"You have entered the Level 30 dungeon 'Goblin Tribe'. The difficulty is Nightmare. You can pass this level after defeating the BOSS. Please be careful!"
The notification echoed in Lucas's ears as the world around him shifted. When his vision cleared, he found himself standing in the middle of a dense forest. The trees here were tall, their branches stretching high above to block much of the sunlight. Shafts of light leaked through the gaps, painting the forest floor in flickering gold. The air was filled with the chirping of insects, the distant calls of unseen birds, and the rustling of leaves swaying in the wind.
For a moment, Lucas stood still, listening carefully. The dungeon had perfectly simulated an outdoor environment, but the glowing system prompt confirmed that this was no longer the real world—he was now deep inside the Nightmare-level dungeon.
"Goblin Tribe, huh?" he muttered, drawing his dagger and spinning it lightly between his fingers. The sharp metal gleamed faintly.
From prior intelligence, Lucas knew what he was dealing with. The dungeon was populated by a large tribe of goblins, numbering well over a hundred. Their leader, the dungeon's BOSS, was infamous among adventurers—a giant goblin warlord, standing more than two meters tall, blind in one eye but extremely dangerous. Armed with a massive long blade, the BOSS could also switch to bows, short knives, or even crude spears. What made it especially feared was its trademark technique—rolling with its weapon to quickly close distance or evade attacks, a move adventurers had nicknamed "Hob Goblin Spin."
Despite its size, the BOSS was unnervingly agile, never standing still long enough to be easily struck. That was why this fight, though straightforward in design, had caused countless failed raids.
The regular goblins, meanwhile, were small, ugly creatures—shorter than humans, with greenish skin, twisted faces, and crude armor. They fought with clubs, daggers, or short bows. They lacked any real magical ability, but their cunning made them troublesome. Some would lay traps in the forest; others would hide in trees and drop onto unsuspecting adventurers in ambush.
Lucas crouched low, scanning the ground. He spotted footprints, broken branches, and claw marks on the bark—clear signs of goblin movement. Following the trail, he soon heard faint screeches and quarrels in the distance.
"Perfect," he said. Without hesitation, he strode forward.
He had no need for elaborate tactics. In a dungeon like this, survival depended on three rules:
Never aggro too many goblins at once.
Be wary of traps hidden around their camp.
Always watch the treetops for ambushes.
For ordinary adventurers, this would be a tense and grueling crawl. But for Lucas—who now wielded terrifying explosive strength and wore rare, purple-quality armor at level 30—it was going to be little more than a slaughter. His defenses were so high that even if he stood still, goblins could hack at him for ages without causing serious harm.
With that thought, Lucas pressed onward.
The Goblin Encounter
The noise grew louder until he reached a clearing. There, dozens of goblins were wrestling and fighting amongst themselves, screeching in their guttural tongue. When they noticed Lucas emerge from the treeline, silence fell for half a heartbeat—before they erupted in chaotic shrieks.
"Gu! Roar! Graaaah!"
The goblins leapt about wildly, their yellow eyes burning with excitement at the sight of an intruder. Unlike wild animals, they didn't cower. Instead, they grabbed whatever crude weapons they had—clubs, rusted swords, jagged spears—and rushed him in a disorganized swarm.
Lucas wrinkled his nose. "Ugly little green pests. Exactly like the stories say."
With a flick of his wrist, he activated a detection scroll. Glowing panels of information appeared before him:
Goblin Warrior – Level 30
Life: 9,780
Attack Power: 1,184
Physical Defense: 840
Magic Defense: 720
Goblin Archer – Level 30
Life: 6,842
Attack Power: 1,384
Physical Defense: 746
Magic Defense: 672
Their stats were respectable—deadly, even, for a normal adventurer team. But compared to Lucas, they were laughable. He had already slain monsters over Level 50 in one blow. Against his blade, these weaklings might as well have been children rushing into a meat grinder.
The first goblin lunged at him with a shriek. Lucas sidestepped and slashed. One cut, one kill. Another rushed, another fell. His dagger gleamed as he carved through the mob like a reaper harvesting wheat.
Within seconds, a dozen goblins lay in pools of blood. The survivors panicked. Some screeched and fled back toward their ramshackle camp, while others froze in fear. Lucas didn't bother chasing—he simply advanced at a steady pace, cutting down anything foolish enough to charge him.
By the time he reached the camp's outskirts, the ground was littered with corpses.
The Elite Appears
Then, the forest shook with a deeper, angrier roar.
From the center of the camp emerged a hulking goblin, towering over the rest. Its body was covered in scars, its muscles bulging beneath ragged armor. In its hands was a massive iron mace, pitted with rust but heavy enough to crush a man's skull in one blow. Its single eye glowed with bloodlust.
Without hesitation, it smashed a smaller goblin that scurried too close, killing it instantly. Then it raised its head, spotted Lucas, and let out another bestial roar.
Lucas raised an eyebrow. "An elite, huh?"
Another detection scroll flared to life:
Strong Goblin Warrior – Elite Monster
Level: 32
Life: 28,645
Attack Power: 1,936
Physical Defense: 1,214
Magic Defense: 996
This was no ordinary foe. For most teams attempting the dungeon, an elite like this spelled disaster. Unlike regular mobs, elites commanded the respect of the tribe. And sure enough—at its roar, the panicked goblins regained their courage, screaming in unison as they rallied behind their leader.
The warrior pointed its mace toward Lucas. Instantly, the goblins surged again in a coordinated frenzy.
Lucas smirked. "So that's the difference, huh? With a leader, even cowards become brave."
For a normal five-man team, this would be terrifying—a coordinated rush of dozens of goblins led by a brutal elite. One mistake could lead to total annihilation. But Lucas was no ordinary adventurer. He tightened his grip on his dagger, ready to cut down everything that came close.
The goblins swarmed, hacking and stabbing. Lucas moved like water, his blade flashing in arcs of silver. Every strike dropped another foe. He barely even slowed down, adjusting only to match the quicker pace of attacks.
Then the Elite Warrior charged.
With a thunderous leap, it swung its massive mace straight at Lucas's skull. The force of the swing split the air, deadly enough to pulverize a lesser adventurer.
Lucas's expression didn't change. At the last instant, he sidestepped, slipping past the mace's arc. In the same breath, he pivoted, his dagger plunging into the elite's exposed waist.
The blade pierced deep, empowered by his explosive strength. A red number floated in the air:
–74,298!
The goblin roared in agony, its mace falling from its grip as its body crumpled. In one strike, Lucas had completely erased its massive health bar.
The so-called Strong Goblin Warrior collapsed with a howl, twitching once before lying still. The other goblins froze in shock.
Aftermath
Lucas pulled his dagger free, flicking the blood aside before continuing forward without pause. The remaining goblins shrieked in fear again, but their renewed courage had already died with their leader. They scattered in all directions, fleeing into the forest.
"Pathetic," Lucas muttered.
He stepped deeper into the camp, eyes already scanning for the true BOSS—the Hob Goblin that ruled the tribe. Corpses littered his path, the stench of blood heavy in the air. For ordinary adventurers, this dungeon was a test of patience, coordination, and survival.
But for him, it was simply a warm-up.
One man against an entire tribe—and the tribe was losing.
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