Low-Fantasy Occultist Isekai-Chapter 92 - 90

Nick tightened the straps of his pack, rolling his shoulders as he took in the people who would brave the dungeon with him.

Thirty people. The other groups had about twenty each, so Floria gathered roughly seventy people for the expedition. More might have participated if Dad had eased the requirements, but that would have been counterproductive. It would have left the town defenseless and complicated the logistics of the march.

His father’s strike group consisted of a mix of experienced soldiers, hardened adventurers, and two priests. Among them were three other scouts—two were seasoned Rangers, wearing leather armor worn from years of travel through the forest, and the last was a younger Rogue, barely a couple years older than Devon.

Together, they would form the main prong of the attack.

Their job was simple—at least in theory. They would penetrate deep into the dungeon’s territory, causing enough chaos to keep its defenders focused on them, while the other two groups—led by Arthur and Marthas—took advantage of the distraction to reach the core.

That was, of course, assuming everything went according to plan.

Nick wasn’t counting on that. We have no idea what lies ahead beyond Arthur’s findings. And with how quickly the fae are moving, I’d be surprised if they haven’t made preparations to slow us down.

No one had properly mapped out the depths of the dungeon since its sudden expansion. The monsters had already grown stronger and more numerous, and now, with the presence of the Summer Court, they had to assume even the dungeon itself was adapting.

There were contingencies, of course.

If their advance stalled or they found themselves overwhelmed, the three groups would retreat to the fallback point—the scorched clearing where his father had slain the dryad. From there, they could regroup and re-evaluate before pushing forward again.

That, at least, was the idea.

Nick would have preferred to be in one of the groups aiming for the dungeon core.

After reading Roberta’s diary, he was convinced that the core was something far more significant than just a spawning mechanism for monsters. It allowed the dungeon’s territory to expand, which implied it had a way to safely interface with the leyline.

That was something Nick desired for himself. He wasn’t so arrogant as to believe he could control the world’s veins, but he could imagine countless possible rituals to empower himself using such a remarkable object as fuel.

But this wasn’t just a single battle; it was a war. It would take them hours to enter the dungeon’s true territory, and he suspected it would take days to reach the place where the core was kept—and where the fae had established their Court.

Arthur and Marthas’ forces broke off, moving alongside them but steadily vanishing as the forest grew denser. Soon enough, Nick couldn’t sense them at all.

The trees grew taller and thicker, their gnarled roots twisting through the earth like veins. The further they traveled, the less familiar everything became.

Nick knew the outer forest well enough—he had gathered ingredients here, explored its clearings, and even fought in its shadows, but they had long since left those safer areas behind.

They had long since passed the area where Nick had found the mushrooms—the place that once marked the furthest he had dared to go alone.

Now, even with [Wind God’s Third Eye] activated, he was keenly aware that he was relying on an imperfect sense. Even worse, the battle with the dryad had shown he wasn’t infallible.

How many things could be lurking just beneath the surface?

Nick shook his head, annoyed with himself for getting distracted by his spiraling thoughts. This wasn’t useful, especially with how much more oppressive the forest was becoming. I might be immune to mental spells, but that doesn’t mean I can’t get creeped out by what I know is a haunted forest.

Nick’s air sense picked up subtle shifts, distant movements, the occasional rustle of unseen animals, but nothing that seemed immediately dangerous. He didn’t trust it at all, and soon enough, his paranoia was rewarded.

A ripple shuddered through the air. Something was coming.

Not just one thing—many. Nick felt a group coming their way. It was moving quickly, too. They weren’t stalking, weren’t waiting in ambush. They were charging—a full rush straight toward them.

"Incoming." He shouted, making sure to bring the sound to everyone’s ears. His father’s head snapped toward him, and Nick didn’t wait for further prompting.

"There are a lot of them. Bipedal. About half a mile out and closing fast."

Eugene didn’t hesitate to issue orders. "Form ranks around the priests! Shields forward! Scouts fall back and prepare to harass!"

The call to action was met with immediate response, as swords were drawn, bows strung, and spells readied.

The older scouts jumped into action, and as soon as they took position, they turned to Nick.

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"Height?"

"Weight?"

"Are they hunched or upright?" Explore stories on novelbuddy

"Do they carry weapons? What kind?"

Nick closed his eyes for a second, refining the sensory input from [Wind God’s Third Eye] before answering.

"Just under five feet for most, but one’s bigger—closer to six. The smaller ones are carrying clubs, spears, and rusted swords. The big one… it’s armored. Leather, maybe reinforced, but definitely more intact than the rest. And its sword—"

Nick hesitated, trying to understand what he was feeling. The blade wasn’t ordinary. The air around it felt unsettled. It wasn’t easy to articulate, but he could sense that the ambient wind mana in the air was being actively repelled.

"It’s enchanted," he finished.

A brief silence followed his assessment. Then, one of the adventurers sighed. "Great. Just great. A damned hobgoblin."

Muttered curses followed from the more seasoned fighters. Nick raised an eyebrow. "That bad?"

One of the scouts, a grizzled man with a scar running across his cheek, answered grimly. "Goblins alone are pests. Annoying but manageable. But when they have a hobgoblin leading them?" He spat to the side. "That’s when they become a bitch to kill. Especially if they are advanced enough to have gotten their hands on good weapons."

The rogue nodded in agreement. "They become smarter, more coordinated, and harder to put down. Hobgoblins are stronger than most humans of equal level, and they compel their kin to fight much harder."

Nick glanced at Eugene, who stood with arms crossed, listening silently. His father didn’t look worried, merely thoughtful. "Regardless, we were always going to eliminate them." He finally said. "Even if we weren’t on an extermination mission, we can’t let goblins settle in these woods." His gaze swept across the gathered fighters. "A single tribe can multiply rapidly, and with a hobgoblin leading them, they’ll breed faster, raid more, and eventually become a regional disaster. If they integrate into the dungeon’s ecosystem, they’ll evolve alongside it. And that—" His expression hardened. "Is unacceptable."

Apparently, the goblins weren’t just monsters. They were a plague waiting to happen.

Nick’s head snapped up. "They’re almost here."

The group fell silent. Soon after, the first distant hollers rang through the trees. It was an ugly sound—high-pitched cackles and guttural shrieks, growing louder with each second.

Weapons were drawn, and skills were prepared. The air thickened with anticipation. Nick took a breath to steady himself. His mana pulsed as he began weaving his spell.

"[Wind Blast]."

Then another.

And another.

Five, seven, ten, twelve spheres of condensed air spun around him, coiled and waiting to strike.

"I’m going to take the first shot," he murmured.

Eugene nodded. "We’ll move the moment you do. Make it count."

Nick narrowed his eyes. He waited.

The goblins rushed closer, their mismatched armor clattering, their beady red eyes shining with malice.

Then, the last goblin stepped into sight. Nick unleashed hell.

The air howled as the spheres of wind shot forward. Each one curved around the trees with unerring precision, guided by the [Wind God’s Third Eye], slipping past branches and dodging obstacles as if they were alive.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

Explosions of compressed air tore through the goblin ranks.

Some were sent flying, their bodies shattered against trees. Others crumpled instantly, their chests caved in by the sheer force.

Twelve fell in the blink of an eye. At least twice as many remained, but it was a substantial portion of the enemy force he had just eliminated.

The System chimed.

<table border="1" class="chapter-table" style="border-collapse: collapse; width: 23.3069%">

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<td style="width: 100%">

<p style="margin-bottom: 0">You have defeated 12 Goblins!</p>

<p style="margin-bottom: 0">12,000 EXP gained!</p>

</td>

</tr>

</tbody>

</table>

But before he could celebrate, a furious roar cut through the air. Nick’s eyes snapped to the source, and he was unsurprised to find it was the hobgoblin.

The creature lumbered forward, tensing its powerful muscles under weathered leather armor. Unlike its kin, it had withstood the attack with minimal damage to show for it.

And the reason was clear. In its grimy hands, it held a glowing sword.

The blade had carved straight through one of Nick’s Wind Blasts, scattering the spell before it could reach him.

Nick cursed under his breath. That’s not good.

The hobgoblin lifted the sword high. The remaining goblins began to glow.

Nick groaned. That’s worse.

The goblins’ eyes turned bloodshot, their veins bulged, and a horrifying snarl escaped their lips as their already wiry bodies swelled with unnatural strength.

Then they charged.

Nick had little time to react before the monsters descended upon the strike group like rabid animals, no longer worried about self-preservation.

Eugene met the charge head-on. "The sword!" he roared as he cut the first goblin in two. "It’s the source of their strength! Get to the damn sword!"

But no one could make a move toward it. The goblins were everywhere.

Soldiers and adventurers clashed with the maddened creatures, steel meeting flesh, skills flaring through the battlefield. Even the experienced rangers, who should have had the upper hand in an ambush, were forced into retreat as the goblins simply ignored any damage they caused, no matter how many arrows littered their bodies.

Nick barely had time to prepare before two goblins lunged at him from the side.

They were fast—much faster than before. Instinct took over.

Whipping his wand forward, Nick unleashed two more [Wind Blasts] at point-blank range.

Boom. Boom.

The impact hurled the goblins backward, sending them tumbling like ragdolls. Their weapons clattered to the ground, and Nick exhaled. Then, they got up.

"Are you kidding me?" Nick hissed, snarling.

The goblins barely looked fazed.

Their bodies were battered, bones twisted at unnatural angles, but instead of collapsing, they charged again, shrieking in unholy fury.

Nick gritted his teeth, feeling a cold wave of realization.

The sword must be inflicting a powerful Berserker status on them. They won’t stop until they are literally torn limb from limb, and they physically cannot move anymore.

Nick thrust out a hand, casting [Force Shield] just in time.

A translucent barrier flared to life between him and the incoming goblins.

The frenzied creatures crashed into it, clawing and snapping their teeth at the empty air. Nick watched in disgust as they mindlessly threw themselves at the shield, smashing against it without hesitation.

If I let the shield down, they’ll rip me apart. Nick clenched his jaw. With his wand free, he began preparing a more definitive solution.

As he worked, he focused on his father, sensing that Eugene had reached the hobgoblin.

Their blades clashed in a blinding display of power. Steel met fire, and Eugene’s sword blazed, leaving embers in the air. The hobgoblin snarled, meeting his blows with shocking precision. Its enchanted weapon cut through the flames as if they were mere illusions.

Despite the creature’s newfound power, however, it was clear who the superior fighter was.

Eugene was faster. Eugene was stronger. Eugene was merciless.

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He deftly maneuvered around the hobgoblin’s clumsy strikes, carving burning rends across the creature’s leather armor.

The hobgoblin howled as Eugene’s sword cut through its side, leaving a deep, sizzling wound.

But it didn’t falter. It didn’t even slow.

Nick’s stomach twisted. It’s ignoring pain. Of course, it’s also under the status effect.

That sword was more than an amplifier. It allowed its wielder beyond natural limits. From a purely theoretical perspective, Nick really wanted to get his hands on it.

Unfortunately, he had no time to dwell on it.

The goblins at his barrier shrieked louder, hammering recklessly against the shield. The men around him held their ground, demonstrating their experience, but it was only a matter of time before someone fell and was swarmed.

Nick gritted his teeth, finishing the last preparations. We’re supposed to make a big splash and give the other teams a chance at the core. This should do it.

The sky roared.