He lay in the fissure, his new [E-Rank Chitin-Shiv] feeling like a natural extension of his hand. His 20 Perception drank in the scene below, no longer as a terrified rat, but as an exterminator surveying a new job.
His 25 Intelligence analyzed the [Appraisal] data from Gruk.
STR 14. AGI 5. INT 3.
"A glass cannon," he whispered, his reedy voice cold. "A big, stupid, slow-moving hammer. All brawn, no brain, and slower than a sick snail."
This wasn't a boss fight. This was a culling.
But his 25 INT wouldn't allow him to be reckless. A [Nail-Studded Club] swung by a 14-Strength brute would still turn him into goblin-paste, 15 Agility or no, if he got hit. The goal was, as always, not to get hit.
He uncorked his [Concentrated Acid-Vial]. The smell of catalyzed roach-pus—sharp, toxic, and lemony—filled his small crawlspace.
He held the vial, feeling its weight.
"Opener," he decided.
He activated [Junk Tossing (Lvl 2)]. The vial, being light, was enveloped in a tight shimmer of mana.
He flung it.
It didn't arc. It flew. A green, liquid bullet.
SPLAT!
The vial shattered perfectly on the center of Gruk's [Crude Bone-Plate].
Gruk, who had been lazily gnawing a bone, didn't even have time to look up.
TSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!
A sound like a blacksmith's quench, a violent, high-pitched sizzle, erupted from his chest.
The E-Rank acid was not a "minor" debuff.
It dissolved the [Crude Bone-Plate (Poor)] in seconds. The bone, leather, and nails turned to a bubbling, smoking sludge. And the acid underneath... it found flesh.
"GGGRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!"
It was a sound of pure, uncomprehending agony. Gruk leapt to his feet, his club clattering to the ground. He clawed at his own chest, his thick, dirty claws raking through the bubbling, green acid, succeeding only in spreading it.
His 3 Intelligence couldn't process this. It wasn't a bite. It wasn't a club. It was... fire-water. He spun in a circle, roaring, his 6 Perception useless at finding the source.
"Follow-up," the Lvl 11 goblin whispered, his 25 INT cold and detached.
He drew on his 12 Mana. The [Acid Gland] in his throat clenched.
He leaned out of the fissure, took aim...
P-HTOO!
A second glob of glowing-green acid shot out and struck Gruk square in the face.
"SKREEEEEEEEE-GAAAAAH!"
The new sound was worse. It was a shriek of primal terror. Gruk stumbled back, dropping his bone, his hands flying to his eyes, which were now melting.
The [Tribe Bully] was now blind, disarmed of his armor, and in the worst pain of his short, brutish life.
He spotted him. Or rather, his 6 Perception, now dialed to 100 by pure agony, sensed the direction of the second attack.
He roared.
"GRUUUUK!"
He activated his skill. [Bully's Roar]!
A wave of primal, sonic force blasted from his mouth. It was a wave of pure F-Rank [Fear] and [Intimidation].
The 30-odd skeletal goblins in the cavern instantly cowered, shrieking, covering their heads, some fainting from sheer terror.
The Lvl 11 goblin in the fissure felt it wash over him. It was... loud.
And that was it.
His [Colony-Killer] title, combined with his 25 INT, nullified it. It was like being yelled at by a very large, very stupid, and now very melty toddler.
He simply blinked, unimpressed.
Gruk, half-blind and mad with pain, realized the roar hadn't worked. He snatched his [Nail-Studded Club] from the floor. He charged the wall beneath the fissure, his 5 Agility making the "charge" a clumsy, stumbling, pain-fueled lumber.
WHAM! WHAM! WHAM!
He began to beat his club against the stone wall, trying to smash the "bug" that was hurting him.
The LPl 11 goblin watched. This was the moment.
Gruk was disoriented. He was wounded. He was distracted.
He sheathed his [E-Rank Chitin-Shiv] in his loincloth-belt. He didn't drop.
He climbed.
His 13 Strength and 15 Agility, augmented by his natural claws, found purchase on the rough-hewn stone wall. He moved down, as silent and as fast as a green-skinned spider, while Gruk was busy smashing the wall ten feet to his left.
The other goblins, their terror of Gruk now replaced by a paralyzing awe, just... stared. They saw this small, green, new thing descend from the shadows like a spirit.
He touched the cavern floor.
Crunch. He stepped on a dry bone.
Gruk heard it.
The 6 Perception, though blinded, was still functional. Gruk stopped smashing. He sniffed the air, which was now thick with the smell of his own burning flesh and catalyzed-acid.
He turned.
It was a slow, agonizingly clumsy pivot, his 5 Agility betraying him.
He "saw" the Lvl 11 goblin—a small, green blur in his ruined vision.
He raised his [Nail-Studded Club] high, a last, desperate, 14-Strength swing.
"RAAAGH!"
The club arced down.
But the Lvl 11 goblin was already gone.
His 15 Agility was so much faster. He didn't dodge back. He dodged in. He flowed past the clumsy swing, inside the brute's reach, his small frame a perfect advantage.
He was now at Gruk's side, pressing against the brute's leg. Gruk was still in his follow-through swing, his 3 INT not even registering.
The Lvl 11 goblin drew his [E-Rank Chitin-Shiv].
He looked up at the brute's exposed back. He saw the spot his 25 INT had calculated.
He drove the shiv, with all of his 13 Strength, up and in, right under the ribcage, aiming for the heart-analogue.
SHLICK.
There was no resistance. The [Minor Armor Penetration] on the E-Rank blade bypassed the tough goblin-hide as if it were paper. The shiv sank to its 4-inch hilt.
Gruk froze.
His swing stopped. The [Nail-Studded Club] thudded to the floor.
He stood there, motionless, for one long, silent second.
He tried to turn. He tried to speak.
A wet, acidic gurgle was all that came out.
And then, the Lvl 7 [Tribe Bully], the F-Rank (Peak) glass cannon, the king of this miserable den, toppled.
He fell, face-first, onto his own throne of garbage, dead.
[You have slain a [Goblin (Brute-Type) (Lvl 7)]!]
[Experience Gained: 28 EXP.]
[Your level is too high for a significant reward.]
The cavern was silent.
The Lvl 11 goblin stood, breathing calmly, his hand still on the hilt of his shiv, embedded in the brute's back.
He pulled his blade free with a wet squelch.
He turned.
Thirty skeletal, starving, F-Rank Lvl 1 and Lvl 2 goblins were staring at him. Their [Cowardice] passive was so strong, it was a palpable wave of terror.
He had just, in the span of about thirty seconds, melted and gutted their god-king.
He was small. He was green. He was covered in acid-burns (from his own splashback) and chitin-buds.
He was the most terrifying thing they had ever seen.
One of them, a Lvl 2, bowed, his forehead hitting the filthy stone floor.
Then another.
And another.
Within five seconds, the entire tribe was prostrate before him.
He looked at the sea of bowing, green-skinned wretches.
He looked at Gruk's corpse, and the massive, hoarded pile of food behind the throne.
He looked at his [Scavenge (Lvl 3)] skill.
His 25 Intelligence processed the new reality.
He wasn't a rat in the walls anymore.
He was the King.