Ruthless: Path of Conquest

As the next group of Goblin Knights prepared to charge, Duncan used his power to cast a low energy, but highly effective, illusion on the human.

This was a trick he had played on more than a dozen humans at once before, and that was before the System crowned him the Goblin King. Even if this warrior had some sort of anti-magic power, Duncan hoped it would get through somehow.

It should give the impression that he faced twenty times the number of Goblins as were actually there. The illusion would be far from convincing, of course. But making the warrior believe he was outnumbered was far from the point. No one who knew how Illusion Magic worked would be fooled so easily.

Rather, Duncan’s intent was to make it impossible for the human to determine which of the Goblin Knights he was seeing were the real ones and which were fake.

Though the Goblin King stood far away, he thought he detected a flicker of surprise on the man’s face. As the group of knights charged, they shouted an array of fierce battle cries.

“Fear us, human!”

“Your kind shall run from us!”

“This is our land now!”

Then, as they drew close, Duncan saw the human swing his arm like a blade. What is he doing? They are too far away for—

Duncan felt the pressure of the wind even from far behind every other Goblin in the fight. He wanted to shout a warning, even as he knew it was far too late. As the five Goblin Knights’ heads tumbled from their shoulders, the words died on his lips.

“No,” he whispered instead. With such a wide-ranging attack, he does not even need to see to aim. The only chance now is to overwhelm with numbers. The old strategy. The only technique the Goblins had known to employ before Duncan took charge and showed them how to use basic tactics, deception, and traps.

The fight was going to turn into a melee. An ugly, bloody brawl. Most of the Goblins involved would probably have to die to bring the human down, but Duncan saw no other choice.

This is all my fault, he thought. The limitations of my planning are really showing now. I never imagined someone would manage to descend so deep underground without being torn limb from limb by the Mole People or killed by the Goblin Knights. I thought I could at least whittle him down slowly as he traveled down that damn tunnel, but he bypassed any obstacles I placed in his way.

The Goblin King shook his head. Stop thinking like this. The troops need you.

He sent a command to all of the Goblin fighters he had left. The strategy is not working as planned. We must revert to our backup plan. All able-bodied infantry, attack the human at once. Cavalry will wait to see if the warrior gets back up after he is crushed under the weight of hundreds of Goblin bodies.

Duncan tried to project confidence in his voice, but he feared that his own desperate fears might come through. Still, the Goblins began to move with his orders. They had enough courage to make up for his deficiency.

The Goblin infantry charged forward toward the human and leaped upon him with daggers drawn. Duncan saw the human buried under a pile of yellow-green figures that were barely armed and dressed, let alone armored. Then Goblins began screaming and falling away. Duncan saw their bodies gushing great gouts of blood before they were covered by more Goblins rushing in to attack. The figure of the human was barely visible for a moment, hacking away with some sort of short bladed weapon. Then he was covered in Goblin flesh again.

Please let this be the end of him, Duncan prayed. Please…

More Goblin bodies piled on top of the stack that covered the human. Each new warrior added to the heap struggled to find a gap. A place to stick his or her dagger in and hopefully wound the human. They all did their utmost.

As he looked on helplessly, Duncan reflected that he had witnessed a change in his people over the course of their Orientation. There was a much greater community spirit, a willingness to sacrifice for the sake of the group, and an accompanying courage. It had not been transmitted all the way from the bottom of their ranks to the Goblin King himself, perhaps, but it was nevertheless quite real.

We have evolved as a species, he thought. Not in the System’s sense, in the way that he had Evolved successively from a Lesser Goblin to a Goblin and finally a Greater Goblin. No, in a sort of moral sense? It was not an idea he understood well yet. Something ineffable.

Maybe the difference is that we no longer feel like just a bunch of losers, he thought. In Orientation, we became winners for the first time. It was hard. I would never say it was easy. But there is something about coming out on top. Something that changes your spirit for the better. After you get used to being kicked around all your life, you stop expecting anything good if you ever did. I know that was how the generation before us were. I was lucky to be born when I was.

As he had these thoughts, Duncan’s eyes widened. He had been staring at the pile of Goblins crawling all over where the human was. They had all been frantically stabbing into the space where their target stood. Attacking any perceived gap they could find, even where that risked hitting fellow Goblins.

But it wasn’t their frantic movements that raised the Goblin King’s alarm. The Goblins looked almost frozen for a moment, in fact. Some of them had stopped moving, and others were starting to push themselves away. Then Duncan spotted something odd. The top of the pile was smoking gently.

Then it smoked much more forcefully.

A few Goblins managed to push themselves away from the smoking column, but most of them simply fell away and collapsed to the ground, their bodies blackened. The human’s body stood, unbent. Apparently as strong as ever. Covered in flames from head to toe.

His magic is powerful, Duncan thought. The human strode forward suddenly and began stomping on the Goblins that had managed to get away from him. Everything he touched burned, except his own body and his armor.

Avoid him until he runs out of Mana for that flame attack, Duncan sent to all of the remaining warriors. There were still a number of them. Perhaps around three quarters of what Duncan had started with, if one counted the injured as well as those who had not yet participated in the battle. Still, even if most had not participated yet, that did not mean their morale was unaffected.

After the human’s display of killing prowess, they were all more than happy to do their best to keep away from him.

And fortunately, he did not waste much Stamina in chasing them. Just lumbered after the slower Goblins. Perhaps he was tiring.

As soon as the flames die down, charge in again! Duncan sent. A row of Goblin Knights first, then infantry rush in quickly while he’s off balance.

This was the whittling down process the Goblin King had envisioned, albeit at a greater cost in Goblin lives than he had hoped or imagined. But if the greater community was to succeed—even survive—they had to at least be able to defeat a single powerful human sent to kill them.

The flames gradually died down, and the Goblins resumed their assault. A half dozen mounted on Mole People prepared to charge. Daven had regained consciousness and sat on his Mole Man, ready to lead the way.

“For the King!” he shouted once more.

Thank the gods for you, Daven, Duncan thought. If not for you, I have no idea how I could get away with commanding from an invisible position like this.

Then the Goblin Knights rode into close quarters with the human, the infantry following close behind. Duncan turned to look at the enemy, and his stomach flipped. The human was rushing to meet them, a sword in one hand and a long dagger in the other. He wore a grim smile.

The next minute was a tornado of carnage the likes of which the Goblin King had never seen before. The human leaped and twirled between targets—So much for him being tired, Duncan had time to think—and wherever he landed, death followed. His two blades always found targets, while the Goblins always seemed to be following a step behind the human’s grim dance. Putting him into another melee situation seemed to have been the worst thing Duncan could have done. Perhaps if the human had been forced to fight the Goblins two or three at a time, he would gradually have been worn down.

Perhaps. But that hypothetical was as useless as the reality before Duncan was painful.

The reality of Goblins screaming as a single man shredded them with his blades. The cavalry feebly trying to pivot and chase after him. The eyes of other Goblins beginning to fill with fear.

The reality was incredibly ugly.

The sight of his troops dying by the dozen almost paralyzed the Goblin King. Then the man turned toward Daven, and he stuck his dagger through the center of Daven’s chest.

No…

Daven’s eyes widened, his mouth pursed in a small ‘O’ shape. His face contorted with pain and fear. His right hand released his pike, and his left reached up to clutch at the wound in his chest. Before it made the full journey to the gushing wound, Daven tumbled from his mount’s back and fell out of sight.

Tears welled up in Duncan’s eyes.

It was futile, he thought. Futile. I killed my brother. I sent him to his death. All for nothing!

He stared at the enemy warrior, unable to look away. The human was covered in blood and gore, with no visible wounds or damage to his armor that Duncan could see. He did not seem to have spilled a single drop of his own blood thus far. I cannot even tell if he is getting tired. He just looked angrier.

Oh gods… please let it stop. Loki, what do I do? How can we stand up to him?

As he had this thought, the Goblin soldiers began to break and run at the human’s approach. All it took was a couple of warriors too afraid to stand up to him to ignite a panic. Most of the rest of the troops began running for the tunnels where the civilians hid. Only the most ferocious warriors stayed out in the open where the human was.

We Goblins always end this way, Duncan thought bitterly. Brutish, shortsighted, and cowardly. Our true nature is finally coming out.

As the human advanced toward the next nearest group of remaining soldiers, Duncan began altering the illusion he presented, to hide the escape routes the fleeing Goblins were taking—and to make himself visible. Or a version of himself anyway.

The image he wanted the human to see was roughly two feet taller than the real Goblin King, significantly more muscular than him, and carrying a large, mean-looking metal club studded all over with spikes.

The real Goblin King was just under five feet tall, well muscled compared to a human of his height, and carried a long dirk.

This would be his last gambit.

Everyone else should get away from the human. I will handle him as best I can. If I should fail, then beg for your lives. In the event that he is not inclined to spare you—as Duncan felt certain the human would not be—then try to flee with the children, or die defending them.

They seemed insufficient as last words, but the Goblin King knew that he was probably about to join his brother in the next life.

Duncan cleared his throat and then distorted his voice into the most intimidating, gravelly noise that he could make.

“Human! Now you face me. The Goblin King! Prepare yourself.”

Duncan puppeteered the illusory Goblin King in a charge straight at the warrior, while his real body took a slightly more oblique route. It was just possible that if he engaged the human in a duel with his fake body, there would be a moment he could attack with his real weapon. The dirk was long, sharp, and narrow. Perfect to fit into a gap in the human’s armor, or slit his throat.

I just need to make an opportunity.

Duncan was so focused on placing his body at a good angle to the enemy and maneuvering the fake Goblin King around that he missed a key detail.

The human warrior had closed his eyes. Duncan only noticed when he was a few feet away from the human, ordering the illusory Goblin King to swing his club at the man’s head.

What—who would close his eyes in the middle of a fight?

Then the human lunged at him—at Duncan, the real one, not the false body. Suddenly his hands were tightening around Duncan’s throat, and all hope seemed lost.

“Surrender, Goblin King,” the man’s voice pronounced. “Swear that you and all who follow you will obey me and my heirs until your dying day. Otherwise I must continue my terrible task.”