The moment the last few ordinary goblins saw Lucas cut down their comrades, they shrieked in panic. Their green, twisted faces twisted even further with fear, and without hesitation they turned tail, scrambling away like rats chased from a burning field. Their shrill cries echoed through the crude camp, carrying far beyond the wooden barricades.
That was the problem with this dungeon.
The Goblin Tribe dungeon was designed to be relentless. Once the fighting began, it was like striking a hornet's nest: goblins would keep rushing in from every direction. Unless an adventuring team could wipe them all out quickly, they would never truly stop the tide. A few might fall, others would scatter, and their panic would draw even more of their kin. It was a vicious loop of chaos.
For most, this was a nightmare. For Lucas? This was paradise.
Instead of chasing monsters across a vast forest or crawling through caves, the monsters came right to him. Lucas grinned, his blade flashing as the goblins poured in. He had already activated his double experience buff with the very first goblin kill, and now, instead of being threatened, he was delighted. Every shriek and every footstep rushing closer meant more progress, more growth.
These goblins were only level 30. By themselves, their experience points weren't much. But numbers could overwhelm strength. Individually, two goblins barely added up to a single high-level monster, but here—there were dozens. When multiplied by his double experience bonus, the results were staggering.
This was why Lucas never skipped these daily dungeon refreshes. Yes, there was profit in farming materials and drops. But the real prize was the rapid leveling. Three runs with a single activation of double experience, and he could still use the rest of the timer for grinding tougher mobs outside. Nothing was wasted.
Half an hour later, after sweeping through waves of screaming goblins, Lucas encountered the second elite of the dungeon: a Goblin Warrior commander.
This one wasn't just brute muscle. It carried a bow, and not just for show. The arrows it loosed hissed through the air like sniper shots, each one heavy with murderous intent. The first struck Lucas squarely in the chest.
The impact forced him back a step, his health bar dipping by over five hundred points. Lucas narrowed his eyes. His defense was sky-high—nearly three thousand points—yet this arrow still cut him for triple digits. That meant the creature's attack power was at least two thousand, its skill scaling impressive.
For most adventurers, even shield specialists with thick armor, this would have been terrifying. A fragile class would lose nearly half their health in one strike. A few arrows could spell instant defeat.
But Lucas wasn't "most adventurers."
With sixteen thousand hit points and a talent skill granting fifty percent damage reduction, he could soak over thirty of those arrows before breaking a sweat. And even if he did take damage, the mobs swarming him served as living blood packs. A single swing of his dagger, a siphoned strike, and his health topped itself up.
So he ignored the archer. The goblin's keen eyes followed him, arrow after arrow seeking his chest, but Lucas didn't flinch. His focus was on the mob.
"Forget it, let's kill the ordinary ones first. Then I'll deal with you, sneaky rat."
His blade sang as he worked through the crowd. The air filled with shrieks, green blood splattering the dirt. He deliberately left a few survivors to scatter, drawing more goblins into his trap.
Only once the battlefield quieted did Lucas turn to the elite archer.
"Satisfied? Had your fun? Good. Now it's my turn."
With a low snort, he blurred forward, teleporting into position with Backstab. His dagger pierced the goblin's waist, the blow twisting its body in agony. Its health bar plummeted to zero before it could even cry out.
It dropped without ceremony. Its twenty-one thousand health was a joke compared to Lucas's destructive strikes.
Lucas cleaned the field, gathering scattered materials. Around him lay seventy to eighty goblin corpses, their twisted bodies littering the camp like discarded dolls. The once-noisy camp now echoed with silence. His eyes drifted toward the center of the encampment, where the largest hut loomed.
The final challenge awaited inside.
"That has to be the Hob Goblin."
He finished off the last guards at the hut's entrance, pushed open the crude wooden door, and stepped inside.
The air was hot and heavy.
Inside, a massive goblin sprawled across the ground, snoring loudly. Its belly rose and fell with each thunderous breath, shaking the floorboards. For a moment, it looked almost comical. But Lucas knew better. This was the final boss.
The system was merciful to ordinary adventurers—bosses never stirred until the players entered. Otherwise, combined with the endless goblin swarms, even five-person teams would have no chance.
Lucas, of course, was no ordinary adventurer.
As he entered, the boss stirred, one eye snapping open. Its massive frame trembled as it reached for a brutal long knife at its side. The red blood vessels across its iris pulsed with fury.
Lucas quickly tossed out a detection scroll.
---
Name: Goblin Tribe Leader – One-Eye (Hob Goblin)
Level: 34
HP: 47,625
Attack Power: 2,547
Physical Defense: 1,374
Magic Defense: 1,218
Skills: Rolling, Swift Slashing, Ground Blade, Heavy Slash, Short Bow Rapid Fire, Throwing, Rage.
---
Lucas chuckled. "Of course your first skill is rolling. Figures."
Nightmare difficulty had buffed its stats to monstrous levels. For an average player, this was a true nightmare—its defenses rivaled elites, its health bar daunting, its move set versatile. It could slash, roll, snipe, and rage. A real challenge.
The Hob Goblin roared, its guttural cry shaking the room. The language was incomprehensible, but its hatred was clear.
Lucas twirled his dagger lazily. "Hello, boss. I'm here for some shiny loot. Be generous, alright?"
"ROAR!!!"
The Hob Goblin had no patience for jokes. With surprising speed, it rolled forward, then slashed its blade toward Lucas's legs.
For ordinary adventurers, the sheer momentum would freeze them in terror. Even if the game system translated it into simple damage numbers, the murderous intent behind the attack felt very real.
Lucas reacted instantly. He leapt, legs folding under him, the blade cutting air beneath his boots.
But the goblin wasn't done. Another roll, another slash—its combo was seamless. Midair, Lucas had nowhere to dodge.
So he struck back.
"Backstab!"
His dagger flashed, striking deep into the Hob Goblin's waist.
A damage value appeared above its head:
–68,463!
The goblin froze. Its health bar evaporated in a single blow. The mighty leader of the Goblin Tribe—defenses, skills, and fury—all meant nothing. It collapsed, its body thudding to the floorboards.
Instant kill.
Lucas blinked, scratching his head.
"Uh… I didn't mean it. I really wanted to play a bit longer." He looked down at the corpse, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips. "Sorry about that. I'll give you a chance to roll around next time."
But the truth was, he had simply grown too strong. Even a level 34 leader-class boss couldn't withstand one of his strikes. It was both exhilarating and anticlimactic.
Still—bosses had their use.
With a shimmer, two radiant lights burst from the Hob Goblin's corpse. One blue, one purple. Rare loot.
Lucas's eyes widened. "Oh? Did I actually get something good this time?"
Heart racing, he hurried over. The fight might have been short, but the rewards would decide if this run had truly been worth it.
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