What They Call an Academy (7)

By the time I finished clearing the fourth village, something felt off.

“The numbers are way too low.”

I’d taken down thirty-one in the first, then thirty-six more in the second for a running total of sixty-seven. The third village, though, had held only seventeen—barely half of what came before. At first I wrote it off as a smaller settlement, but the doubt lingered.

I tightened my perimeter checks and double-checked every trap. My pace slowed a little, but caution never hurt anyone. When the village I hit this time yielded a mere eight goblins, that doubt hardened into certainty.

The goblins had moved.

This place wasn’t built for a skeleton crew. Judging by the size and the traces left in the dirt, it could easily house forty, maybe fifty. Yet they were gone. Where? And what were they planning?

They’re definitely gathering their numbers to avoid me.

Goblins are weak, but they’re no fools. If anything, their frailty makes them vicious—they’ll use traps, poison, whatever it takes to survive. At the same time, their middling intelligence means they hate abandoning anything they’ve already claimed.

I hadn’t let a single one escape so far. So how had they spotted me? Hive’s eyes hadn’t caught them. Growl’s senses hadn’t either.

Maybe some other goblin had stumbled across the path I’d already taken.

I’d only harvested the magic stones and left the corpses where they fell. Hunters returning from a raid would have found the slaughter, fled to another village, and spread word of a dangerous new predator. Unlike me, this forest was their backyard; it wouldn’t be strange if they’d outrun me and reached the next settlement first.

A sour unease settled in my gut. Years of novels and games had honed an instinct that was screaming now: this wasn’t something I could shrug off. What was it? What kept pricking at the back of my neck?

Assume the worst.

Something that had noticed me outside the bounds of common sense. Something strong-willed enough to command its own kind without a fight—and ruthless enough to discard or kill them the moment they became inconvenient. I reminded myself once more that this world was fantasy.

“…Evolution.”

A higher-tier specimen existed. The quest mission had already hinted at it. I pulled the quest text back up and read it again.

“Here.”

I zeroed in on the Cocot Mountains and the performance-based clause.

Quests aren’t handed out for free. The fact that a performance reward was listed meant you were expected to kill far more than the minimum of twenty.

It might sound cynical, but considering this dungeon sat inside the academy and counted as part of a class, the system was being downright generous. Some dungeons deliberately issue impossible missions just to watch you struggle; others give no mission at all and leave you to figure everything out yourself.

In other words, the dungeon’s E-rank wasn’t simply because the goblins lived in groups. Separate from the mission difficulty, there was a reason it had to stay E-rank—and that reason was the anomaly I was facing now.

“Hmm…”

The evolutions I’d seen so far offered choices based on an individual’s experiences and accumulated actions. In the novels and games of my previous life, demi-humans like goblins often evolved into something close to human job classes. This world was no different.

I hadn’t picked this place on a whim. I’d already finished researching goblin habits, behavior, weapon types, weaknesses, and every possible evolution path.

Thanks to the bonuses from my job Researcher and the skills Speed Reading and Observation, anything involving text or analysis sat well beyond ordinary human limits. The raised Technique and Intelligence stats helped too.

Stats and skills weren’t just for combat; they paid dividends everywhere. That was a law of this world, and it applied to more than just me. Given the right conditions, even a goblin could turn out clever.

Putting every trace I’d found together made the enemy easy to pin down. It had gathered a force without open conflict, led the group on the move, and done it all to counter and eliminate me.

“Commander.”

An individual evolved specifically to command and control the goblin species—one that grew stronger by placing other goblins under its banner. That thing was here in these mountains right now.

“Caw!!”

Hive’s cry confirmed my conclusion. One of the shadow crows I’d scattered for perimeter watch had spotted something.

“Grrrr…”

Growl, who had been lying down, rose and began to snarl. The underbrush ahead swayed without any wind. That wasn’t all. A low vibration in the ground, almost too faint to notice unless you focused, was drawing closer.

Ssssss…

“Keruk.”

The first to burst from the grass was a massive goblin.

If a normal goblin was the size of a five-year-old, this one looked past ten. Its distinguishing features were the long protruding fangs and the properly shaped weapon of bone and stone clutched in its hand.

“A Warrior, huh.”

“Kekekekek!!!”

The goblin warrior raised its stone axe high and let out a laugh that was more like a shriek.

“Keeeeeek!!”

“Kruuaaaak!!”

In an instant the surrounding brush filled with goblins, each brandishing a stone knife and answering the call.

“…Noisy.”

The sudden appearance startled me, but that was all. A quick glance at the sky showed roughly ten minutes left before the safe zone expired.

Until that timer hit zero, I was safe. Proof enough: the goblins kept their eyes locked on me yet circled at a fixed distance, as if something invisible barred their way.

That didn’t mean I could relax. I still needed to move before they locked down the entire area.

The real question was how. Running was off the table. Bolting through unknown traps would only multiply the danger. More than that, the fact that they’d gotten this close without Hive detecting them was suspicious.

Some skill or trait had to be at work. That meant others were still hidden, watching from cover.

Danger, yes—but also opportunity.

If they were showing themselves, they were confident they could finish me. High odds that most of the goblins in this mountain range—the dungeon called Goblin’s Lair—had gathered right here.

Wipe them all out in one go and I wouldn’t have to waste time wandering around anymore.

I actually liked the sound of that.

I’d already scouted the map; a second run would get me here quickly. Whatever else waited deeper in, I could reach it faster and cleaner next time.

“This is going to be easy.”

“Woof!”

Because anything can happen inside a dungeon, I’d deliberately kept a steady rest schedule even if it slowed progress. My body felt no fatigue. If anything, the last village’s low count had left both me and Growl half-finished and itching for more.

Growl hadn’t said anything, but I knew he was disappointed at resting after so few kills.

Ever since he’d tasted blood, the number of goblins he’d finished exceeded fifty. Except for the unavoidable ones, he’d cleanly torn out every throat and drunk deep. That accumulation had piled into Wild Instinct, giving off a savage light.

That was the effect of Wild Instinct.

Right now Growl was a bomb one spark away from exploding. Proof: the moment the goblin warrior appeared, his breathing roughened and a faint red glow began to overflow from his yellow pupils.

The second I gave the order he would leap out and start butchering. Perfect tension. He looked in better condition than usual. What did that mean? I couldn’t picture myself losing.

“Growl.”

“Kung!!! Awooooo!”

He answered vigorously and used Howling, coiling power into his hind legs. Feeling strength surge through my own body, I smirked and gave the command.

“Sit.”

“Grrr! …Whine?”

No matter how eager he was for a fight, we still needed to prepare. Charge in like this and we’d be surrounded instantly. Ah—right, his Intelligence was pretty low.

He looked up at me with the pitiful face of a dog whose chew toy had just been stolen. I roughly ruffled his head, then walked into the village and pulled out a jar. More accurately, a clay pot shaped like a jar.

Thanks to whatever scrap of intelligence they possessed, the pot was packed with oil used for lighting fires. White fat floated on the surface—probably rendered from animals. I’d also found a poison-like mixture of dung, animal carcasses, and strange herbs.

I’d suspected a higher-tier specimen the moment I first found these. Goblins might be clever for their kind, but not this clever. Nothing in my research said ordinary goblins used oil or poison.

That was why I’d been conserving stamina—for whatever variables might appear.

I’d wondered why they even kept the stuff if they never used it. Maybe they simply took what was given and never reached the stage of applying it. Fine. Then someone who could use it would.

First I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠tore down the village and built a makeshift barricade to obstruct enemy movement and line of sight as much as possible. Common sense says a narrow entrance favors the few against the many, but that’s ordinary tactics. To properly leverage Hive and Growl, using the debris as cover was far more profitable.

Thank whatever for the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠unknown force called mana. It let me make up for lacking muscle with pure destructive power, so the work finished quickly. If I’d had to build the barricade with raw strength alone, I’d have been spent before the fight even started.

The finishing touch, of course, had to be flashy. In this case, the spark that would announce the start of battle.

“Caaaaaw!!”

Hive and the shadow crows, laden with the pots, took to the air and began raining oil in every direction.

“Keeek?”

“Kek…! Tuekerek…!”

Some goblins opened their mouths thinking it was rain and immediately gagged. Others scrambled to dodge the falling oil. The best reaction belonged to the goblin warrior: it realized too late what the liquid was, saw me standing with a torch, and froze in horror.

“Ke…!”

“Too late.”

Clang!!

A pot smashed onto the head of the warrior mid-command. Even after soaking the surroundings there was still plenty left; the oil instantly flooded every hole in its face.

The moment it tried to shake off the sticky film, I hurled the torch.

“Keek!! Keeeeeek!!!!”

“Welcome to hellfire, you little bastards.”

The warrior’s delayed, agonized scream threw the rest of the goblins into chaos. Judging the situation hopeless, the warrior tried to flee—but it was already too late.

Fwoosh

Flames raced out from where the torch landed, and

BOOM!!!!

A massive explosion followed. Fire riding the oil ballooned in an instant, climbing high enough to claw at the sky and detonating outward wherever the oil had spread. The goblins inside thrashed and tried to escape, but even their screams never made it out.

I stationed Growl on the oil-free side so he could strike at any moment. Until now the fights had been mindless attack spam; this one required delicate control using the terrain.

“Hive, leave support and bring more oil.”

“Caw!!”

Leaving two shadow crows with me and Growl, Hive winged toward the third village. Preparations were complete.

The system voice rang in my ears at the same moment I lunged forward, swinging a mana-charged steel pipe with everything I had at the goblin warrior bursting through the flames.

Clang!!

“Kuruk…!”

Its face, already melted and twisted by full-body burns, twisted further with a wet crunch as the head snapped the wrong way, then tore clean off and flew into the distance.

Obvious result. No matter how big it was, it was still just a large specimen among small goblins. Against someone over six feet, the weight class was completely different.

“Got myself a spare weapon out of it… Ah, hot!”

Of course it was—it had just been inside a fireball.

The bone itself had weight, so it felt heavier than the pipe, but the balance was off and awkward to put power into. The fire had also left its durability questionable. Either way, it wouldn’t last long.

“Three or four good hits if I’m lucky?”

The steel pipe had held up better than expected; anything mediocre would have bent long ago.

“Hup!”

Thud

“Keheuk.”

I tested it on a goblin that had dodged Growl’s rampage and charged my way. The sound was dull, the feedback poor. No crisp ring, no satisfying vibration traveling up the arms the way the pipe delivered. It didn’t even feel like I’d hit anything.

There was a reason thugs across every era and culture favored the humble pipe.

I tucked the axe into my belt, gripped the pipe in both hands again, and methodically finished the goblins still alive despite the fire before heading toward Growl.

“Oh.”

“Awooooooo!!!!”

As expected, ordinary goblins were no match for him. The one currently facing him, however—a goblin draped in black cloth—was different. Even against Growl, whose eyes were now more than half red, it was only slightly losing ground while putting up a real fight.

“Hoh…”

If I had to name it, Goblin Thief felt about right. Specializing in agility, it dodged the lethal bites and tanked the less dangerous claw swipes with a grace rare for a goblin.

No—watching it with Observation was actually useful. I would have liked to keep studying, but Growl still had plenty of prey left.

The time he spent on this one could have netted five more ordinary kills. I picked up a nearby goblin-made stone dagger and threw it the instant the thief rolled to evade Growl’s attack.

“…Ket?!”

The sudden gap made it hesitate—dodge the dagger or not? That half-second of sluggishness was all Growl needed. He opened his jaws wide and lunged without hesitation.

Still wearing an expression of pure disbelief and resentment, the thief squeezed out one last breath and swung its stone dagger—

Crunch!

—but Growl was faster, crushing its head in a single bite. The dagger clattered from nerveless fingers. Growl snorted in mild dissatisfaction and shook the blood from his fur.

One more down.

Thanks to the Goblin Thief I’d gained insight into movement that would be useful against larger magical beasts. Physical differences meant it would feel awkward at first, but once mastered it would come in handy. Seeing is believing; when I had spare time I’d spar with Growl directly.

“So then.”

Thump

I rested the steel pipe on my shoulder and looked toward the far forest. Earlier I couldn’t see a thing, but the spreading fire now lit the interior clearly. An almost absurd number of goblins were staring back at me—so many I wondered how I’d ever missed them.

“When are you coming out?”

Among them, one figure stood out: eyes glittering with unrestrained killing intent. Its build was average or even smaller than the others, and it wore what looked like a goblin skull as a helmet—a grotesque sight.

“Kekker…!”

The unusual part was its black skin.

Not a Goblin Commander, then.

The surrounding goblins were positioned protectively around it, so I’d assumed it was the leader or at least boss-tier. Wrong. Distinctive, but that was all.

It looked more like a shaman than a commander.

The staff in its small hands was topped with a skull matching the one on its head. Bone ornaments covered its arms, legs, and neck in place of clothing, and geometric red tattoos blanketed its entire body.

The whole look screamed a desperate attempt to declare itself different from the rabble around it—so pathetic it was almost funny.

The pitiful creature, forced into gear that didn’t fit, still radiated killing intent toward me while slowly edging backward. The way it did so without the others noticing spoke of long practice.

That told me everything about its personality. It was a coward. Even with this many goblins under its command, it never stepped forward—only hid behind them and pulled strings. I shot it a mocking sneer.

“What, running away again?”

It froze.

Whether it understood the words or simply felt the mockery, the creature that had been retreating turned only its stiff neck toward me like an unoiled robot, then raised its staff high in a sudden rage.

“Keeeee!!!!!”

““Kee!! Kekekekeke!!!!””

The surrounding goblins answered the howl. Black powder spilled from the staff and scattered; veins bulged on every goblin, eyes rolled back, and drool poured from their mouths. Their minds were clearly gone, yet their bodies kept moving.

Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!!

“Kehe!!!”

““Kieeeek! Kererek! Kak!!””

They stomped in a steady rhythm and cried out like soldiers singing a war chant to raise morale. The madness didn’t stop there.

While still stomping they began clawing and stabbing one another with razor nails, tearing open guts and throats, choking on bloody foam—yet never stopping.

“…Insane.”

The cause was obvious: the single intact figure among them, spinning its bone staff toward the sky.

The mission had already stated it. They rejoiced while offering sacrifices to an evil god. At first I’d thought that meant the ones who twisted prey’s necks and bathed in blood. Apparently not.

“So it goes something like this.”

The goblins of these mountains had begun worshipping a wicked evil god. The black goblin was its follower, and the others were half-dominated by that foul power. The sacrifices it offered the evil god were its own kin.

Cannibalism among one’s own race—one of the most forbidden sins.

Meaning even this act was part of the sacrificial rite. A chill ran down my spine. I had to stop it. Otherwise something dangerous was coming.

“Growl!”

“Awooooo!!!”

Growl unleashed Howling and charged, red eyes blazing. Half-dead goblins staggered into his path but were simply flung aside. I sprinted after him, yet the ritual finished first.

Growl’s jaws closed on its neck a fraction too late; the staff struck the ground first.

“Keek…! Kruaaaa!!!!”

Boom!!

With the scream and the staff’s impact, every surrounding goblin’s head exploded. Ash-gray energy poured from the corpses into the black goblin, and its body began to swell.

“Back!!”

Crash!

The order left my mouth just as an unnaturally swollen black arm smashed into the spot Growl had occupied. A heartbeat later and it would have ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠been Growl crushed under that arm instead of goblin corpses.

“Kee…kerrr, K…Rrr….rrr……!!!!!!!!!”

Its body twisted and ballooned grotesquely. Bones punched through the emaciated frame. The pure-white bones blackened, warping and shimmering like summer heat haze—exactly the shape of a demon that had defied the natural order.

“…Fuck me. That’s E-rank?”

“Grrrrrrr…!”

When the distortion finally stopped, what remained was a flower.

Gaunt black bones had grown straight upward; scraps of flesh served as petals. The skulls of the exploded goblins hung from the tips like fruit, swaying. No trace of the original goblin form remained.

There was no ear-splitting roar the way most monsters would give.

Clack

A skull rattled. Then another, and another, until the forest that had been silent a moment ago filled with the clatter of bone.

Then, abruptly—silence.

The presence radiating a different vector of menace made me swallow hard. Growl still bristled with hostility, ready for battle. The black bone stalks that had stretched skyward creaked as they turned toward us.

And so the boss fight began.