They had been shadowing the hobgoblin chieftain for over an hour.
Beatriz adjusted her pace with uncanny precision—fast enough to keep the gap closed, but slow enough that Elrick's lungs wouldn't burst from the strain. Her focus never wavered, every muscle tuned to the rhythm of the hunt.
The chieftain had no idea death was stalking him. He kept glancing over his shoulder, ears twitching at phantom sounds, yet finding nothing but trees and shadows.
Then Beatriz saw it—faint shapes through the treeline, crooked silhouettes of watchtowers, and the first few goblins drifting along the perimeter like carrion flies. A larger camp.
The moment she confirmed it, she moved.
One heartbeat the chieftain was sprinting—
The next, he was face-first in the dirt, the breath knocked clean from his lungs.
He flailed, scrambling to rise, but Beatriz was already standing over him. Her armored boot pressed between his shoulders, then shifted, planting on the back of his skull. She pressed down—not fast, but with the deliberate weight of inevitability. The dirt swallowed his muffled scream.
Elrick stared, his voice dry.
"I'm starting to think this is less about saving the captives… and more about your hatred for goblins."
Beatriz didn't answer. She met his gaze briefly, then turned her eyes toward the camp ahead.
Elrick sighed. "Go."
She vanished again, swallowed by the trees.
He exhaled through his teeth. The gaming community had always joked about her, calling her "Goblin Slayer 2.0" or "Divine Exterminator." He should have read the lore.
His attention drifted to the chieftain's satchel. The weight alone told him it was valuable—but when he loosened the straps and peered inside, he felt a giddy rush. Gold. Silver. Trinkets inlaid with gemstones. And at the very bottom—a map. His grin widened.
"Finall—" he began, only to be cut short by a sound.
A deep, resonant boom tore through the forest, echoing like thunder.
Elrick's eyes darted toward the camp.
If this keeps up, he thought grimly, she's going to wipe every goblin off the face of this planet.
Elrick let the map roll back into the satchel and muttered under his breath,
"I've been on this planet for less than a day… and I'm already somewhat part of three massacres."
It wasn't pride speaking. Not guilt, either. It was the dawning realization that this was spiraling far faster than he could manage.
His fingers tightened around the strap of the bag.
What if we run into someone stronger than her?
The thought gnawed at him. The more he tried to push it away, the louder it echoed in his head.
We know nothing about this world. Nothing about its limits. And she's already slaughtered… hell, I lost count.
The problem wasn't her skill—it was her absolute lack of hesitation. The woman didn't stop. Didn't tire. Didn't seem to even consider the idea of pulling back. That kind of momentum felt unstoppable… until it met something even more immovable.
Elrick exhaled, forcing his thoughts into order.
"I need to talk to her," he murmured. "Slow her down. At least until we know if the captives are even in there. If they are, maybe I can convin—"
A second blast ripped through the forest.
This one wasn't just noise—it hit. The ground quivered under his boots, dirt trickling from nearby roots as if the forest itself had flinched. Distant screams rose, cut short by a wet, echoing silence.
Elrick froze, eyes locked on the camp's direction.
A long breath slipped past his teeth.
"…Hopefully she's okay."
Then a familiar sound echoed through his mind.
Ding!