Ten minutes passed quickly under combat pressure. Theo continuously reported enemy positions to Vesper, making the atmosphere increasingly tense.

  In no time, the adversaries entered visual range—they were wolf-riding Goblins.

  They formed a chaotic and grotesque horde. The Goblins had dirty gray-green skin, gaunt bodies hunched over the backs of riding wolves. They wore scraps of tattered leather armor, brandishing wooden clubs or dull black-metal swords. The wolves beneath them were equally vicious—running fast and growling, their red eyes gleaming under the harsh sunlight. They formed a low, swift wave full of savage menace.

  Theo frowned. He'd seen them in 'Classification and Distribution of Contemporary Monster Species,' but they were only mentioned briefly because they belonged to Demon Creatures, not Monster Beasts. Demon Creatures had chaotic natures—raiding, killing, possessing intelligence—enemies of civilization and order.

  These wolf-riding Goblins numbered about twenty. What puzzled Theo was that they didn't attack but stopped ahead and waited. He looked up at Al's flight altitude, and based on its height, he confirmed another group was behind, obviously a different pack still pursuing. Perhaps the ones behind lacked wolves, making them slower.

  Theo narrowed his eyes, deciding he could eliminate some wolf riders first. Theo's absolute effective range without obstacles was 200 meters, His hit probability extended to 300 meters, but against the enemy's dense formation, 400 meters was worth attempting.

  G immediately calculated, its electronic voice ringing out emotionlessly, providing necessary technical parameters for the shot:

  "Target distance: 370 meters. Approach direction: Southwest. Elevation: -7 meters. Target stationary. Wind from the Northeast at 5 meters per second."

  Theo assessed internally—Sylvanius bow's draw weight currently reached about 35 kilograms —enough force to send the arrow to its destination.

  He raised the bow to an angle of about 40 degrees; the Sylvanius bowstring felt taut, as if it might snap under the 35 kg tension.

  G's voice reminded gently but quickly, along with a 3D image showing the arrow trajectory:

  "Too low. Increase elevation by approximately 2.2 degrees and adjust 1.2 mils to the North."

  Theo adjusted his hand to increase the bow's angle, aiming along the trajectory G had mapped out.

  Phwip!

  The sound of an arrow slicing wind shot forth with the bowstring's extreme recoil. Even with the magical Sylvanius bow, the snap still created a small sonic signature. This was the strongest, longest shot Theo had ever made. It was the first sweet fruit after twelve days of grueling training.

  He didn't wait for the bow to drop. He immediately readjusted his back muscles, maintaining perfect rhythm: three seconds per arrow, continuously released. A total of five full-power arrows, tipped with paralytic essence, flew toward the opponents.

  At this moment, the Goblins were laughing savagely, occasionally brandishing weapons threateningly toward the wagon train. When the first arrow flew in a parabolic arc and buried itself in the thigh of the lead wolf-riding Goblin, the momentum was so great it staggered both rider and wolf. The Goblin roared, but stupidity and bloodlust prevented it from stopping. Their dull minds still hadn't comprehended that death was approaching.

  Then came the three-second rhythm of subsequent arrows. By the last arrow, the first Goblin finally collapsed as the paralytic essence spread rapidly through its blood vessels. At the end of the volley, the results: two other Goblins and one wolf poisoned and fallen. Total tally: four hits, one miss after five shots.

  Only then did panic spread. The wolf-riding Goblins immediately retreated, maintaining a safe distance of 350 meters—the distance that had now become a death zone for them.

  After five shots, Theo's back muscles ached—a sign he still hadn't fully recovered from this morning's high-intensity training session.

  The caravan guards' eyes looked at Theo with astonishment, never expecting this kid who did such peculiar things could shoot so well. In contrast, his Night Hawk teammates' gazes held professional appreciation:

  Rowan smiled brightly, looking at Theo and raising her thumb. Finn nodded, affirming his excellent results. Liam also grinned widely, offering up his fist.

  Theo was quite satisfied with this achievement as well. Three paralyzed Goblins had caused three wolves to flee in panic, leaving them rolling on the ground. The unconscious wolf went without saying—its Goblin rider had thrown it aside and run. Eliminating four cavalry units was a decent result for an opening volley.

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  Before long, a small wave appeared—purely Goblins, numbering up to a hundred. The Goblin cavalry in the rear drove this horde forward. Vesper frowned slightly but showed no sign of wavering. His calm demeanor positively influenced the entire caravan, helping them maintain morale.

  Theo didn't engage at extreme range anymore—it consumed too much energy. He needed to conserve strength to respond when they approached the 300-meter mark.

  350 meters. The Goblins began surging forward like a small wave. Vesper's steady voice rang out:

  "Archers, prepare ranged fire!"

  250 meters. "Loose!"

  Four archers, including Theo, concentrated their damage output. The three guard archers fired roughly three arrows per second combined, but with mixed accuracy. Theo maintained a rhythm of 2 arrows/second, but each shot targeted vital positions, compensating for the guards' poor efficiency.

  200 meters. Finn's range was reached. His specialized crossbow fired two bolts at once, both accurate and fast, allowing him to quickly catch up to, even surpass, the combined damage output of the three guard archers. By this point, Theo's tally had reached 13 downed Goblins (not counting the first volley).

  150 meters. A blazing fireball hurled straight into their midst, causing area damage, killing and panicking a large number of opponents while slowing their advance. Rowan's tactics had succeeded.

  100 meters. Ronan and Liam stood ready, spears raised in preparation for their performance. Theo's tally now stood at 19 eliminated, maintaining consistent efficiency. At this point, only half the Goblins remained—around 70.

  50 meters. Ronan charged forward, Liam behind him. Ronan's spear was terrifyingly fast, completely different from when he'd demonstrated for Liam earlier. Still the same basic consecutive short thrusts, but crisp, precise, fast. Each thrust dropped a Goblin, sometimes claiming two lives.

  Theo calculated: less than one second per strike. He felt goosebumps realizing: Ronan was somewhat inhuman—truly, don't think 1 second per short strike is slow. That was precisely the boundary between human and inhuman in combat.

  Theo's throat went dry. That steel-wrapped hardwood spear weighed at least 5 kilograms, plus its 2-meter length—the inertia when reversing direction was enough to snap the wrist of any normal warrior. But in Ronan's hands, the laws of physics seemed bent. From a purely physical standpoint, ordinary people couldn't do this, no matter how intensively they trained.

  Ronan's combat data forced Theo to re-evaluate this world once more. This wasn't just a world with magic—it was a place where physical strength could exceed every limit he'd ever known.

  Moreover, Ronan employed astonishingly steady footwork, demonstrating absolute control over combat distance. He used only simple but highly effective sweeping strikes, preventing the Goblins from closing at all. Around Ronan, a 2.5-meter death zone was created solely with enemy blood and flesh.

  It was truly a perfect skill demonstration for the burning recruit fighting right behind him.

  Liam, with his "master's" eye-catching debut, had flames of nameless fire in his eyes. Unlike Ronan's powerful, steady, calculated steps like a fire fortress, Liam displayed his combat power through the speed and endurance of youthful passion. Each strike used full force, each movement spent everything. He wanted to use all his current skills to test the results of his recent grueling training.

  Phantom Wind was like a small lightning bolt flashing across the battlefield. Liam supported Ronan, eliminating remaining opponents, reducing the chance of Ronan being surrounded. Unlike Ronan's long spear, Liam's Zaravand short maul had a hammer blade, which not only increased the power of chopping strikes but also diversified his attacks. It made controlling damage and optimizing force for killing easier for Liam. Applying "body softening" techniques in shadow steps, he'd creatively developed his own endurance-enhancing combat technique. Liam's maul now wasn't just elusive but also sharp and terrifyingly powerful.

  The "master and apprentice" performance led to severe Goblin casualties and absolute panic. They began disintegrating despite their eyes still holding savagery and bloodlust.

  Suddenly, deep "thud-thud" sounds erased the battlefield's chaos. Theo could even feel small pebbles beneath his feet bouncing with each beat. Behind the Goblins, accompanied by wild shouts and clanging weapons, a new group appeared: the remaining cavalry.

  Not only a pack of about thirty wolf riders, but also two Hobgoblins mounted on two massive bulls. One had dark black fur with wide, curved, spiraling horns spreading to both sides. The other was very distinctive: covered in earth-brown fur, bone spikes along its spine, one broken horn atop its head, and three tails swaying behind.

  They charged forward at terrifying speed, with wild screams and the two long clubs wielded by the Hobgoblins on their backs. They disregarded the Goblins ahead, using full force to charge straight at the merchant caravan. Bull bellows, wild cheers, and rising dust compressed the air with crushing pressure. They'd cleverly used the common Goblins to draw attention for a perfect assault.

  Ronan showed no confusion whatsoever. With just one light movement like gliding across the ground, he dodged past the two charging Hobgoblins, letting them run past without a backward glance. However, his spear showed no mercy, thrusting straight toward the wolf-riding Goblins right behind.

  Liam also tried to imitate Ronan, but he lacked the experience and technique to evade so smoothly and sharply. He could only push Phantom Wind to his own limits to avoid their charge, then likewise ignored the two bulls, continuing to support Ronan.

  Two simultaneous shouts rang out behind Liam: "Hyaah!!"

  Boris and Torvin, holding shields, stood to receive the two massive bulls. Their legs didn't tremble at all, shields raised forward, entire bodies crouched with lowered center of gravity. Their faces still wore faint, confident smiles.

  "BOOM!!!!"