God Agent: All Hail The Great Kobold

Meanwhile, on another part of the battlefield, the clash between Lan’ka and Rudor had become increasingly brutal. Neither side had managed to gain a decisive advantage, but the longer the fight continued, the more obvious it became that Rudor’s Blood Magic gave him an advantage that was extremely difficult to overcome. Every wound Lan’ka inflicted was temporary, while every mistake he made brought him closer to death.

Swoosh!

Rudor suddenly threw a punch forward, his enlarged crimson arm cutting through the air with tremendous force. Lan’ka met the attack head on, driving his own fist forward with all the strength he could muster.

BAM!

Their fists collided.

Lan’ka’s arm immediately went numb from the impact, the shock travelling from his knuckles all the way to his shoulder. His feet slid backward as he staggered several steps, his expression tightening from the pain meanwhile, Rudor barely moved. His crimson body remained planted firmly on the ground as he lowered his fist and immediately charged.

The hulking goblin closed the distance before Lan’ka could recover. His muscles were swollen beneath his crimson skin, and the bloody runes carved across his body continued glowing faintly as blood flowed through them. He swung another punch toward Lan’ka’s chest, intending to crush him before he could regain his balance.

Lan’ka allowed himself to fall backward.

The fist passed over his face as he rolled across the ground, using the momentum to turn onto his back before twisting his body and landing on one knee. His palm slammed against the earth.

"Earth Magic: Earth Spikes!"

The ground beneath Rudor exploded and a thick earth spike erupted upward and drove directly into his stomach.

Pfft!

Rudor’s body jerked violently as the stone pierced through his abdomen. Blood poured from the wound, staining the earth beneath his feet. Lan’ka expected him to stagger backward from the impact, but the goblin simply lowered his head and stared at the stone protruding from his body.

For a moment, Rudor said nothing. Then his hand closed around the earth spike.

Crack!

He smashed it apart.

Chunks of stone scattered across the ground as Rudor grabbed the remaining piece embedded in his stomach and pulled it out with one violent motion. The wound widened, causing even more blood to gush from his abdomen, yet the blood never reached the ground.

The liquid gathered around the wound as though commanded by an invisible force, covering the torn flesh and rapidly clotting. The crimson liquid darkened until it became almost black, hardened and peeled away from his body.

Beneath it was perfectly healed flesh.

Lan’ka’s eyes narrowed.

"This again."

No matter how many times he wounded this man, the result remained the same. Rudor simply refused to stay injured. All his injuries could be repaired within seconds as long as there was enough blood available.

Lan’ka’s gaze shifted toward Rudor’s left shoulder. A crimson rune was slowly fading there. That was where the spell had originated.

His eyes traveled across the rest of Rudor’s body, and the sight made his expression grow increasingly grim. Runes covered nearly every part of the goblin’s exposed skin. Some were carved into his arms, others across his chest, shoulders, stomach and even his neck. Each one could be activated almost instantly, allowing Rudor to use different forms of Blood Magic without needing to stop and prepare a spell.

He wasn’t simply carrying spells. His entire body was a collection of spells and the battlefield itself provided him with ammunition.

Lan’ka could see thin streams of blood occasionally crawling across the ground from wounded warriors before disappearing into Rudor’s body. Every casualty around them potentially became another source of power for the blood mage.

Rudor slowly rolled his shoulders.

"You will never win against my Blood Magic." He sneered.

Lan’ka didn’t answer. He simply lowered his body and charged.

He understood that talking wouldn’t change anything. If Rudor’s Blood Magic truly gave him the ability to recover from nearly every injury, then Lan’ka had to find a way to overwhelm him before the goblin could recover. His feet thundered across the ground as he rushed forward.

___ Meanwhile ___

Not too far from their battlefield, Tu’ka was fighting his own battle.

The young kobold stood in the middle of an unusually dark section of the tunnel, gripping a broken spear stained with blood. Drops of red liquid slid down the weapon and fell repeatedly onto the ground. His chest rose and fell heavily, and blood had gathered around his hairline before running down the side of his face and dripping from his chin.

Two goblins lay dead nearby, their bodies were twisted in unnatural positions, evidence of how quickly Tu’ka had overwhelmed them.

Three more robed goblin shamans remained.

They stood several meters away from him with their hands hidden beneath their dark cloaks. Only one carried a torch, but even that torch behaved strangely. Its flames burned weakly, as though something unseen was constantly draining the light from it.

The entire area seemed darker than it should have been.

The torches carried by other goblins fighting farther down the tunnel barely illuminated this section. Their light weakened as it approached the darkness surrounding Tu’ka, and even the sounds of battle seemed strangely muted.

The clash of weapons became distant and the screams of wounded warriors sounded muffled. Even the impact of spells seemed suppressed. It was as though the darkness had swallowed more than light.

Huff!

Tu’ka exhaled slowly.

He adjusted his grip around the broken spear and straightened his posture. His eyes turned completely black as the darkness surrounding him thickened.

It spread outward from his body, creeping across the ground and climbing the surrounding walls. Within seconds, Tu’ka’s silhouette began disappearing into it until there was nothing left for the goblins to see.

"Form a circle! Watch each other’s backs! Don’t let that demon get the jump on us again!" one of the robed goblins ordered.

The remaining two immediately moved closer, placing their backs against each other as they carefully watched the darkness surrounding them. They had already lost two of their companions to Tu’ka’s attacks, and neither intended to become the third.

One of the shamans swallowed nervously.

"These guys... They’re all monsters. We should have never entered here!"

His voice trembled as he looked into the darkness.

Never in his life had he encountered a race in the Evergreen Forest with this many talented individuals concentrated within a single colony. The adults were terrifying enough, but the younger generation was even more disturbing. Ka’z had already demonstrated enough power to make them question everything they knew about kobolds, and now Tu’ka was hunting them through darkness like some kind of predator.

"We should have just waited for them to leave their caves," another shaman said shakily. "Fighting them here is suicide!"

The first goblin’s expression hardened. He turned around and slapped the speaker across the face.

SMACK!

"Stop whining!" he snapped. "Once Chief kills that man, he will be able to handle everything else. No one can stop Chief!"

The goblin rubbed his cheek and glared at his comrade, but before he could respond, something changed behind them.

Pfft!

Blood suddenly erupted from the first goblin’s mouth. His eyes widened as a spear had pierced through his back and emerged from his chest.

His body stiffened as his hands slowly rose toward the weapon protruding from his torso, but his fingers never reached it.

The two remaining goblins froze, neither dared breathe. Behind their fallen commander stood a familiar silhouette.

Tu’ka emerged from the darkness with the broken spear still buried through the goblin’s chest. His body was partially concealed by the shadows, leaving only his face visible with his eyes burned with a cold purple light.