I Am Not A Goblin Slayer

Judging from the smooth cross‑section, the arrows in the trunk, and the still‑wet smears of blood on the ground, someone must have used a bow to shoot the rope from afar; after the mounts were wounded, they bolted in panic.

"Someone tampered with them. They want us dead out here!" Medvedeva went on.

The others also recalled the strange feeling back in the wetlands and all frowned.

When they were moving through the wetlands, they had been extremely careful, yet out of nowhere a furious band of Marsh Beastmen locked onto them. Forced into a corner, they had no choice but to fight back and make a quick break for the edge of the wetlands.

And during that retreat, more and more Marsh Beastmen kept converging.

The plan had been simple: as long as they got out of the wetlands and mounted up, they could quickly leave this troublesome place behind.

They never imagined that in the short time they were away, their mounts would be sabotaged just like that.

These mounts were all trained; even if they were spooked, they would return to where their owners were after a while.

But now they no longer had that luxury of time.

That pack of Marsh Beastmen would soon surround this place.

"Run first!"

"Head the opposite way and get as far as you can!"

Time was tight, howls kept rolling out from the wetlands behind them, and Levin had no time to think. He issued the order without hesitation.

Since they’d lost their mounts, they could only keep running.

"Was it them?"

Medvedeva thought, a touch of anger in her voice.

Like most Adventurer Squads, the Night Owl Squad, through their longer‑term commissions, would directly or indirectly get to know many other Adventurer Squads because of the nature of the work.

Some of those parties exchanged goodwill; naturally, there were also teams whose relations had soured.

The Adventurer Squad Medvedeva referred to was a group they’d run into at the camp a few days ago, a squad composed entirely of Wanderers.

Back then Levin had bought an Ancient Map, a yellowed thing that looked quite old, from a stall. That squad seemed to have set their eyes on the same item, but they were just a step too late, so they tried to buy it off Levin.

Levin hadn’t thought much of it at first and quoted thirty percent above the stall’s original price.

Unfortunately, that group wanted to take it at the original price, unwilling to pay extra, so the deal fell through and both sides parted on bad terms.

The very next day, Levin discovered that the map in the inner pocket of his clothes was missing.

He gathered the team to discuss it, and they concluded that the disappearance of the Ancient Map had to be related to that Wanderer Squad.

After all, aside from them, no one else had been eyeing the map, and they certainly had the skills for it—stealing was something Wanderers excelled at.

When they went looking around camp, they found that the group had already hurriedly left.

Recently, the Night Owl Squad had only clashed with that one Adventurer Squad, so Medvedeva naturally set her sights on them.

"Just run!" Levin panted, breath ragged.

He was the one lugging a shield, the most exhausted when running.

"Why are these Beastmen so fixated on us, like they’ve gone mad?" The female Warrior, Sasha, was utterly puzzled.

Logically speaking, they hadn’t attacked the Beastmen first, and they were already outside the boundaries of the wetlands. This kind of Beastman Race, aside from routine hunting and raiding, rarely left their habitat.

Yet from the moment this group of Beastmen encountered them, it was like their parents had been slaughtered—they kept clinging to them without letting up.

Even though the five‑man squad had tried to retreat as fast as they could, two legs could never outrun four.

Once the Beastmen on mounts in the rear closed in, the group was quickly overtaken.

"Take down the ones with mounts first! Kill while we run! Don’t stop!"

With no other choice, Levin could only organize a fighting retreat.

The Archer Oliver and Wanderer Medvedeva kept loosing arrows, thinning out the Marsh Beastmen relentlessly pursuing from behind.

The Shield Master Levin and Warrior Sasha dealt with any enemies that closed to melee range.

The Priest Elvin periodically swung his Wooden Staff, releasing healing Magic to quickly mend any injuries the others suffered in battle.

In this running fight, Medvedeva and the others helplessly realized that they were like people sinking into a mire—their retreat only grew slower and slower.

And in the distance, the flickering shadows of figures only increased.

They couldn’t kill them all—there was no way!

"Medvedeva, take the others and go ahead. I’ll stay and deal with the mounted ones, then catch up with you later." Levin decapitated a Marsh Beastman with a swing of his Short Sword, then bellowed.

"Don’t be stupid. If we’re retreating, we retreat together." Medvedeva knew full well that he meant to sacrifice himself to save the rest. She fired a Crossbow Arrow that punched through the throat of a Beastman lunging from the side, its blood splattering across her Leather Armor.

But in this situation, would his staying behind really ease their burden?

With so many monsters surging toward them, standing firm was nothing short of suicide.

And Medvedeva and the others wouldn’t be much better off.

Just as the Night Owl Squad were fighting blood‑soaked for their lives, a voice both familiar and unfamiliar suddenly rang in their ears, as clear as if the speaker stood right beside them.

"It seems you’re in need of some help, Levin, Oliver, Medvedeva."

"???"

"Who is it?"

No one answered them.

Before them, a sapphire‑blue glow suddenly flared to life.

"Boom!"

The glowing sphere tore through the air, like a cannon shell homing in with uncanny Precision, and buried itself in the Beastmen ranks behind them.

A powerful surge of Magic ripped through Beastmen flesh and skin in an instant, gouging a crater into the earth like a shell impact.

And that was only the beginning.

The second, the third, the fourth...

A storm of Magic Missiles curved as if they had eyes, all arcing down into the Beastmen crowd.

Amid the explosions, the Marsh Beastmen died swiftly, their howls of agony echoing.

Too many!

There were so many Magic Missiles that they couldn’t possibly count them with the naked eye. The intense glare made it impossible for Levin to see ahead; he instinctively wanted to shield his eyes as the rushing air from the screaming Missiles lashed his cheeks raw.

Fortunately, his Professional training let him suppress his animal instincts. He squinted slightly and, together with the equally bewildered Medvedeva, watched warily in the direction the Missiles were coming from.

There, amid a skyful of glow like a flickering starfield, a blurred figure slowly stepped out.

Levin (Shield Master), Medvedeva (Wanderer), Oliver (Ranger), Sasha (Warrior), Elvin (Priest)