among my kind?

I wasn’t sure.

But the idea was starting to grow on me. ℯℯ𝑙.

Rolling my shoulders as I walked toward Zephra, I stretched until my back cracked, the tension melting away with each step.

When I finally reached her, I glanced around at the still crackling bonfires, the endless spread of roasted meat, and the thick scent of smoke and spices hanging in the air before asking:

"So... what’s next?"

Zephra let out a soft chuckle, folding her arms across her chest before gesturing toward the celebration around us. A smirk tugged at her lips.

"Next?" she echoed. "The feast continues."

I grinned as my stomach growled in agreement.

"Good," I muttered. "I worked up an appetite."

**

Far away, deep within the forest, another hunt was already underway.

A line of figures moved through the darkness in eerie silence, their lanterns casting flickering pools of light across the dense undergrowth.

The glow revealed steel-plated boots crunching over fallen branches, fur-lined cloaks swaying with every measured step, and the cold gleam of weapons already drawn.

These were no ordinary travelers.

They were adventurers. About three dozen.

The group came to a halt as the figure at their head stepped forward.

Short but powerfully built, the dwarf carried himself with the confidence of someone who had spent a lifetime hunting monsters.

His thick beard, streaked with gray, framed a weathered face, while his cold, unwavering eyes swept across the forest with practiced precision.

Draped over his broad shoulders was a ragged cloak stitched from the hide of a boar, its coarse fur still stained with patches of dried, darkened blood.

His bearded face twisted into a grimace as he surveyed the seemingly endless expanse of towering trees and dense undergrowth stretching before them.

After a long moment, he exhaled through flared nostrils and slowly raised a thick, calloused hand, tracing his fingers through the air as though feeling for an invisible current only he could sense.

"Here," he muttered, his gravelly voice scraping through the silence like stone against steel.

The humans behind him immediately tensed, their grips tightening around their weapons as their eyes snapped toward the seemingly ordinary patch of forest ahead.

Hidden behind layers of tangled vines, ancient trees, and natural camouflage lay the entrance to the goblin village.

A sharp, wolfish grin spread across the dwarf’s face.

"Mages, do your thing...Swiftly, please..."

As the mages worked, the dwarf ran his thumb along the axe’s edge, testing its sharpness.

His grin widened at the thought of the blood that would soon stain its blade.