Chapter 263: Chapter 262: Evolution in Blood
The lizardmen fought in disciplined packs, rolling like a tide through the Sengolio line. Against their natural strength and Skitz’s drilled precision, the noble’s soldiers faltered, screams drowning beneath the wet crunch of bones and the heavy stomp of scaled feet grinding men into the mud.
Uncle Drake fought in steady rhythm, his heavy sword sweeping aside spears and shields, while Jen stayed close, her shield intercepting strikes meant for them both. Together, they carved forward step by step, neither yielding ground.
Lumberling moved through the chaos like a shadow, Skitz at his side. His gaze locked on the stronger presences, the Knights. Among them, one stood taller, his aura heavier than the rest. A True Knight at the first stage, a spear gripped firmly in his hand.
Skitz’s eyes gleamed. "That one’s mine to break... unless you want to draw first blood."
Lumberling’s lips curved into a thin smile as he lowered his spear. "We’ll take him together."
And with that, the two slipped into the storm, hunting their prey.
Steel clashed and screams tore through the battlefield as Lumberling and Skitz cut their way toward the heavier aura pulsing at the center of the enemy line. The Sengolio soldiers tried to form around their Knight, but the goblin and human tore through them like a storm tearing branches from a tree.
"There" Skitz hissed, eyes narrowing. The True Knight stood firm, spear leveled, the crest of his noble house emblazoned on his chestplate. His stance was steady, practiced.
The Knight’s voice cut through the chaos. "So, the Pentaline Empire sends monsters now? Or perhaps deserters playing at war?" He spat the words, spear lowering as lightning-fast intent pressed out around him. "Doesn’t matter. All of you will die here."
Lumberling stopped a few paces short, his own spear gripped firm, his gaze cool. "Big words for a man whose banner is already falling."
The Knight snarled, thrusting forward with a sudden burst of speed. The spear tore through the air, aiming for Lumberling’s chest.
But Lumberling had already moved. His body twisted, the point grazing past his ribs. He countered, spear sweeping low. The Knight pivoted smoothly, blocking with practiced ease. The clang of steel-on-steel rang sharp.
Skitz darted in at that moment, his twin daggers flashing toward the man’s unarmored joint. The Knight shifted, knocking one blade aside with the haft of his spear and kicking Skitz back with brutal force.
The goblin slid across the dirt, lips curling. "Tch. Tough bastard."
The Knight advanced, his aura pressing harder now, his spear dancing in practiced arcs. But Lumberling met him head-on, parrying blow after blow, his body absorbing the force like tempered iron. Skitz circled, always pressing from the side, his movements like smoke slipping through cracks.
A brutal exchange erupted, spear against spear, dagger against steel. Sparks burst with every clash. The Knight gritted his teeth, frustration flashing in his eyes as he realized he was being pulled apart, his focus forced to split between the relentless spear of the human and the ghostly blades of the goblin.
"Enough!" the Knight roared, his spear lashing out in a blur. Three rapid thrusts struck in a single breath, fangs of steel snapping toward heart, throat, and gut in merciless rhythm. His aura flared bright, momentum crashing down like a wave, the ground itself seeming to recoil from his assault.
The first strike crashed against Lumberling’s parry, the impact shuddering up his arms hard enough to numb his fingers. The second came an instant later, low and brutal, he twisted, dragging his spear down just in time, the point scraping sparks against his shaft as it was knocked aside.
Lumberling grunted under the pressure, but then... thunder rumbled faintly in his core. His grip tightened, activating both his skills.
’Thundering Lunge, Spearheart Thrust’ his strike became sharper than before as he charged and forced the Knight back half a step, just enough.
"Now!" he barked.
Skitz slipped in like a shadow, his dagger driving toward the Knight’s thigh. The man twisted too late, the blade sank deep, making him stumble.
And in that single falter, Lumberling’s spear came down.
The tip pierced through armor, driving into the Knight’s chest. His eyes went wide, the breath punched from him. For a heartbeat he struggled, disbelief painted across his face, then the strength drained from his limbs, and he collapsed to the blood-soaked dirt.
(You have devoured the Knight’s essence. 1500 essence absorbed. Absorbing a portion of the Knight’s memories and experience.)
(Beginner Triple Fang has been learned Lv. 0 (1/1000).)
Lumberling’s eyes narrowed as the new flow of knowledge burned into him, the stance of a spear thrusting three times in one breath, a predator’s rhythm captured in motion. His lips curved faintly.
"Another tool," he muttered. Three spear techniques now. Maybe even more once he learned to weave them together.
There was only one way to test it.
"Skitz, keep their attention," he barked.
The goblin grinned and dove into the fray. Lumberling followed, his spear moving faster, sharper, his strikes weaving between thunderous thrusts and the memory of the new Triple Fang technique.
Bodies fell and essence flowed.
Skitz dragged a battered Knight toward him, the man still twitching, barely alive. "Another prey," the goblin hissed.
Lumberling’s spear pierced the man’s chest without hesitation. Essence surged. But he directed the flood not into himself, but outward, guiding it through Essence Weave into Skitz. The goblin shuddered, his veins glowing faintly before the light settled into his frame.
"You’re getting better at this," Skitz said, flexing his dagger hand with a sharp grin.
Lumberling gave a curt nod, already turning. "Bring me more."
And more came. His captains appeared through the storm one by one, dragging bloodied Knights or broken enemies. Aren’s elite squad hauled a fallen spearman, and Lumberling pushed its essence into Aren’s body until the man’s shoulders shook from the rush.
Gobo1 and Gobo2 strode in together, their hunter blades dripping red, dropping an armored foe before him. With practiced ease, Lumberling devoured the essence, then channeled it into their cores.
Each time, his soldiers grew sharper, stronger. They were no longer just fighting, they were evolving in the middle of battle.