It didn't take long before Adam finished the remaining eight goblins.
Poison turned every single death into a writhing, agonizing end, and he revelled in it.
The corpses twitched, then stilled and for a moment, silence blanketed the battlefield.
The martial artists stood frozen, staring at the fifteen dead goblins they had been struggling against moments ago.
Some had bruises, some bled through torn clothes, but all shared the same expression: disbelief.
Adam ignored their looks.
He crouched beside a corpse, hands moving quickly as he harvested granulites and whatever parts hadn't been corroded by poison F.
The stench didn't bother him.
A shaky voice finally tore through the stunned silence.
"We're… alive."
Emotion trembled in the man's words, raw relief, shock and disbelief.
And his realization spread like wildfire.
They were alive.
And they all knew: they shouldn't have been.
Even the most optimistic fool couldn't deny what had been obvious minutes earlier.
