25 Is a Foe Indeed

Raphael looked at the three combatants, quickly inspecting the two goblins, before moving onto the unknown player.

[Goblin Fighter]

(Monster)

Level 2

HP 57/115

[Goblin Archer]

(Monster)

Level 1

HP 81/85

The human was dressed in a leather armor, which had a chest plate and other miscellaneous pieces of armor strapped here and there. He was average in height, not much taller than 1 meter and 75 centimeters, with short-cut hair that might have been black, before it was stained with dust and blood. If Raphael had to take a wild guess, he would say that this was a Berserker, based on the armor and the fact that he was holding a shortsword in one hand and a shield in the other.

The Berserker was in bad shape, cuts and abrasions clearly visible all over his body. Blood was spewing out of a fresh cut over one of his eyes. A few centimeters down and he would have lost an eye for the rest of the battle. There was even an arrow sticking out of his plate armor - whether it had reached its target was hard to guess, due to the sheer amount of blood

'How the hell is he even still alive? If he was a half-orc, I'd understand, but his health pool shouldn't be enough big enough to handle intelligent monsters yet.' Raphael pondered, as he moved a bit, trying to get a better position to view the battle.

The goblins, on the other hand, were in far better shape, albeit still injured. Their race was short, no taller than 1 meter and 15 centimeters, their thick green skin and slightly pointed ears a dead giveaway. Both goblins had flimsy armor adorned with teeth and pieces of bones from previous enemies, keepsakes which showcased their fighting abilities. One had a bow with stone arrows and stood to the side, while the other was in front, a cutlass and dagger as its weapons.

The archer goblin was barely injured, only a broken nose and dried blood signifying that the Berserker had made an attempt to get rid of it at one point. This had, evidently, not gone to plan. The fighter goblin was heavily injured, almost as much as the Berserker, with a deep gash in its left forearm still bleeding.

The difference was that the Berserker was clearly a human, whereas the goblins were, well, goblins. The former was famed for being intelligent and weaker than most other species, while the latter were famous for their nasty tactics, incredible regeneration and the outright ability to bloodlust their way through anything. There was an old saying - the only way you put a goblin down is by mounting its head on your wall.

Raphael crouched near one of the roadside trees, hiding in its shadow, as he unfastened his weapons and prepared for any eventuality. He had no idea how the fight was going to go, but if he could save a player and gain a helping hand for his quest, he would be all for it.

Alternatively, he could also finish whoever survived the ordeal and walk away with whatever drops or loot fell into his hands.

'Beggars can't be choosers, after all.' he thought, his lips curling up. Origo was a very hardcore game, so it was best to think ahead.

The saying 'hope for the best, prepare for the worst' was one of Raphael's favorite mottoes, although through the years he had added on another part. Hope for the best, prepare for the worst, and always be ready for whenever your creativity falls short of reality.

The battle was at a standstill, both melee fighters panting as they glared at each other. The archer had run out of stone arrows, the sad excuse of a quiver on its back entirely empty. It seemed that the arrow that had flown by Raphael had been its last attempt at a hit.

Semi-intelligent races like Goblins were still considered monsters and they were far less versatile than intelligent races. The Archer Goblin threw down its bow and joined its comrade, empty handed as it did not have any other weapons besides its claws and teeth.

The berserker eyeballed the newcomer, a frown on his face as he watched it shift to his side. He harrumphed and stepped forward, his left hand shielding his side as he made a move towards the level 2 goblin fighter.

His shortsword sliced out from the side, aiming at the goblin's upper torso, but it slid off the fighter's cutlass, sending it backwards a few steps. As the superior goblin fell down, the Berserker immediately turned towards the unarmed archer, lashing out with his shield towards its face.

The archer had obviously learned its lesson, making use of its diminutive stature as it ducked and jumped like a frog towards the human. It tackled the berserker, enveloping his legs and knocking him over.

The berserker fell hard, cursing all the way down, but in the last second he managed to land a strike. The shortsword delivered a glancing blow to the archer goblin's feeble neck, a jet of blue blood erupting outwards. The monster immediately let go of the human's legs, its tiny hands flowing towards its neck as it desperately tried to save its life. Regeneration or not, a severed artery was a severed artery.

Gurgles escaped the goblin's throat as it fought for its life. The human warrior kicked out, his foot hitting the archer's side and pushing it a meter away. Soon, it stopped struggling, its grip and natural regeneration unable to close the wound in time. With a final 'blurp', the monster quieted down and stopped moving.

Just as he was about to stand up, the Goblin Fighter's shadow blotted out the light above his head, its two blood-covered metal weapons shimmering, the sunlight reflecting off the small areas that were not stained.

"Oh, f**k me, not again." the Berserker complained, as he tried to raise his shield.

Everything seemed to turn slow, as the goblin swung its two weapons downwards. It was clear that the shield would not make it in time. As the cutlass was about to connect with the Berserker's forehead, it slid to the side, falling out of the goblin's hands.

The berserker blinked in confusion, as he realized his life had not ended. Looking up, he discovered the goblin was still there, but there was something odd about it.

A small rusty dagger was protruding from its neck, its whole body having gone limp. Its eyes were empty and devoid of life. Behind the short fighter, that the berserker had struggled with, stood Raphael. His gray hair was protruding out of his cloak's hood, his face shrouded in mystery.

The berserker breathed a sigh of relief and outright smiled, as he placed his elbows on the ground, angling to get up.

"Thank god, I almost thought I was a goner!" he said, breathing heavily. "I'm Dorian Antwerp, by the way, thanks for saving my life."

"Hello, Dorian Antwerp." Raphael answered, as he suddenly placed the dagger in his left arm at the berserker's throat. The goblin's blue blood dripped off it onto the other player's fair skin.

Dorian, who had not even managed to stand up, gulped as he found himself in another dangerous situation, his eyes glaring at the weapon in front of him.

"Now, Dorian Antwerp, name one reason why I shouldn't end the life I just saved."