Sometimes it's better to bite your tongue

The shockwave caused by the spell knocked Rascal back several meters.

" Uhg... " The goblin let out a horrible groan. Suddenly, a modest lake of blood appeared in his mouth, cleverly making its way outward.

Cough Cough

Fortunately, the scarlet liquid found an outlet through a hole in his cheek. Otherwise, he would have choked on his blood.

Rascal was shaking with cold chills. He managed to kill one of The Night Terrors but didn't come out of it unscathed.

The operation of Ramiel's runes is quite simple. They convert supplied kinetic energy into mana infused with the ice element produced by the Lilies of the Ice Touch. This is why the crystals are sky-blue instead of snow-white.

Returning, when the accumulated mana reaches its maximum, it is released in the form of a gust of wind that transforms everything in its path into ice. Ramiel wanted to achieve something like a winter breeze that would break through the electron shell, reach the protons and neutrons, and freeze them at the molecular level.

Unfortunately, he had neither the right materials nor the right tools for the job. For the time being, he had to settle for what he had, which required considerable tweaking.

First and foremost, the protection of the swordsman. Ramiel had forgotten the insignificant fact of his safety. Sometimes, he fires up his mad scientist mode with only one goal: to achieve the greatest possible destruction.

Today, Rascal saw for himself the other side of his Master.

Although he could see his hand clenched on the sword's hilt, he couldn't feel his fingers. He could move them, but simultaneously, he had a strange feeling as if they weren't his.

Looking closely at them, he could see how they were gradually covered with a bluish color, and plasma was collecting under the skin's surface, forming hideous blisters. Rascal didn't know it, but he had frostbitten his fingers, and all the way to the third degree.

His only hope for the moment was to pray that Felix would survive the whole mess. Only a skeleton could cure the frostbite or regenerate the lost limbs.

On the plus side, the bleeding from the severed stump stopped. Rascal moved it, laughing under his breath through his tears. He cried in pain and laughed at the frozen and jagged pieces of flesh that stood twisted into bizarre shapes.

Goblin never thought he would laugh at his injuries. Life can surprise.

At least his tiny friend remained unharmed, which was already a great success. Men will surely understand the goblin's happiness.

Rascal tried to get up and finish what he started but quickly gave up. Dizziness combined with a wobbly image in front of his eyes isn't the best combination for a fight.

He decided to lie down, hoping he didn't die hit by some random spell fragment or bleed to death. It was the best he could do. Sometimes, no reaction is the best reaction.

" The rest is up to you. "The loud din of the ongoing battle devoured Rascal's quiet sigh...

A fleeting breeze swept across the battlefield, drawing attention to the sky-blue ice sculptures. An unknown factor in the middle of the raging chaos caused quite a stir. Immediately, everyone's gaze shifted to the barely alive goblin lying a few meters away.

The leader of the Night Terrors snorted, returning to his business. A creature balancing on a knife's edge isn't worth getting its hands dirty.

A resigned Seraphine shook her head. For a brief moment, she hoped that Ramiel would finally move his fat ass and come to help her, but life isn't so beautiful that a fleeting dream turns into reality.

" At least it's no enemy... " is a poor consolation in the current situation...

For a brief moment, Rascal turned green with fear, feeling the bloodthirsty gazes on him.

No one can imagine how happy he was when the eyes of the surrounding creatures turned away from him. The pressure they exerted was suffocating.

Rascal didn't rejoice for long.

Boom

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a chunk of rock fly into the air with a bang, destroying the rock prison from the inside.

When the dust settled, the burnt monster, whose charred skin was coming off alive, showed its face to the world. The stench of burning flesh wafted around it, and faint puffs of steam gleefully popped from bursting bubbles.

The only remnant of the two twins, she fixed a bloodthirsty gaze on the still-warm goblin. Treacherous flames of vengeance blazed in her eyes, blotting out any vestige of common sense.

Rascal's throat became dry. Quenching his thirst wasn't even helped by the copious amounts of blood flooding his mouth, like water that broke the dam...

He just realized how screwed he was. He had forgotten to death about a small problem that had escalated to the size of a fucking moon.

This is what happens when we sweep current problems under the rug. Sooner or later, they will come to bite us with redoubled force.

" Fuck my life... " Rascal didn't even try to defend himself. He knew there was absolutely no point in doing so. He is unable to stand, so what miracle is there to survive a clash with a ferocious beast whose sole purpose is to tear him apart? The answer is simple, such a miracle doesn't exist.

Like a flash of lightning, The Night Terror shot out from where he was standing. It traversed the icy wilderness, paying no attention to its surrounding environment. Its tails shot through the air, destroying obstacles standing in its way. One of them was her other half, with whom she had spent her entire life. Under the impact of the crushing blow, the ice sculpture turned into tiny snowflakes, shimmering with a thousand colors. 

The monster left trailing streaks of gray shadows behind it. They covered the burned tissue, protecting them from further injury.

Blinded by unbridled fury, The Night Terror jumped high into the air. Razor-sharp claws slid out from within springy paws, shimmering subtly in the air.

Its tails grew teeny, and its tips aimed at the goblin's exposed neck. The cloak swung wide, showing rows of teeth surrounded by rotten meat.

Rascal lay as if he had been struck. Partly, he was paralyzed by the stench emanating from the monster's mouth, but mostly, it was the cumulative killing intent. The force with which it affected him could be compared to the water pressure at the bottom of the sea.

In his final moments, he felt his bones crackle, and the muscles surrounding them snap as a tow rope stretched to the limit.

" Tsk... acutely, I have to die in front of a bunch of imbeciles. " Rascal subtly taunted his subordinates. "

Let's not kid ourselves, unlike him, they were a bit dimwitted. Don't get him wrong, they are great fighters, but in everyday life... ehh... it's better to keep it quiet.

The image of the approaching monster grew larger and larger in Rascal's cloudy eyes. He had already accepted his fate, wondering about the future name Seraphine would give him. He had a strange feeling that it wouldn't be anything pleasant.

How about a burqa? He often calls me Faithful dog Ramiel... - a heavy sigh echoed in the goblin's mind - maybe it won't be so bad... Tsk... who am I kidding... Fuck life.

Boom!

" Hmmm? I am… alive? " Rascal's mind flipped. He was saved from becoming flesh mush by tree roots that grew between the cracked earth.

The Fear of Night was furious. Just as he was about to give vent to the roiling emotions inside his heart, an obstacle as hard as iron stood in his way.

Pieces of wood flew through the air, bending under the pressure of the blows bombarding them. Roots crackled, trying to hold back the raging storm.

In a fit of rage, the monster didn't notice the gray vines creeping toward him, growing from behind his back. They subtly wrapped themselves around his limbs, climbing upwards like a snake climbing a tree trunk.

They completed their journey around his neck.

" Crush "

A stone fell from Rascal's heart as he heard a low, throaty sound, more like the growl of an engine than a human voice.

The gray vines immediately tightened, deforming the irritated monster's body. Its bones cracked, resisting the brute force, and its muscles howled under the crushing advantage.

The Night Terror thrashed about like a caged lion. Each passing second heightened the anger growing in his heart.

He was so close yet far from experiencing the blissful peace of sweet revenge. All he had to do was get rid of the annoying plants restraining his movements...

It seemed simple...right? I assure you, it wasn't. Instead of one broken vine, two more appeared. This process looped back and forth. And it would continue until the caster ran out of mana.

Worst of all, small clouds of black smoke penetrated through the pores into a living creature's body. They would spirally wrap around the bones, wrapping them like a warm quilt on a winter night.

Unfortunately, the black gas had little in common with the beloved quilt. It was closer to a trickster who pulled the wool over your eyes with the promise of a bright future.

As you might guess, this was no ordinary smoke. With the right concentration of mana, it transformed into a weaker version of vines that wreaked havoc from within.

This is one of the most brutal spells available to the goblins in the Legion of Death. Ramiel summed it up briefly - " It is brilliant in its simplicity. If I understood the element of nature, I would consider using it.

Slam

Slam

Crackle

The Night Terror couldn't make the slightest squeak. The vines increased the pressure and broke him in half. It was too late when his mind registered what had happened. The monster's body was folded like an accordion.

It in no way resembled its former appearance. From every possible nook and cranny, broken bones protruded from which pieces of jagged flesh dangled freely. Twisted limbs were gutted outward. Twisted muscles and veins swapped places with skin. What used to be called eyeballs had turned into a bloody mush mixed with fresh splinters.

Everything was made all the more charming by the young sprouts that sprouted from inside the stomach. It was charming in its way. It was enough to make one squint at the fresh blood dripping small and sweet leaves.

Rascal felt sick to his stomach. He was used to Dantean scenes, but the magic of his subordinate always sent unpleasant shivers down his spine.

Sometimes, he wondered what was worse. To step on Ramiel's toes or to fall prey to the dark creepers.

The Night Terror had a quick end anyway. He should be thankful for the unique circumstances. Usually, victims who fell into the trap of the number one goblin died in inhuman agony for hours.

When the target was immobilized, the shoots slowly penetrated the insides, severing individual muscle and nerve fibers.

In a way, this qualified as torture... a very cruel and painful torture... The victims often died before Rascal's subordinate fulfilled most of his sick desires.

The goblin's earthen side cracked. A cocoon sprouted from it, created from intricately intertwined tree branches. The frail sticks moved dynamically with a squeak, forming something like a hole in the tree.

From the resulting hole emerged the figure of goblin number 1.

Unlike Rascal, his robe was whole, and most importantly, all four limbs were in place. Not counting a shallow cut on his right calf, everything was in the best possible order. To say more, a pristine trophy hung from his side on a wooden hook. The head of The Night Terror, preserved in perfect condition, testified to the crushing victory he had won.

" This imbecile came to save the tribe chief, who ate all his wits. "

Goblin couldn't help himself from riding wildly on Rascal. This is a rare occasion when he can do what he feels like. He will worry about the future consequences later if any come. Despite being in good shape, his survival was in question.

Rascal kept his mouth shut. In response, he only cast a threatening glance. He had to conserve as much strength as possible. After all, there was no telling what might happen in five minutes.

" Help - Help Seraphine. "

Cough

Rascal's blood came out through his nose. He gave up further attempts at communication.

Goblin No. 1 looked at him as if he were an idiot. His eyes were filled with open regret and disappointment. He felt like a corporate employee who had to meet impossible deadlines.

" Really, I hate you... I used up my last supply of mana to save your shackled head, and you returned the favor by sending me into the lion's mouth. Explain to me how the hell I am supposed to fight this thing without mana ?!!! I'm listening, waiting for your ideas! "

Blood boiled in the veins of Goblin No. 1. Deep down, he hoped to escape with Caera, taking advantage of Seraphine's distraction. However, Rascal's order spoiled everything.

He is the leader of the Shadow Goblins. Their blood doesn't allow opposition to his words. The dream of a peaceful and long future lay in ruins, even faster than it appeared.

" Fine... I'll do it... "

Goblin gave up before the suffocating pressure crushed his humble soul.

" One more thing, see who I found hiding under a pile of bodies. "

A bony hand clamped down on the edge of the opening, behind which appeared the figure of a familiar skeleton. Rascal was so happy to see Felix that he almost burst into tears.

His pitiful prayers were finally answered by the great mother Nenneke, who took pity on her child's pathetic whimpering.

" Take care of him, but don't overdo it. Remember that Asme may also need help... And I... and I will try to finish better than my powerful and respected chief. At least I'll try to save one of my hands. "