The Goblins were at their best during an ambush, so it came as a relief to find they weren't as menacing without—at least the regular ones. Their reach was lacking, weapons ineffectual, and untrained. Holding themselves upright with a bow-legged stance that hindered every action they took. But they usually had numbers, sometimes that's all it took to bring down a well-trained soldier.

Sloppy, uncaring opponents, he thought.

Four of them flopped about on the ground in varying degrees of ember-pain. One of which, rolled to a stop at Quintin's weighty foot, where it ended. Quintin ducked back to evade two of their rusty blades, then reached out towards a third weapon and gripped it. He pulled forward using it and punched a hole through the [Goblin's] chest. His hand came back out covered in bone fragments and pieces of lung.

Three more trickled into the area from the least populated bonfire. Quintin mused that the raid-party must've been primarily put together from there—so few [Goblins] wouldn't deserve their own place.

That thought went by as he activated his [Movement Skill]: [Seven-Steps across the Lotus Path] or [Seven-Steps]. A moment later, a thrown dagger drew a thin line on his cheek. He got away lightly on his feet and began to run towards the nearby stone house. The three reinforcements entered the picture and regrouped with the two healthy ones to chase after him. The few on the ground were still squirming around, one even managed to roll itself onto the remains of the firepit, burnt to a crisp.

The five Goblins sneered at Quintin when they saw him enter through the doorway. Quintin stopped and turned after entering, watching as they ran in, tripped, and fell all over each other in a comical pile. Their careless feet had been snagged up on a simple trip-rope trap he had set up earlier.

"Heads up!"

Quintin pulled back and up on his leg, using [PP] in both, and snapped his leg out at superhuman speeds. Heads, limbs, and whole chunks of meat went splattering to the side and against the further wall, not unlike the aftermath of a bad day controlling the wrecking ball.

HP: 372/417

PP: 175/250

Thanks to his work clearing out the houses earlier, he now knew there were only six targets left—eight if the ones terribly burnt by the embers counted. He saddled the back window once again and came to a rest at the corner of the house. He observed as the last [Hob] and four Goblins came out from behind a large pile of bones and other refuse. They followed tightly behind like a cloak of daggers, the Headbearer was still absent, which made his skin crawl.

Quintin took advantage of the fact they didn't seem to know where he was and shot off three projectiles from the safety of that sturdy stone corner.

[Breath of Sudden Calamity: 3x]

-30[PP]

[PP]: 145/250

...

1. {Grazing}, {Piercing}

2. {Critical}{Piercing}

3. {Deflection}

...

*300 total [HP] damage generated between three targets.

...

*{Bleeding: Slight}{Bleeding: Moderate}

...]

One of the Goblins went down, hard. The [Hob] took the brunt of the damage and even managed to deflect one of the projectiles at the last moment. Its eyes widened with the same intensity as the [Shout] that came next and charged like a bullet-train. Quintin left his temporary hiding spot in a duck and roll maneuver. A moment later, the greataxe-wielding blur came crashing into the corner of the house. Sending stone buckshot everywhere.

The [Hob] shook himself loose from the fallen rubble in a groggy manner. Its three subordinates came along just in time to prevent Quintin from taking advantage of its dazed condition. These three really are the daggers of this [Hob's] cloak, he internalized. Together, the [Goblins] warded him off with defensive swipes and slashes. He was content to wait for the Iron-Beak, having missed his opportunity to strike.

In these moments, the boss monster finally appeared. One of the heads shimmered out in the near distance. Soon after, the Headbearer materialized in its place. Perhaps it had always been watching, waiting for an opportunity. Or trying and failing to gather its peacefully sleeping soldiers. Regardless, this was still better than concerted leadership.

The heads on pikes unearthed themselves from the ground, gathering to float freely in the air around the magical Goblin. Dark magic swirled within their lifeless eyes as the mage sent them forward, with sharp pike-ends first against his incursion. Quintin activated [Seven-Steps] again, increasing his momentum, the pikes pierced the ground in a row that followed his trail. He continually moved back, back further towards the water's edge.

One of the few Goblins left now had an extra head on its chest, it had gotten in the way and was summarily pierced clean through. The pressure on Quintin was taking its toll. An enraged [Hob] came to add onto his constant backpedaling, he rolled back just in time to avoid its greataxe as it swept overhead. A pike landed into the ground right at the end of his roll and locked eyes with him. A ruby-red light flared out.

[Fear attempt failed]

I've seen much more frightening visions than that, Headbearer, he retorted internally.

Unperturbed by strange sights, he plucked the pike out of the ground and thrust it forward into the oncoming [Hob]. The high-hanging axe above its head unmoving as it stalled, the brute looked down at its gut-pierced self. Quintin opened the wound wider and intestines came rippling out like a pulled parachute.

[Pike-thrust]

1. {Severe} {Critical} {Piercing}

-250HP damage!

...

{Organ Rupture} {Paralyzed} {Bleeding: Severe}

...]

Quintin dropped it and let the pike wedge itself onto the ground, headfirst. The [Hob] staggered forward, slanted upright in death.

The combat thus far led all the way to the sunken portion of these ruins. He zig-zagged and fired off projectiles every now and again, but the mage would simply swap positions with the pike-heads. He simply couldn't get close enough. That all changed when the Headbearer stopped controlling the pike-heads to fight.

They began to gather together like a bundle of cigarettes in the air. The heads came from all over, even ones previously unused and undetected. Quintin stood stock-still, the amount that gathered sent warning waves through his mind. The only bright side was that the [Mage] seemed spent from the effort. It took one last look, and brought its hand down, sending the bundle rocketing in his direction.

The realization made him go wide-eyed. He activated [Seven-Steps] and dove into the water. Pike-heads flew in scattershot all around him in random trajectories. Many banged off his arms and legs, still, one lacerated his shoulder, and another clipped his upper leg. He swam deeper underwater in a panic as the pikes fished for his shape.

One last pike pierced through his shoulder blade before he saw the soft glow of [Starmoss] further down. Quintin gritted his teeth and swam even further down to a glowing tunnel below and went inside.