Chapter 115: Why Hide?

Ned's recurve bow's string snapped. And with no bow to attack, or blade to defend he jumped backward. Letting the ax hit air as the goblin leader swung with raging eyes.

But the swing never stopped, instead, the goblin leader let the ax hurled in circle. Making it and itself gain momentum and pivoted on the muddy ground and formed a perfect circle midair, marking another attack. A whirlwind of ax.

The loop was instant that Ned doesn't have enough time to evade. Ned could see a blur of iron ax coming his way as his waist was bent, he raised his left hand over his head to block the attack.

The blank side of the ax made contact with Ned's arm with a bang. Ned scraped the muddy soil with his thrown off body.

The goblin leader's muscle threaded body was the complete opposite of Ned. He was fourteen, slender, and doing his best to grow his body. An iron ax with a handle of wood, and an arm filed with muscles, coupled with the ax's momentum, Ned was thrown meters from the goblin. The goblin leader smirked, thinking that he downed the one who shot an arrow into his neck.

[Impact detected.]

Ned's system chimed with a series of notification.

[Defender skill in effect. Able to withstand physical and magical attack from tier 1 items or spells.]

[Be careful Ned.]

Wit the chime, comes ICE soft, accented voice.

[The Mark of the Knight helps you withstand attacks. But be considerate. There's a limit to what it can do. Your body might not stand a continues and extraneous attacks.]

After a series of prompts. ICE forced combat mode on Ned's display.

Ned's vision turned blue then red, after which, a series of digits appeared into his display. Marking the goblin leader's short neck with a digit, their joints—mostly soft parts. And the eyes—which has the highest digits compared to the rest.

Ned brushed the sweat forming on his forehead with his arm, the same arm the ax hit. "Not a scratch," Ned muttered as if talking to self, while he shakes his left arm. "So, currently this is my limit, Grade E leaders, with a weapon of tier 1."

[Yes, Ned. Two fireballs are enough to down that goblin leader.]

"No," Ned said. Crackling his fingers and neck. "Aside from fun, this is also a good way to earn resources while having decent training.

[You do not have a bow, Ned.]

Reality struck Ned. In order to finish the game, a bow was required. And his sixty silver bow snapped.

"Yes," he said, smiling while he took a stance to perform against the surprised goblin. "But, I'm not the only one with a bow here."

[That is fine. There is no rule that said about stealing.]

"Stealing?" Ned spoke after his system. "Who said I'm going to steal?"

[Me?]

Ned heard a witty chime. He smiled as if his life wasn't in danger with the rushing goblin leader. He angled his left hand higher to his right across his chest. 

The ground thumped and splat as the goblin stomp its green feet. It roared and swung its ax. Ned flipped backward. Upon landing, he dashed, kicking the goblins knee. It stumbled awkwardly and fell with one knee. Ned then grabbed a mud throwing it into the goblin's eyes. Giving him enough chance to rush in the still downed Swift.

Ned stopped across Swift. Beside the masked participant was the goblin leader. Ned's pull of the last arrow was strong enough to break the string in two. The result was the arrow bored deep into the goblin leader's neck. Blood stopped to flow as it clogged the entry point.

Swift looked at Ned upright, with his butt on the ground, arms supporting him from behind. A small bag was also strapped behind his waist. Ned assumed a knife was hidden just like Kwan.

Kwan who was nowhere to be found might be at the back near the edge of the arena together with the fleeing participants. An assumption they only could guess since the game started with the goblins appearing in the center of the arena.

"What are you doing?" Swift said in a small voice. His voice was like being pinched from the inside of his throat. Swift coughed. "Th— thank you." This time, his voice was round and manly under the black mask with a single hole.

I don't like hoping. Ned thought to himself. But that last arrow wasn't just to help him.

"Not enough," Ned said under his panting breath. His black tunic was muddled with mud not to mention his faded trousers, especially his black boots laced with leather. Aside from his face, luckily his hair was short and dimming with silver, if not, he looked more of an errand boy who was tasked by his master to feed the horses inside a barn full of shit, while he stunk of shit at the same time. Ned stretched his hand at the butt sitting Swift and hoped. "How about an arrow for a life?"

Even under the black mask, Swift knew what Ned wanted. Now that Ned was close, a tiny thread of hair, dark hair, peeked at the corners of his rounded mask. Aside from a smudge of mud, the surface of his mask was sleek, like made of marble rather than wood varnished with black.

The goblin roared. Anger, humiliation, and frustration filled its voice.

The people cried. Excitement, thrill, and enjoyment filled the dome.

Ned stood, while Swift pulled one of the leather straps that locked the mechanical bow on his wrist.

Swift's mechanical bow was locked with many straps that Ned couldn't follow since he spun around and faced the now-wiped-off-mud on its eye goblin.

At five feet, the goblin looked like a lumberjack running wild with an ax and no neck. Every stomp of its feet was accompanied by a roar.

"No time," Ned cried out his thought. He moved, spun around Swift, and pulled the man in his underarm.

Swift stood hastily, giving up on unstrapping the mechanical bow. While Ned stood behind him. Both wore the same height, at five-six or five-seven the two stood awkwardly. Pretty sure for Swift, since Ned stretched out his hand beside Swift's body. More precisely his love handle. To Swift's left, came another hand. It wasn't his love handle. But Ned stretched out to grip Swift's wrist where the mechanical bow was attached. "Fire when I say so," Ned whispered behind Swift's mask. With the cue, Ned pulled swift closer to his body. The warmth of Ned's body traveled across Swift's. Penetrating the leather clothes he wore. With the pull came a soft moan and a squeak. Ned doesn't mind, since the goblin would spare them no time.

Swift raised his left hand guided by the hand holding his wrist. Ned aimed at the goblin with the display in his vision. For assurance purposes, pretty sure that would be ICE's response. Ned peeked behind Swift. "Fire," Ned said. Pretty sure a whisper under Swift's left ear.

It took Swift seconds before he could process all the things that had occurred between him and Ned. He snapped. And fire a single short arrow under his wrist. Hitting the kneecap of the surprised goblin leader.

"Not enough," Ned said, not a whisper this time. "We need to move closer."

"Wait!" Swift cried. High pitched, not rounded, or forced. A quick; surprise cry. "I can't—"

"I know," Ned whispered. That's deliberate. "I know you're good with bow but worst at close range. I saw it. Now move."

Instinctively, Swift's foot moved, followed by another; followed by another behind him. Ned paced according to Swift's movements.

Ned felt that Swift's left arm was relaxed, it was as if he has given up on struggling and let Ned to the moves. On which he did, his left arm moved and raised once more. "Fire," Ned said under his breath. Swift followed, letting go of the arrow, hitting the same knee.

At close range, the arrow traveled with a blur, enough for the goblin to not see it, evade from it, or guard against it.

Swift's mechanical bow was good at mid-range. With a lot of accuracies and a rapid rate of fire in return of less strength and power. But Ned knew all these, he also knew that at a close range, almost double the length of a sword, the wrist mechanical bow was devastating. Proven since the goblin roared in agony and fell on one knee while it gripped the ax as a crutch.

Before it could gain its momentum back, Ned gave the word. Arrow flew straight to the goblin's eye. It wasn't just a hit, the arrow bore straight into its brain. Blood seeped out its eye socket followed by a green sticky lump of meat. The moving cactus fell from warmth then coldness enveloped its body.

"Why hide?" Ned whispered.

With a quick and short moan, Swift jolted away from his body from Ned under his rapid breath. "What do you know!" He cried, a pitch not suitable for a kid maybe fifteen or seventy-years-old. And as if he remembered something. He spun around, unstrap the remaining locks of his wrist-bow, and gave to Ned. "Now  we're even."

Ned shook his head hearing Swift's forced and rounded voice.

Accepting the mechanical bow—made of iron that crescent until his elbow. Under the iron padding were strings; thin yet sturdy that connects to a small button under the ball of Ned's wrist; he assumed the push button to release the arrows. The arrows were then loaded inside a rectangular object—magazine according to Ned—that was attached under his arm reaching his elbow. He then straps it on his wrist and adjusted to fit. After he rotated his wrist to find a suitable adjustment, he smiled for the tingling sensation was gone, and realized that the bow was lightweight and easy to move.

That explains the great accuracy. Ned thought. 

Liv and Don arrived at the scene with the two cactus-like goblin leaders lying on the ground; dead.

They were followed with other participants, the brave ones, exiting the forest almost a dozen left, and arrived with the same feeling as Liv and Don, defeated.

Ned and Swift fought level eight side by side without having to say a single word. But Ned knew from time to time Swift threw a gaze under the single hole of his mask.

Level eight was finished with haste since most of the participants were now concentrated in the middle of the arena—where the goblins were being spawned out of the cracking ground.

Level eight became a battle of who has the precise aim; who has the grand moves; who has the best bow; and who has the highest number of a kill.

Level nine went by a little rough for the participants since four goblin leader ranking at the peak of Grade E, which was nearly Grade D took the arena. The participants were down to nine as the rest gave up, lack of arrow; or cared for their dear lives, and went into the edge near the barrier.

To Ned's surprise, Swift wasn't someone who was overconfident like the Don guy, or having an air of threat like the Hunter Liv. Swift was someone who accepts his weakness, and for that, he stuck around Ned to compensate for his flaw; which was to battle in close combat.

After Swift finished level eight—which was his first time to reach level nine—although forced, he gave a nod to Ned. And Ned assumed that under his mask, along with the nod came a smile.

"You're good," Swift said, his voice was muffled due to his mask. He stood beside Ned almost a meter apart, looking at the pond with a curdling green liquid in the center.

"The way your aim," Ned said. Putting the magazine, which according to Swift were numbered two hundred thin iron-arrows, and finished it with a simple tap of the flat of his hand. "You must be well trained. And not all have the privileged to be trained since young."

"It wasn't prev—"

The ground trembled and a mechanical clinking sound vibrated under the floor. The shallow pond then cracked half, revealing a tall, and slowly emerging, almost eight to nine feet rectangular object that was covered with a black to brown tarp or coarse material.

A rapid and rough breathing let out steam at the tiny holes of the covering.

"Level ten!" The announcer bellowed. He waved his hand left and right. Indicating to start the bet for the last time.

With the shout. The covered object roared inside. And a thumping sound echoed the dome as if someone was confined to eternity.

Ned stood with Swift side by side, almost twenty meters apart from the object. At their back, participants rushed toward the center.

One of the participants let loose of his arrow hitting the covered object followed by a squeaking sound.

"Let the Champion," the announcer said under his loud voice. Stopped, and continued. "Loose!"

The course material was then pulled at the bottom. Revealing a giant goblin with a number, uncountable, of healed cuts. Its fur, silver and a streak of black, ran from his neck down to his waist, flies buzz under his fur. Muscles outlined his very body that looked like a small dark-green mountain. Completely intact canine teeth revealed themselves while sticky liquid seeped out its mossy tooth. It holds not one, but three axes. Both on his hands, and one, short ax, slung on his waist.

Aside from Ned and maybe Swift. The rest gasped, gawked, and thrilled; frightened at the same time. Even the audiences stood in surprise. Some cried pointing at the abomination in the center of the arena. But not because of its hulking appearance, not cause he holds three strange and massive axes. But because of the crystal ball hung around his neck with a chain. Inside the crystal ball was a stone; blue, smooth, and glossy. Almost perfectly cut.

Liv reached the two followed by Don. Eyeing the stone in the creature's neck. He was thrilled as if he was waiting for this moment.

"Maker's tongue!" Cried Don. Swallowing a lump of liquid then said with a short breath: "Mana Stone."