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Chapter 63 - Chapter 63: POP

My thoughts flickered back to Marco's group. I still didn't trust the way they'd gone in, charging ahead without any real intel. They hadn't even taken the time to scout.

I hope they had drawn the goblins' attention, given me the breathing room to move through the first floor without being swarmed. Or, at the very least, created a diversion.

With everything in place, I turned and made my way toward the stairwell, my steps quiet but heavy with purpose.

It is time to go to the first floor.

The escalator groaned beneath my boots as I stepped down to the first floor. The metal teeth were slick with dried blood and grime, and the silence stretched heavy around me.

Ahead, the shattered glass entrance of the mall loomed—massive, fractured, and still humming faintly with dungeon energy. I paused at the bottom, staring at the sealed doors.

This was where it started.

I remembered people slamming against the barrier, screaming for help, clawing at the invisible wall that refused to let them escape. The system had locked us all in. No way out. No warning. Just chaos.

I shoved the memory aside.

Focus.

All around me were the signs of battle. Goblin bodies littered the floor, twisted and broken, most already looted, stripped of gear, teeth cracked, and pouches emptied. Judging by the fresh bodies and stripped corpses, Marco's team had already come through here.

I crouched and inspected one of the corpses. Clean cuts. Human weapons. Efficient. He'd taken his whole team towards the food court, which is to the left.

I headed down the middle path since I've been to the right side already. There was no sense doubling back on already-dead ground. I needed intel, supplies, and a trail, anything that might lead to the missing women or the goblin camp.

I moved carefully, avoiding fights whenever possible. There were more goblins down here than I'd expected. Packs of them trashing the place, roughhousing, defecating everywhere, and sleeping. I kept to the shadows, watching their patterns, noting their sleeping spots and gathering areas.

When I could, I struck. Lone goblins who were exploring or playing with headless mannequins. Pairs near the edge of the main corridors smear feces on the walls, as if it were an art show. Silent, fast kills. I drew a rough map on a folded piece of paper, marking supplies, paths, goblin beds, and likely patrol routes.

Then I heard it.

Screaming, ragged, desperate cries tearing through the air, followed by shrill goblin squeals.

I slammed my dagger through the neck of the goblin I was already fighting, then froze.

The echoes came again.

Laughter. Shouts. Pleas for help.

My heart clenched.

Could be Marco's team or maybe the missing women?

I moved quickly, activating my stealth skill and blending back into the shadows.

Whatever waited at the end of that hall, I'd see it with my own eyes.

I stuck to the shadows as I moved toward the screams. My breathing was steady. My steps are light. Every sound had vanished now. No more cries, just laughter.

I stopped near a broken planter and peered around the edge.

I feel myself waver from the scene in front of me. It was a slaughter.

Bodies were everywhere. Human and goblin, tangled in blood-soaked chaos. Marco's team, at least what was left of it, lay in pieces. Arms torn from sockets. Guts ripped out. One man's body was pinned to the wall by a jagged piece of pipe, his face frozen in a scream.

The goblins were celebrating.

Three of them crouched over a man's corpse, tearing at his flesh like it was a festival feast. One waved an arm around like a trophy while the others squealed in delight.

But they weren't alone.

A massive figure stood in the center of the carnage. It was six feet tall, maybe taller. Muscles like boulders. Skin is a sickly green-gray. The battle-ax dripped red, and in its other hand, it held a man off the ground by the head.

Marco.

His legs were gone from the knees down, and a deep gash split across his torso. He should've been dead.

But he wasn't.

His fists slammed weakly against the hobgoblin's wrist. His knuckles were bloody, and he was desperately trying to get out of the beast's grasp.

I narrowed my eyes and activated Appraisal, heart pounding.

Appraisal: Hobgoblin Warlord (Elite)

 Level 10

 HP: 10000

 Threat: High

 Skill Detected: War Cry| Cleave | Battle Frenzy

 Equipment: Iron Battle-Ax (Uncommon)

Shit.

The bastard was in a whole other weight class, and Marco didn't stand a chance.

The hobogolin laughed.

It gave him a sickening grin, then crushed his skull like a melon.

POP!

My mind replays the moment. I see Marco's face grimace in pain, I hear his screams, then his eyeballs bulge out. I hear the bones in his face rearrange, and soon after, he was crushed in the hands of the hobgoblin.

The triumphant screams of the goblins, along with their clapping and bouncing, brought me back to the present.

I didn't move. Didn't blink. Just watched.

The hobgoblin barked something guttural. The language meant nothing to me, but the intent was clear. Orders.

The others obeyed. They dragged the bodies away, Marco's corpse included, leaving long bloody streaks across the tile as they marched west.

I gave it another minute. Then another.

Silence.

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