Gauss didn’t rush in.
Instead, he chose to pause—ears alert, eyes scanning his surroundings.
The area around the pond was wide open. Aside from the stone the goblin sat on, there were no obstructions. It was a perfect spot for a frontal assault.
But between his current bushy cover and the goblin’s position was about ten ters of exposed ground, fully lit by the sun. Ten ters might not sound like much, but a sudden rush would still make enough noise to give it ti to react.
So instead of charging straight in, Gauss planned to circle behind the goblin, sneak up quietly, and strike at close range.
It had to be quick—catch it off guard while it was still sharpening its weapon. Ideally, he’d land the first blow before the goblin could even grab its spear or get into a defensive stance.
An ambush. Him ard, the enemy unard. Combined with his size advantage, the odds would tilt heavily in his favor.
His mind raced through every possibility.
Once the plan was solid, he moved—crouching low, advancing slowly, doing everything he could to stay silent.
He crept behind the goblin, inch by careful inch.
Once in position, he gripped his wooden spear tightly. Whether from nerves or adrenaline, his hands were shaking.
He swallowed.
Just ahead, the goblin sat with its back to him, absently scratching its foot while humming to itself, calmly sharpening its stone spear—completely unaware of the danger lurking behind.
It wouldn’t be long now.
This would be the mont that decided its fate.
Gauss took a deep breath. In his past life, aside from stepping on the occasional bug, he’d never taken a life. Now he was about to kill a living, breathing creature—and one that bore a vaguely humanoid appearance at that.
Still, it had to be done.
He closed his eyes.
At the mont he’d first laid eyes on the goblin, a childhood mory had surfaced—one from the original body’s life.
Back then, a group of over twenty goblins had raided his village. Though the adults managed to fight them off with pitchforks and sickles, a neighbor girl just a few years older than him was taken... and never returned.
He didn’t need to imagine what beca of her.
And that was just one of countless such tragedies.
When he opened his eyes again, all hesitation was gone.
He pressed his thumbnail hard into his finger joint. The sharp pain steadied his trembling hand.
Holding his breath, he crept forward from the brush in a low crouch.
Shield in his left hand. Spear in his right.
Aside from the chirping of birds and buzzing of insects, the forest had gone completely still.
Even the wind had quieted. The pond’s surface didn’t ripple.
Gauss stopped about three ters behind the goblin. No need to go any closer.
At this range, he could see the tiny hairs in the goblin’s wrinkled green skin, watch the movent of its muscles as it breathed.
He slowly rose from his crouch, careful not to jerk his body—just like playing freeze tag as a kid.
He waited until the stiffness left his legs.
Then—strike.
He lunged forward, his foot slamming into the ground and launching him ahead with explosive force.
Three steps in one bound, he landed directly on the stone behind the goblin.
The goblin jolted, clearly startled by the noise. Its first instinct was to grab its stone spear.
But Gauss had anticipated that.
He stomped down hard with his right foot—right onto the weapon’s wooden shaft.
The goblin’s hand ca up empty. It tried to reach again.
But Gauss’s spear was already driving forward.
The goblin twisted just in ti, avoiding a fatal blow—but not completely. The spear grazed its waist, leaving a bloody gash.
It stumbled back, eyes still on the spear.
Gauss didn’t hesitate. He kicked the stone weapon away.
It clattered several ters off.
If the goblin wanted its weapon, it would have to get past him.
But Gauss had no intention of letting that happen.
The goblin was now unard. Gauss advanced, cautious, and stabbed forward again with his spear.
The goblin, driven by pure survival instinct, dodged at the last second and even managed to slip in close during the follow-through.
Gauss’s heart raced, but his body moved on instinct. He raised his small round shield and bashed the goblin away.
“WAAHHH! WAHHH!”
The goblin shrieked. It hadn’t dodged the shield—it got smacked hard and was sent flying.
It took a mont to get back up, staggering. The pain from its wound made it scream even louder, rage filling its beady eyes.
Up close, Gauss could see the sharp fangs in its mouth and sll the foul stench in its spit.
Even without a weapon, the goblin lunged at him, claws bared and aiming for his flesh.
Gauss didn’t flinch.
Thrust.
“Pshhk!”
This ti, it hit.
The tip of his spear pierced the goblin’s gut, breaking through the resistance of skin and muscle.
A gush of bright red blood sprayed from the wound, covering his arms and staining his clothes.
He could feel the pressure and softness through the wooden shaft—the goblin’s body trembling against the spear as the blood trickled down.
“YAHHH!!”
Even with a hole through its abdon, the goblin kept pushing forward, desperately trying to claw at Gauss.
It was dying—but still trying to kill.
But its strength was fading fast. Its strike landed weakly against Gauss’s shield, doing no harm.
“...Ya...grrh...yaa…”
Its voice broke into ragged gasps.
A few seconds later, its arms gave out.
It collapsed forward, dead weight hanging off the spear.
Its final struggle only hastened its own death.
Gauss swallowed hard. The sheer ferocity of that dying lunge had left him shaking, breath coming in quick, shallow bursts.
Was it… dead?
It wasn’t moving—but he wasn’t taking any chances.
He yanked his spear back, kicking the goblin’s body off the tip.
Then, just to be sure, he stabbed it over and over in the chest, aiming for the heart—until its torso was an unrecognizable ss of blood and at.
Now it was dead. Definitely.
Suddenly, Gauss’s legs gave out, and he slumped down onto the stone, completely spent.
Looking down, he saw his front soaked in blood—his arms, his chest, the foul stench of goblin fluid clinging to his clothes.
There was nothing elegant about battle between a low-rank adventurer and a monster.
He gulped.
His mind kept replaying the goblin’s snarling face, its mad eyes. A chill ran through his scalp.
He wasn’t ntally fragile, but he needed a mont to settle himself.
Glancing at the corpse next to him—still and cold—and the sticky red blood on his hands, the whole thing felt surreal.
This wasn’t a ga.
This wasn’t an adventure.
It was real killing.
He sat in silence for a while.
Eventually, his breathing returned to normal, and the emotional weight of his first kill began to lift.
Humans are adaptable creatures.
He still felt uncomfortable, but he had already accepted what he had done—he had taken a life.
…
[Goblin Slain ×1.]
[Monster Index unlocked!]
[Total Monster Kills: 1. You’ve landed First Blood!]
[Reward Unlocked: Level 0 Cantrip – Mage Hand! Intelligence 1.]
[Goblin Kill Count: 1.]
[Title Earned: ‘Goblin Hunter.’ This title will upgrade as kills increase.]
[Current Bonus: Bane – 10% damage against goblins and related species.]
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