The sight of the goblin horde boiling out of the mine was a primal, terrifying spectacle. It was a tide of snarling, green-skinned malice, and it was flowing directly towards me. Panic, cold and sharp, tried to sink its claws into my mind, but I beat it back with a surge of pure, defiant rage. 'He called me a little mouse.' The thought was a shield. The memory of Julius' condescending smile was a whetstone, sharpening my fear into a weapon.
I didn't have time to be afraid. I had seconds to act before that disorganized mob became a charging army.
My first action was purely informational. I focused on the largest heat signature, the one burning with a brighter, more intense energy at the heart of the swarm.
[Observe]
[GoblinShaman]
Level: 6
ThreatLevel: Moderate
Description: A goblin that has developed a crude, instinctual connection to elemental spirits. Capable of casting rudimentary earth and decay magic. Often serves as a leader, using its limited intelligence to direct the lesser goblins.
Weaknesses: Fire, arrogance.
Abilities: [PebbleShot], [Enfeeble].
A magic user. A Level 6 magic user. This changed the entire dynamic of the fight. It wasn't just a numbers game anymore... It was a duel. While the grunts were a threat, the Shaman was the brain. I had to cut off the head of the snake.
But the snake had sixteen other venomous parts, and they were all closing in. Elara's voice cut through the chaos in my head: *Control the battlefield.*
The ravine. It was a natural chokepoint. The goblins were pouring out of the mine and funneling into this narrow, rocky channel before they could spread out. If I could cork that bottle, I could turn their greatest strength, their numbers, into a fatal weakness.
My eyes darted across the scene, my mind processing it like a tactical map. The ridge gave me the high ground. The ravine was my kill box. And I had the perfect tool for the job.
It would be a massive drain on my mana. It would be a spectacle. But it was my only chance.
I rose from my cover, planting my feet firmly on the rocky ground. I stretched out both hands, not towards the goblins, but towards the mouth of the ravine itself. I pulled on my mana, drawing a huge, greedy draught from my core, a full third of my total pool, over 50 points. The power surged down my arms, a tingling, electric thrill.
I pictured the wall. Not a simple fence of fire, but a roaring, impassable inferno. Ten feet high. Twenty feet long. A curtain of pure destruction.
[FLAMEWALL]!
The world erupted in a deafening *FWOOSH*. A line of fire tore across the mouth of the ravine, erupting from the very stones. It was more magnificent and terrifying than I could have imagined. A solid wall of churning, white-hot flame roared to life, casting flickering, demonic shadows across the entire area. The heat washed over me even from my position on the ridge, a physical blow that made the air shimmer.
The effect on the goblins was immediate and devastating. The ones at the front of the charge, who had been moments from spilling out onto the open ground, ran headlong into the fiery barrier. Their shrieks of surprise turned into screams of agony as they were instantly burned alive, their bodies turning to blackened, flaming scarecrows. The ones behind them recoiled in terror, a wave of green bodies crashing into itself, creating a chaotic, panicked bottleneck.
The battlefield was controlled. Phase one complete.
Now, for phase two: systematic extermination.
The goblins were in disarray. Some were trying to claw their way up the steep, rocky sides of the ravine. Others were firing arrows wildly in my direction. Several of the arrows arced towards me, black streaks against the fiery backdrop. I ducked, feeling one whistle past my ear. Another struck my new leather cuirass with a sharp *thwack*. I felt the impact, a solid punch to my ribs, but the hardened leather held. The arrowhead failed to bite. A surge of gratitude for Gregory's advice shot through me.
I focused on the archers first. They were the most immediate threat to my commanding position. I unleashed a quick succession of [Firebolt]'s, my [ManaControl] sub-skill allowing me to form and fire them with an efficiency that would have been impossible just a week ago. Each bolt was a precise, deadly missile. One archer took a bolt to the chest and fell backward into the panicked mob. Another was struck in the leg, its screech of pain adding to the cacophony as it dropped its bow.
The smoke from the [FlameWall] and the burning goblins was beginning to billow upwards, a thick, greasy black column rising into the sky. A sudden, cold thought pierced my battle focus. *A signal fire.*
Elara's warnings about the Mages' Guild, about the strict regulations on unlicensed magic, flashed in my mind. A fire this large, this unnatural, wouldn't go unnoticed for long. The Whisperwood wasn't a true wilderness; it was bordered by farms and patrolled by the city guard. Anyone seeing that pillar of smoke would come to investigate. A merchant, a ranger, or worse, a Guild patrol. If they found me standing over a pile of toasted goblins, my hands still glowing with magic, my life as a free woman would be over. The best I could hope for was forced conscription. The worst… I didn't want to think about the worst.
The fear was real, but so was the goblin trying to scale the ravine wall to my left.
*Survival now. Consequences later.*
I blasted the climbing goblin off the rock face with another [Firebolt] and hardened my resolve. I would end this. Quickly.
My attention snapped back to the Shaman. It had recovered from the initial shock and was now trying to restore order. It was screeching commands in its guttural language, pointing at me with a gnarled, staff-like branch. It was smarter than the others, staying near the back of the pack, using its grunts as a meat shield.
It pointed its staff at me. A sickly green light gathered at the tip.
[PebbleShot]
With a flick of its wrist, a rock the size of my fist, glowing with the same green energy, shot towards me with incredible speed. I threw myself to the side, the rock whistling past where my head had been and shattering against the cliff face behind me. It hit with the force of a sling bullet. That would have been a kill shot.
This was a duel now.
The Shaman was protected. I couldn't get a clear shot. I needed to thin the herd.
I shifted my targeting from the archers to the general mass of panicked goblins, firing bolt after bolt into the churning chaos. My mana was draining steadily, the familiar ache beginning behind my eyes. I wasn't aiming for clean kills anymore; I was aiming for maximum disruption. A bolt to a goblin's leg would make it stumble, tripping the one behind it. A near miss that set the ground on fire would create another pocket of terror. I was a fiery artist, and my canvas was their panic.
The Shaman tried to counter. It cast another spell, [Enfeeble]. A wave of nauseating green energy washed over the area. I felt it brush against me, a sudden, draining weakness that made my limbs feel heavy.
[You have been afflicted by [Enfeeble]!]
Effect: Strength and Dexterity temporarily reduced by 2 points. Duration: 30 seconds.
My movements became sluggish. The simple act of aiming felt like lifting a lead weight. The Shaman seized the opportunity, directing its remaining warriors to climb the walls.
I grit my teeth against the magical lethargy. I couldn't dodge another [PebbleShot] like this. I needed to end it. My [FlameWall] was starting to flicker, its duration nearly spent. It had already consumed a huge chunk of my mana, and I couldn't afford to recast it.
The wall died, guttering out with a final hiss of smoke. The path was open. The remaining goblins, maybe six or seven grunts led by the furious Shaman, let out a triumphant roar and charged.
The [Enfeeble] was fading, my normal speed returning just in time. I scrambled back from the edge of the ridge, breaking line of sight. I needed a new plan. The head-on approach had worked to thin them out, but now they were adapting.
I retreated deeper into the trees that lined the ridge. The goblins, seeing me fall back, clambered up onto the ridge, their bloodlust making them careless. The Shaman stayed behind them, still using them as a shield.
'Cunning, not just strong.' I thought, my breath coming in ragged gasps. I leaned against a thick oak, my mana pool now below a third. I had maybe three good firebolts left. Not enough.
Then I remembered my first fight. The desperation. The improvisation. The ricochet.
The ground here was rocky. The trees were thick. I had cover.
I peered around the tree. The goblins were spreading out, hunting for me among the trees. Perfect.
I dropped into a low crouch, my hand touching the damp earth. I channeled a [Firebolt], but I didn't pour power into it. I poured *control*. I visualized the path: from my hand, to the flat-faced rock in front of me, to the unarmored back of the nearest goblin's knee.
I fired. The bolt zipped out, struck the rock with a *crack*, and veered off at a sharp angle, hitting the goblin precisely where I had intended. It howled and collapsed, clutching its burning leg.
One down.
The others turned toward the sound, confused. Before they could pinpoint me, I sent another ricochet shot, this time bouncing it off the trunk of a tree. It caught a second goblin in the side, staggering it.
It was working. They were used to magic coming in a straight line. This was something they couldn't comprehend. They started swinging their axes wildly, hacking at shadows.
The Shaman, however, was not so easily fooled. Its eyes scanned the battlefield, and it saw the impact points. It understood. It shrieked, pointing its staff directly at the tree I was hiding behind.
I didn't wait to see what would happen. I pushed off the tree and sprinted to a new position behind a cluster of boulders as the Shaman's [PebbleShot] slammed into the oak, gouging a huge chunk of wood from the trunk.
My mana was critical. I had one shot left. The Shaman was now exposed, having moved ahead of its remaining two bodyguards. This was my chance.
I poured every last drop of my remaining mana into a final, desperate [Firebolt]. I didn't try for a trick shot. I put everything I had into raw, overwhelming power. The bolt that formed in my hand was blindingly bright, the air around it crackling with contained energy.
I stepped out from behind the boulders. The Shaman saw me, its face a mask of rage. It began to chant, green light gathering around it.
I was faster.
I launched my final attack. The bolt screamed across the clearing. The Shaman tried to bring its staff up to block, but it was too slow. The bolt hit it center mass.
The effect was spectacular. The Shaman's body erupted in a flash of white-hot fire. The concussive force of the spell sent its two bodyguards flying. For a split second, the Shaman was a silhouette of black ash against a miniature sun, and then it was simply gone.
[Enemy Defeated: Goblin Shaman (Level 6)!]
[You have earned 500 XP!]
[You have reached Level 6!]
[You have gained 5 Attribute Points and 1 Skill Point]
[You have reached Level 7]
[You have gained 5 Attribute Points and 1 Skill Point]
[Loot Gained: [Shaman's Gnarled Staff], [Pouch of Strange Herbs], [Goblin Chief's Ear].]
The two remaining goblins picked themselves up. They looked at the spot where their leader had been. They looked at me, standing there, panting, my hands empty of fire. Then they looked at each other, dropped their weapons, and fled, disappearing into the woods with panicked squeals.
I had won.
The strength went out of my legs, and I collapsed to my knees. The Mana Depletion Sickness hit me like a physical blow, a wave of nausea and a pounding headache that made the world spin. My entire body ached.
But the cascade of blue notifications in my vision was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen. Two levels. In one fight. Ten attribute points. Two skill points. The risk had been immense, but the reward was staggering.
I pushed myself to my feet, my legs trembling. I couldn't stay here. The smoke was still thick in the air. I scavenged the battlefield as quickly as I could, my stomach churning at the sight and smell of the carnage I had wrought. I collected the Shaman's staff and pouches, ignoring the grimy teeth of the grunts. The staff was surprisingly light, and it hummed with a faint, residual energy.
I needed a place to hide, to recover, and to spend my points. The mine itself was the obvious choice. It was dark, defensible, and out of sight.
Leaning heavily on the Shaman's staff for support, I made my way down into the ravine. The entrance to the mine was a dark, foreboding maw in the rock. It smelled of goblin filth and damp stone. But right now, it was the safest place in the world.
I stumbled inside, leaving the smoking battlefield and the rising sun behind me. The darkness of the mine enveloped me, and I sank to the floor just inside the entrance, my back against the cold rock. The battle was over. I had survived. I had leveled up.
And as the exhaustion finally claimed me, I allowed myself a grim, triumphant smile. I was no mouse. I was the fire that cleanses the plague.