I am the Enchantress!

Chapter 39 Want to Eat My Flesh

The four of them did not linger any longer.

Joffrey led the way, and Cyrion's pace quickened considerably.

Gru, with his short legs, struggled to keep up, his mouth never stopping.

Have you ever eaten goblin flesh?

"Is that stuff edible?" Wilder frowned.

Not to mention his nauseatingly grayish-green skin, he felt a kind of uncanny unease about any upright, humanoid creature.

"No one would normally eat that."

Gru raised an eyebrow. "But that doesn't stop some taverns from mixing goblin meat with beef, since the diners are all drunk and can't tell the difference anyway."

"Well……"

Wild changed the subject, "Do goblins really like to eat human flesh?"

"That's true. Goblins love dwarf meat the most, followed by human flesh. It's said they hoard both kinds of meat specifically for festivals..."

Before he could finish speaking, Cyrion, who was walking ahead, suddenly stopped, and Gru almost bumped into his back.

"What's wrong?"

"I almost forgot, goblins like to eat human flesh."

Cyrion turned his head and looked back at the dense forest he had just left. "Then why is the body still there?"

Wilder was also stunned.

He recalled the scene of squatting on the ground to observe ants when he was a child.

When a patrolling ant discovers a large piece of food, it leaves a scent mark, quickly returns to its nest, and gathers its companions to carry it away.

The goblin was less than three feet tall, a head shorter than Gru.

There's only one reason they didn't move the body...

I'm going back to get help.

"Cyrion..."

"Hurry!" Cyrion drew his one-handed sword and gripped it tightly. "If we're too late, we might run into those bastards."

"What's there to be afraid of?" Gru also took his long axe off his shoulder. "Goblins aren't even as strong as wild dogs. If we run into them, we can just kill them!"

"There might be goblins who know magic, so it's best to be cautious."

Wilder was even more certain of his earlier deductions.

Goblins are not strong in combat and usually win by sheer numbers. To take down three adventurers, you need at least twice as many goblins.

But that way, they would be able to move the corpse.

Unless, of course, the number of goblins is not large, and victory is not based on numbers.

It is magic.

"Wild is right."

Cyrion nodded. "Goblin communities occasionally have goblin priests who are skilled in magic. Those things are not easy to deal with; it's a difficult task."

A monster that can use magic?

The last one I encountered was a Phase Spider.

Gru shuddered and shut his mouth.

The three quickened their pace.

Just then, a series of light yet hurried footsteps rushed from the opposite direction.

Joffrey.

When the explorers return, it often signifies a crisis.

"alert!!!"

Cyrion shouted, raised his oak round shield, and assumed a fighting stance.

Gru stood beside him, his hands gripping the long axe tightly.

Wilder stood at the back, holding an oak staff, the spell within the ruby ​​ready to be cast at any moment.

Joffrey ran to his teammates, a black dagger in his hand.

"They're goblins," he said briefly. "More than ten."

"Damn it, they really brought corpses!" Gru, who hadn't contributed much in the previous battle, was now brimming with fighting spirit. "I'm going to cut half of them down! Nobody can take any more!"

"These are not ordinary goblins; some of them know magic."

Cyrion stared at the dense forest before him. "I've been detected by an alarm system with a range of fifty feet."

The stronger the magic power, the larger the range of the spell.

A fifty-foot alarm spell is enough to rival a junior mage in the guild.

"It must be a goblin priest."

Cyrion gritted his teeth. "Moving corpses, knowing magic, I guessed both of those right."

It's good that you guessed correctly.

Unfortunately, all the predictions were for the worst possible outcome.

"Rustling sound—"

The branches and leaves directly in front of them suddenly swayed a few times.

Then, a figure appeared.

Short, hunched, with grayish-green skin and a round head, it looked like a malnourished pumpkin.

Goblin.

Their names occupy the most space on the Adventurers' Guild's quest board, like cockroaches from a past life, impossible to eradicate completely.

Goblins are short and thin, and their individual combat ability is even worse than that of wild dogs in the countryside.

However, they possess more developed brains than ordinary monsters, are cunning by nature, and can pose a considerable threat when they appear in groups.

At that moment, the goblin in front of them grinned.

Instead of rushing closer, it put two fingers in its mouth and blew a very thin, long whistle.

"Whoosh—"

Then, one after another, gray-green and yellowish-brown heads emerged from the bushes, behind the rocks, and in the shadows of the tree trunks.

Around fifteen.

Each one looks different, but they are all ugly and vulgar, each holding a different weapon.

The broken spiked club, the rusty short sword, the chipped machete, and even the worn-out logging axe were probably looted from a logging team.

"Damn it, I was thinking of letting you off the hook so that neither side would have any trouble."

Cyrion slowly raised his longsword horizontally, the silvery-white blade flashing briefly in the sunlight.

"But since you've come to us in person, there's no reason not to give you a ride!"

The goblin on the other side couldn't understand human language, so it gibberished for a few moments before suddenly charging towards Cyrion and his group.

"Gru and I will face it head-on! Joffrey and Wilder, find that goblin priest and kill him!"

Cyrion laid out his tactics with just one sentence before charging in with Gru.

The battle is imminent!

"Bang!"

Cyrion struck first, smashing the goblin charging at the front with a powerful shield strike.

Gru roared and slammed his heavy axe down on a goblin, who barely managed to block it with his spiked club, struggling to defend himself.

Another goblin ambushed the dwarf from behind, thrusting his dagger straight at his waist.

Gru instantly fell to the ground, dodging the dagger while sweeping with his long axe, chopping off both feet of the goblin behind him.

"Damn, so incredibly weak!"

Joffrey had already swiftly blended into the goblins, searching for the priest while casually slashing a goblin's neck with his dagger.

Wilder stood at the back, his palms facing upwards, gathering grease magic, his gaze rapidly scanning the battlefield.

If you can't find it, burn it all!

At that moment, a goblin spotted Wilder, the thinnest of the three, and charged toward him, swinging his sword.

"Ga ya ga ga la ga!"

(This human is so fair and tender, their meat must be delicious!)

"Don't move!!!"

Wilder immediately terminated the spell and activated [Command].

The goblin froze in front of him, motionless.

"Pfft!"

Wilder plunged his dagger into its neck.

"Gala ba gaga ya".

(If you want to eat my flesh, wait until your next life.)

In no time, the team had taken care of four goblins.

Barring any unforeseen circumstances, the battle will end soon.

But an unexpected event soon followed.

"Buzz—"

The air was tinged with a faint scarlet hue for a moment.

The incessant hissing sound surged into Wilder's ears like blades, causing excruciating pain in his brain nerves as if they were being cut.

Not only him, but Cyrion and Gru also slowed down noticeably, clearly having encountered the same attack.

【The Art of Harsh Words】

The goblin priest, whose whereabouts were unknown, cast a spell.