Back on the battlefield, the ground shuddered as Peonome's distant explosion rolled across the plains like a delayed thunderclap. A column of smoke bloomed on the horizon. Arnold felt it through his boots and grinned through clenched teeth as he uncorked a health regeneration vial and downed it in one rough swallow. Samantha and Illumi followed suit—mana rejuvenation potions, quick and practiced. Illumi's breathing never changed; her expression remained soft, almost serene, as if the violence around her were little more than a passing storm.
The goblin king moved.
He lifted his head and surveyed the field with predatory focus. Despite their numbers, the goblin ranks were buckling—humans advancing in tight formations, rotating lines with discipline the goblins could not match. The king crouched, dragged two fingers through blood-soaked soil, and smeared three crimson lines across his forehead. When he roared, it was not an order but a declaration. The goblins answered in kind, frenzy igniting their eyes as they surged forward with renewed savagery.
Arnold and Samantha split without a word, flanking instincts honed by countless battles. Illumi stayed back, book glowing faintly as steady healing pulses washed over them. The goblin king met the charge head-on. His axe crashed into Arnold's shield with brutal force, sending the knight skidding back several meters, boots carving trenches in the dirt. Samantha lunged, illusions blooming around her—but a single stomp shattered them, the shockwave rattling her bones.
"Damn it," she hissed, barely hopping back as the axe slammed down where her head had been.
Arnold pushed himself upright, pride burning hotter than the pain. "He hits like a battering ram," he said, voice strained but eager.
"No shit," Samantha snapped. "Assist me."
He barked a laugh. "You mean babysit."
"Whatever keeps you useful."
She darted in again. The axe came down—Arnold slammed his shield into the ground. "Fortified Shield." A transparent barrier flared just in time, the blow screeching against it. Samantha slipped past, blades flashing, carving a shallow line across the king's arm before narrowly evading a counterstrike. Arnold charged from behind, hammer raised—only to be stopped mid-swing by a crushing kick that forced him back behind his shield.
"I'm done playing. Old man, move."
Samantha landed hard, boots biting into churned soil. Arnold did not argue. Pride urged him to stay, but experience won; he pulled back, shield raised, eyes never leaving the goblin king.
Samantha dropped to one knee and slammed both palms into the ground. Her voice was cold, flat, almost bored.
"Unique skill: Predator's Paradise—Golem's Hand."
The earth groaned. A massive stone hand tore free from below, fingers like broken towers, clamping around the goblin king's legs. The king roared and wrenched, muscles bulging, but the grip held.
"I'm not done," Samantha muttered.
She inhaled deeply, chest expanding, then exhaled a pale, milky mist straight at the restrained king.
"Predator's Paradise—Gorgon's Blood."
The liquid splashed and hardened instantly, spreading like frost over flesh and armor. In a heartbeat, the goblin king was entombed from the neck down in white stone, only his head free—eyes still burning, expression unnervingly calm.
Arnold stared. "Seriously… how many damn mysteries does that mouth of yours have? You ever worry men would be too scared to date you?"
"I don't need men to survive," Samantha said without looking at him.
"I've got sons," Arnold added, grinning despite the tension. "I could arrange something."
"Shut up," she snapped. "And finish him."
Arnold stepped forward, pride straightening his spine. He raised his hammer, aiming for the king's skull.
Cracks spiderwebbed across the hardened shell.
Then it exploded.
Arnold barely managed to brace behind his shield as shards blasted outward. Burning spears of flame materialized around the goblin king, hovering like vengeful stars. The king wrenched free, swinging his axe toward Arnold while the spears screamed toward Samantha.
Then.
The ground beneath the king suddenly turned soft, swallowing his footing, and small light barriers appeared before Samantha, absorbing each spear with incredible precision.
"Am I late?" Peonome asked calmly, hovering above, eyes already calculating.
Arnold exhaled and laughed. "No. You're just in time."
Peonome was the first to notice it.
Not the goblin king's movements—those were minimal—but the stillness beneath them. His breathing was slow. Measured. Calm in a way that had no place on a battlefield drowning in blood and noise. Her instincts screamed, sharp and unrelenting, drowning out every other thought.
Run.
She did not hesitate.
Peonome snapped her staff upward and spoke a single, clipped incantation. Space folded with a sound like tearing silk. In the same instant, Samantha and Arnold were wrenched from where they stood, the world blurring and inverting—
—and they reappeared beside Illumi.
A heartbeat later, the goblin king roared.
It was nothing like before. The sound was deeper, heavier, carrying a pressure that crushed the air itself. The ground convulsed. A wave of heat followed the roar, not a simple blast but a rolling surge, indiscriminate and absolute. Flesh, armor, banners—everything it touched ignited. Men screamed once, then not at all.
Illumi's eyes widened only slightly.
She clasped her hands together, her voice steady and gentle despite the chaos. "Sanctuary."
A pale dome of light bloomed around the four Keepers, barely wide enough to hold them. Flames crashed against it like a living tide and were peeled away, unable to pass. Outside the barrier, the battlefield became an inferno—rows of soldiers reduced to burning silhouettes, the ground glowing as if the sun itself had drawn near, yet never melting, never turning to lava. Just endless, consuming fire.
A chill ran through them despite the heat.
Peonome bent, picked up a stone, and tossed it beyond the barrier. It vanished instantly, swallowed by flame. She exhaled slowly, forcing her racing thoughts into order.
"We need to retreat," she said, voice calm but firm. "We cannot win against this creature."
Samantha turned on her with a sharp, humorless grin. "What's this? The princess finally scared?"
Peonome met her gaze without flinching. "I am not afraid of dying. I am afraid of dying for nothing."
Samantha's eyes hardened. "Nothing?" Her voice dropped, edged with venom. "You see all those soldiers who burned a moment ago? Are you saying their deaths were meaningless?"
"That's not what I—"
"Enough." Samantha spat to the side. "Illumi, enhancement. If the princess won't fight, then I will. What about you, old man?"
Arnold did not answer. He simply stepped forward, boots scraping against scorched earth. Heat washed over him, searing, oppressive—but he squared his shoulders and endured, jaw set, pride written into every rigid line of his stance.
Illumi opened her grimoire, light flowing outward in soft waves. Strength, clarity, resilience—her blessings settled over them like a quiet promise.
Samantha rolled her neck once. "Good."
She burst forward.
"Unique skill: Predator's Paradise—Santilmo's Breath."
An orange glow wrapped around her body, heat shimmering in her wake. She drew a sharp breath, eyes narrowing.
"Ultimate skill: Godspeed."
The world seemed to tear as she vanished.