Goblins were... complicated creatures.

Most were wicked yet weak, cruel yet cowardly: contradictory traits that somehow fit them perfectly.

An ordinary goblin was thin and scrawny, about the size of a human child, and not much stronger. Under normal circumstances, a well-trained militiaman could handle three adult goblins alone.

They relied on numbers. Goblins possessed astonishing reproductive capacity, four or five offspring per litter being common, and were incredibly hardy. They could grow up eating mud if necessary.

They existed everywhere: in the wilderness, in underground caverns, in forests. There was almost nowhere goblins could not survive.

For most adventurers, goblins were the first monsters they ever encountered. Though weak, they were still exceedingly dangerous.

They possessed intelligence comparable to humans. They set traps, wove schemes, and were innately vicious. Even juvenile goblins could tear out an enemy's throat without hesitation.

During his years as an adventurer, Ambrose had dealt with more than his share of goblins. He had also witnessed the grisly fate of adventurers captured by them.

Thus he said to Catherine, "Stand aside for now. I'll handle these goblins."

Catherine frowned. "Why? I don't need protection."

She might seem a little naïve at times, but her combat strength was formidable. As a legend twice over, with three elven divine artifacts in hand, Catherine might well beat Ambrose in a duel.

He did not explain further. "I'm a diviner. Trust me."

"...Fine."

Catherine possessed the awareness appropriate to a hired hand. If her employer said not to interfere, then she would simply watch. Still, why had this lich suddenly become concerned about her?

Once she obediently withdrew, casting Invisibility on herself for good measure, Ambrose rode Naomi toward the goblin camp.

The goblin sentry blew a horn in alarm. The camp gates swung open. Over a dozen goblins in ragged leather armor rushed out, brandishing crude weapons.

Their leader stood half a head taller than the rest, broader and stronger. He wore thin iron armor instead of leather and wielded a spiked flail, which he swung wildly at Ambrose.

Earlier, to move easily through the dense forest, Naomi had reduced her size, so Ambrose did not appear particularly threatening. The goblin chief roared, "Which donkey-kicked idiot dares cause trouble here?!"

Ambrose raised a hand. "Don't misunderstand. I'm merely a passing adventurer asking for directions. If you could provide a map of the area, I'd be most grateful."

"Adventurer? Map?"

The goblin chief scratched his head. "You're from outside?"

It was a pointless question, but Ambrose answered patiently, "Yes. I've just arrived in the Emerald Dreamwood and need a guide."

At that moment, the goblin from the watchtower slid down a rope and whispered into the chief's ear, "Boss, he wasn't alone earlier. There was a human girl too. She disappeared."

"A human girl?!"

The chief's eyes gleamed. He scanned the area but saw nothing of Catherine.

His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Then he said to Ambrose, "Ah, guests from afar! We are very hospitable. Please, come inside. We'll talk. And if you have companions, bring them in for a drink."

Ambrose watched the performance calmly. He had considered avoiding unnecessary trouble, unfamiliar as he was with the land. But goblins never changed their nature.

He smiled. "Sure, but I don't drink. Can I take the equivalent in cash instead?"

The goblin chief blinked.

He had never heard of such a practice. This human seemed even greedier than a goblin.

Before he could respond, Ambrose continued, "You hesitated. I suppose that means no. Since negotiations have broken down, then..."

The chief looked bewildered. Broken down? What?

Ambrose had already raised his hand, intending to unleash a triple fireball volley, before he remembered that he wasn't Megaman Tiga right now. He was the ranger Hawkeye Barton.

The gathered magic at his fingertips dissipated. Instead, Ambrose withdrew a magitech rifle from his extradimensional space.

While modifying weapons for Husky, he had crafted several rifles for himself as well. They were coming in handy now.

He raised the rifle and aimed at the goblin chief.

He realized that his senses had expanded. He was faster, sharper. He could even read the wind that flowed through his surroundings in the form of precise data inscribed upon his soul.

Wind direction, angle of light, humidity—instinctively taking these factors into account, he pulled the trigger.

A burst of compressed magical wind propelled the bullet down the barrel, leaving a visible streak through the air.

The goblin chief reacted instantly, yanking the scout goblin in front of him as a shield.

The bullet grazed the goblin shield's ear and struck the chief squarely in the eye.

The impact blew out the back of his skull. Brain matter splattered across the ground.

"Woah, this feels great!"

It was Ambrose's first time fighting with his ranger abilities. The exhilaration was novel. Perhaps he had thrown too many fireballs over the years. This clean headshot was refreshingly satisfying in contrast.

Though the chief had fallen in one shot, the other goblins weren't cowed. They shrieked and swarmed toward him. Even the goblin who had been used as a shield rushed forward to avenge his boss.

When they held numerical superiority, goblins could be quite brave.

Ambrose patted Naomi's head lightly. She understood at once and bounded through the forest, weaving between the trees.

Riding the leaping black panther, Ambrose kept the rifle steady. The muzzle flared rhythmically.

It made no difference to him whether the goblins rolled, ducked, or hid behind cover. Bullets found skulls from impossible angles.

This was true hunting. The power of a legendary ranger was exhilarating.

These goblins didn't know any magic. Against a legendary ranger, death was the only outcome.

Ambrose took down over half of them within just thirty seconds. The survivors' courage shattered. They wailed and fled.

Any seasoned adventurer knew better than to extend chivalry toward goblins. The only good goblin was a dead one.

He finished them methodically, then rode into the camp.

Shrill screams erupted. Goblins of all sizes swarmed with crude weapons.

"Kill them freely," Ambrose told Naomi.

She grew rapidly in size and plunged into their ranks.

This was her first battle empowered by legendary strength. At first she struggled. Her power far exceeded what she was used to, but she adapted quickly. Her claws tore through goblin flesh with ease. A sweep of her tail sent bodies flying, coughing blood as they died.

Gradually her eyes reddened and her attacks grew fiercer.

Ambrose did not restrain her. Instead, he layered enhancement spells upon her, letting her revel in the frenzy.

His voice echoed in her mind: "Let it out, Naomi. Release your hatred, anger, and sorrow. Pour it all out, then forget the past and live your own life anew."

She answered with a piercing roar, becoming a streak of black across the camp. Goblins were shredded before they even glimpsed her form.

The slaughter lasted under two minutes. Of the hundred-strong tribe, most lay dead.

The remainder fled or cowered, trembling in corners.

If they held the advantage, the goblins would have been savage. But when faced with overwhelming strength, they revealed their cowardice. Cruel and timid—that was their nature.

Naomi finally stopped. Her forepaws dripped blood, leaving sticky crimson prints on the earth. Yet she appeared calm, like a docile cat, as she walked back to Ambrose. She lowered her head so he would not see the watery mist in her eyes.

He stroked her head gently. "It's fine to cry. But once you do so, don't cling to that sorrow. I won't spout clichés about hardship building character. Think of the past like a failed investment. We'll earn it back in the future."

Naomi confirmed once more that Ambrose truly cared about her. Only he knew she needed to vent her rage and grief. Even if he was a lich, he was the one who cared most for her in this world.

A ranger and beast companion shared a spiritual bond. Ambrose felt her lingering resentment clearly. Even dying once had not granted her instant enlightenment.

She felt better now, but fully processing her trauma would take time.

Fortunately, they had plenty of time.

Ambrose casually grabbed a trembling goblin. "Do you have a map of the Emerald Dreamwood?"

The goblin stammered, "I-If I answer... will you spare me?"

Ambrose chuckled. "Of course. I'm not a devil."

The goblin blurted, "No! I've never even seen a map before!"

Ambrose: "..."

His human disguise vanished in an instant, revealing his lich form.

Flames flickered in his eye sockets as he said, "Apologies. I misspoke earlier. I really am a devil."

With a skeletal claw, he seized the goblin's soul.

No map? No matter. He would simply read its memories.