"Die, goblin!"
Thrandic punched a fleeing goblin to death.
He didn't pay any attention to why these goblins were rushing towards him, knowing it ant certain death.
Nor did he care why these goblins were fleeing in such disarray.
"Foucault." A voice echoed from the dark cave.
Daylight cast upon Ogre.
There was no sign that he had just slaughtered in the cave, as there wasn't a trace of blood on his clothes.
"Ogre, how did you co out so quickly?" Foucault, standing guard at the entrance, asked with slight surprise.
"Here." Ogre tossed a cloth bundle in front of Foucault, and as it unraveled, two goblin heads rolled out.
These two goblin heads were definitely peculiar among goblins.
One was twice the size of a normal goblin's head, with tusks protruding everywhere.
The other had traces of magical patterns on its face, with a half-buried black nail in the center of its forehead.
These were the heads of the dead Great Goblin and the Goblin Shaman.
"You took care of them all?!"
Foucault's eyes widened in surprise. It wasn't shocking that Ogre had defeated the Great Goblin and the Goblin Shaman, but his efficiency was astonishing.
How long had it been? Not even ten minutes, and he had finished them off?
It took less ti than traveling here. Was the combination of a tank and a mage really that easy to deal with?
"I'm a professional." Ogre unfastened the clasp of his patterned mask, removed it, and said.
"This ti, luck was on our side. The won they captured are still alive." Ogre wiped the mask and placed it back in his bag.
His relaxed deanor was as if he had just taken a stroll, not fought a battle.
Of course, Foucault didn't know the significance of Ogre's mask.
The Goblin Butcher was known not only among goblins but also among so captives Ogre had rescued, who spread his legend.
It was just that the ti was too short, and his fa hadn't spread widely yet.
"Captives?" Foucault was montarily stunned, then saw a dozen won with different hair colors dragging chains that hadn't been fully removed as they erged from the cave. Two of them were unconscious and being supported.
Foucault then understood why Ogre hadn't used the smoke and fire tactic from the start.
Since it was to save people, he had nothing more to say.
'Let him do as he pleases.' Foucault's frustration at not being able to fight eased a bit.
He wasn't particularly fond of Ogre's all-encompassing style—he wasn't so slacker, after all.
"Unfortunately, there's no treasure in this cave." Ogre glanced around and then asked Foucault for a knife: "Captain, can I borrow a knife?"
Foucault looked at the survivors who had narrowly escaped death, then turned back to Ogre: "What do you need a knife for?"
"To chop so firewood and smoke them out. I think there are still so goblins that aren't completely dead." Ogre replied.
"Is that really necessary?" Foucault felt it was a bit excessive, but he still took a longsword from his Void Pocket and handed it to Ogre: "I don't have a knife, but this sword should do."
Ogre took the sword, weighed it in his hand, and nodded in satisfaction: "This should be good for chopping wood."
"What do you plan to do with these people?" Foucault didn't realize he was starting to rely on Ogre's opinion.
"Have Lange and Thrandic escort them to the village, along with the mission proof and the two goblin heads. I'll catch up later."
Ogre picked up the sword and casually began chopping branches from a nearby tree.
With the heads of the leaders, there was no need to collect those tusks. Of course, the rescued won could also serve as eyewitnesses.
"Never mind, I'll wait for you. It's not like we're in a rush." Seeing Ogre's attitude, Foucault decided not to press further.
He began to organize and comfort the rescued won, while also starting to ask questions.
After a few questions, Foucault had a rough understanding of the situation.
He then lifted his leg, braced himself, and prepared to enter the cave for a look.
But he had barely taken two steps when Ogre called out to him: "Captain Foucault, you should be prepared."
Ogre was a bit worried that this young master from the inner city wouldn't be able to handle the environnt inside.
He hadn't brought them into the nest for a reason. Monster nests were usually chaotic, and after his slaughter, it was bound to be even more disgusting.
"I'm not that fragile." Foucault waved his hand without looking back, then cast a light spell on his staff and headed straight into the cave.
He wanted to overco his aversion to the environnt.
He also wanted to add so challenge to himself. This mission had been too easy, making him feel a bit bored.
Ogre watched Foucault dive in with so interest—he wanted to see how Foucault would react when he ca out.
"Hopefully, this young master can live up to his words." Ogre shook his head and continued chopping wood.
Foucault's actions clearly stemd from his frustration at hesitating earlier.
The outskirts of the Demon Beast Forest were very close to human towns, so powerful and intelligent monster groups rarely gathered here.
Only weak but highly reproductive goblins would be pushed out and choose to raid human villages for reproduction and survival.
Of course, they only targeted villages; they couldn't even approach frontier towns.
"Where's the young master?"
Lange, after killing a few goblins and waiting without seeing any more, left his post and ca to the main cave entrance.
His unauthorized departure made Ogre slightly displeased.
However, since Lange wasn't his subordinate, Ogre wouldn't say anything even if he was displeased.
He just couldn't help but look down on this rash knight a bit more.
"He just went in, don't worry, I've already cleared it." Ogre carried the chopped wood around the won and placed it in front of the cave.
"If the young master went in, then I must..." Lange's words were cut off when he saw a beam of light shining from the cave entrance.
He instinctively beca alert but then recognized the person—it was Foucault, who had cast a light spell.
"Ugh..." Foucault had barely walked out of the cave when he leaned against the wall and began to vomit.
"Young master, are you alright?" Lange hurriedly rushed over, even ignoring the rescued won.
Foucault just raised his hand to indicate he was fine, but he was still bent over, retching. After a couple of heaves, he couldn't vomit anything else, just dry heaving.
It was evident he had already vomited inside.
The environnt, more disgusting than a slaughterhouse, could easily make a novice adventurer nauseous.
What Foucault had seen in his previous life couldn't compare to this.
"I'll be fine in a while..." Ogre took out a small bottle from his bag, opened the cap, and sprinkled so on the woodpile.
So black powder slid onto the wood from the bottle.
Even if the wood was dry, it was hard to ignite, and even if it did, the smoke wouldn't be strong enough, so it needed so help.
"Ah..." After taking a few deep breaths, disregarding his image and the sll, Foucault finally regained his composure.
He wanted so adventure, but not this kind of intense experience.
"I'm fine, Lange." Foucault waved his hand.
But this ti, when he looked at Ogre, who seed unfazed, there was a hint of admiration in his eyes.
'Is this guy really soone who grew up in such an environnt...'
He finally understood why Ogre insisted they stay outside.
"Next ti, next ti I'll go with you." Foucault thought he wouldn't be so vulnerable next ti.
"Among the newcors I've seen, you're already quite good." Ogre said honestly.
So newcors, when panicked, were much worse than Foucault. Not to ntion the inner city, even newcors from frontier towns didn't perform well the first ti they encountered such a scene.
Many apprentice professionals didn't die because of their abilities but because of their mindset.
What limited them wasn't their ability or talent but their mindset at the mont, whether it was fear, arrogance, or... greed.
Perhaps, if they grew up, they would beco excellent professionals, but...
In reality, many things don't give you the chance to adapt step by step.
"Were you like this when you first ca?"
Foucault realized why the adventurer guild had a zero-star level...
Directly facing goblins as a newcor might not be a good idea.
Using tedious tasks to suppress a newcor's mindset was indeed a good thod, and it also allowed them to understand the destruction and harm of these low-level monsters in various villages.
"?" Ogre thought for a mont, recalling that he hadn't experienced anything like that.
After all, he was half an ogre...
"I don't rember." Ogre just shook his head and smiled, deciding to leave the young master so dignity.
"We should really level this place..." Foucault stopped the light spell on his staff and completely exited the cave.
"Young master..." Lange quickly went to him, seeing Foucault so out of sorts for the first ti.
"Lange, go take those two heads." Foucault's mood hadn't been relieved; it had beco more complicated. He opened his Void Pocket and took out a bottle of water to drink.
He had to thank Ogre for feeding him that awful fruit; otherwise, he might have vomited even more.
"Yes." Lange wanted to say sothing but ultimately kept quiet, deciding to speak later...
"Captain Foucault, could you help with a fireball?" Ogre could light the fire with so effort, but with a mage nearby, why not take advantage?
"Uh, sure." Foucault looked at the sowhat carefree Ogre and suddenly doubted himself, wondering if he had overthought things earlier.
This kid might have a simple purpose after all.
"Fire, burn through the gaps!"
Foucault raised his wrist towards the woodpile and recited a simple magic incantation—Fireball.
Suddenly, a ball of fla shot from Foucault's raised palm.
Magic incantations are used to focus the mind, assist in channeling mana, and enhance the effect of manifesting magic. They are one of the non-essential ans of casting magic.
For control-type mages, incantations are indispensable.
Although Foucault could cast silently, he wasn't in the mood for it now. Silent casting requires a certain level of concentration and ntal state.
As the fireball hit the woodpile, the unknown powder Ogre had sprinkled earlier caused the fire to blaze up instantly.
"Could you do a wind spell too?" Ogre pointed inside the cave, thinking it wouldn't be hard to ask for one more favor.
Foucault rolled his eyes at Ogre but didn't argue, instead beginning a quick chant.
"Wind, rise up and et the front!"
Low-level magic incantations are simple, as they're just for focusing the mind.
Incantations have pros and cons because you can often tell what spell a mage is casting from the words.
For example, "Wind spirit, gather around "—this is typically a wind shield or wind armor.
Or "Wind, beco a blade and sweep the front"—this is a typical wind blade spell.
If you add words like fierce or strong, the magic's power increases significantly.
Of course, to prevent this trait of incantations from being used against them, mages use several thods in battle.
The first: rapid chanting, where if you chant fast enough and stay focused, the opponent can't process the incantation's effect.
The second: silent casting or prepared casting, which avoids the awkwardness of reciting spells in a fight.
The third: word substitution or misleading, where clever mages insert fake words into incantations without affecting the spell's efficiency to mislead opponents.
So mages can even chant one spell while casting another.
This involves replacing the aning of words in the incantation with another, similar to self-hypnosis or language translation.
"Magic is really convenient." Ogre watched the wind rise and couldn't help but praise.
This was the power he had once longed for.
Soon, under the influence of the smoke, the last goblins hiding in the cave's dark corners couldn't help but flee through other exits.
Thrandic, who was waiting, greeted them with a flurry of punches, and the quick-footed goblins couldn't escape Ogre and Foucault's ranged attacks.
After about ten minutes of work, Ogre confird that there were no surviving goblins left inside.
"What's that?" Lange asked, looking at the bag in Ogre's hand—how did this guy have an endless supply of stuff?
"This is flour I found in the goblin nest, probably looted from a village." Ogre took out the remaining black powder and mixed it all into the flour.
Lange: "What's the use of flour..."
"What are you doing?" Foucault was also curious. Ogre's movents made him think they were about to leave.
"Blow up the entrance so it won't beco a goblin gathering spot again." With the last of the breeze, Ogre opened the bag of mixed flour and powder and scattered it into the cave.
The wind carried the dust throughout the cave.
"Everyone, step back." Ogre warned.
Though puzzled, everyone complied.
Ogre then skillfully picked up a piece of flint.
Boom—!
As the flint sparked against the cave wall, a violent explosion occurred right before their eyes.
They finally understood what Ogre ant by stepping back.
"What... what happened!" Lange asked instinctively, watching the explosion.
"I'm not sure about the principle, just know it can explode like this. Hmm... let's say I read it in a book." Ogre replied casually.
He had indeed seen it in a half-book he found on the black market, supposedly printed by the Church of Truth.
Who knows why such useful knowledge hadn't spread.
"Though it can't destroy the cave, it can keep it clean for a long ti." Ogre looked at the falling rocks.
The collapse of the main cave effectively prevented goblins from quickly repopulating it, compressing their living space.
"You really are..." Foucault looked at Ogre, unsure how to evaluate this boy about his age.
Steady, yet sotis careless; careless, yet ticulous in his actions.
If he wasn't so interested in money, he'd be a perfect friend.
It's hard to imagine this guy is the sa age as him.
"Goblins deserve to die!" Thrandic's opinion was simple.
"Alright, enough sentintality. There's nothing more to see here. Let's go, we should turn in the mission; today's adventure has just begun..."
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