Three fifth-tier units, thirteen fourth-tier, and one hundred third-tier.
This time, Hel didn't bring any of the second-tier mechanical sentinels.
She was going for an elite strike team—a force sharp enough to blitz through the defenses, seize the subway terminal before the enemy could respond, and hunt down that final fifth-tier opponent.
In short, a clean, decisive blitzkrieg.
Only… when Hel actually charged in, she immediately realized that plans never keep up with reality.
She had expected the enemy to still be assembling their forces—after all, according to the Snow Elf Queen, most of the combat units inside the ruins were in standby or hibernation.
But the moment she breached the inner passage, she found the other side fully mobilized and waiting.
And the greeting?
A barrage of missiles flying straight at her face.
Hel couldn't help but curse internally.
"Really? Missiles to the face? That's… enthusiastic."
Good thing she had been cautious—just cautious enough.
The shells detonated midair, blossoming into blazing fireballs. Shrapnel screamed downward like a storm of razors.
At the front of the group, the Flame Adjudicator raised both hands and summoned a shield, covering everyone behind.
The shield, forged entirely from Orichalcum, was one of Hel's own creations—meant exactly for situations like this, to guard against the unknown traps of the ruins.
Now, it finally earned its worth.
Unfortunately, that opening salvo was only the beginning.
After the initial bombardment came a second wave—a rain of fire, dense and unrelenting, like a meteor shower of artillery shells.
Seeing this, Hel immediately withdrew all her third-tier troops, leaving only her strongest elites on the field.
Then she ordered her ten Mechanical Centurions to raise their Orichalcum shields and form a protective barrier.
Under that steel canopy, the squad advanced steadily through the flaming storm—step by step, toward the wide plaza ahead.
And there… an entire army was already assembled.
The first row was made up of massive dinosaur-like beasts. The ten largest ones, crouching low, stood at over ten meters tall. Around them gathered slightly smaller ones—though even those stood five or six meters high.
[Name]: Dragonkin Behemoth
[Rank]: Tier 4
[Attribute]: Strength 270
[Description]: A supreme war beast synthesized by goblins through dragon's blood experimentation.
…
[Name]: Mutant Dragonkin Beast
[Rank]: Tier 3
[Attribute]: Strength 128
[Description]: The second-generation war beast born from goblin-dragon fusion experiments.
…
[Name]: Mutant Dragonkin Beast
[Rank]: Tier 2
[Attribute]: Strength 52
[Description]: The first-generation war beast created from dragon blood.
So these were the goblins' last trump cards? No wonder the stats were ridiculous.
In terms of sheer combat ability, only Hel's Elite Skeletal Heavy Cavalry Legion could hope to face those fourth-tier monsters head-on.
And even then, they were at a size disadvantage.
Those skeleton knights wielded greatswords over two meters long, yet even if they landed a hit, they'd barely draw blood—piercing vital points was out of the question.
What's worse, aside from Hel's fifth-tier units, she was outnumbered across the board.
Unless she deployed the Heavy Cavalry Legion, this battle would be unwinnable.
But… was it really worth throwing in all her cards here?
Just to conquer some ancient goblin ruin of uncertain value?
Hel wasn't the gambling type.
In her view, if her power wasn't enough yet, she'd simply bide her time, grow stronger, and return to crush her enemies effortlessly later.
And besides, she'd already gained plenty from this expedition.
No need to risk everything for an unknown reward.
Preserving strength—that was true wisdom.
Just as she was about to order a retreat back through the tunnel, a massive shadow emerged from behind the beasts.
[Name]: Ascended Brain Heavy Mecha
[Rank]: Tier 5
[Attributes]: Strength 522, Magic 522
[Description]: The pinnacle of goblin technology. A heavy combat mech powered through soul-link systems. The pilot—a fragile mage—is completely protected within the armored shell. Destroy the mech, and you'll still face a storm of magic from the operator inside.
"…You've got to be kidding me."
A mecha.
Hel stared at the thirty-meter-tall machine and couldn't stop herself from swearing.
"Goblins made a mecha? With their steam-age tech? Are you serious? What is this, a crossover event?"
Muttering curses under her breath, she did the smart thing—she ran.
Because who in their right mind would fight that thing?
A thirty-meter-tall juggernaut? Her Berserker Captain's "toothpick" of a greatsword wouldn't even scratch its armor plating—it'd probably bounce off its toenail.
One stomp, and they'd all be pancakes.
So yeah. Strategic withdrawal. Live to fight another day.
Except the mecha clearly didn't plan on letting them leave.
The giant reached down, grabbed the tail of a nearby Dragonkin Behemoth, swung it around twice like a flail, then hurled it through the air.
And don't be fooled by the casual motion—it was fast. Terrifyingly fast.
Hel barely heard the wind whistle before a black shadow fell from above, crashing down right onto the passage entrance.
The impact came with a thunderous explosion.
A shockwave ripped through the air, tossing Hel like a ragdoll.
She slammed into one of the Mechanical Centurions behind her and only stopped after bouncing twice.
Dazed, she staggered to her feet, groped around, and sheepishly reattached her detached skull.
Then she looked around… and realized something embarrassing.
Apparently, she was the only one who'd been sent flying.
The skeletons and mechanical constructs around her were barely ruffled—
but of course not. Every one of them was at least fourth-tier, their Strength stats through the roof.
Meanwhile, her borrowed body—a frail caster shell—had about as much physical durability as a mid-ranked knight.
Frankly, surviving that blast at all was a miracle.
But the enemy wasn't done yet.
Two more Dragonkin Behemoths were flung one after another, crashing down and completely sealing the passage.
And even after all that, the three beasts were only unconscious.
Their defenses were absurd.
"…So this is how goblins start a battle? By sacrificing their own troops?"
Hel couldn't tell if their commander was stupidly arrogant or just that confident.
To cripple three fourth-tier units before the fight even began…
Did the pilot really think they could crush her without even needing them?
Looking up at the emotionless giant mech, Hel felt a flash of burning irritation.
"So, that's how it is. You really think we're beneath you."
Her retreating steps halted.
She wasn't backing off because she was weak—just cautious.
But since the enemy clearly wanted a fight…
"Fine then," she said coldly. "Let's fight."
A glowing sigil flared to life beneath her feet.
[Advanced Death Magic: Soul Deprivation Field]