Realm Lord
Chapter 147: Into Action

Chapter 147: Into Action

Arthur jolted into action, he sprinted toward the goblins with deadly intent, his soul sword materializing in his hand as he closed the distance. The first goblin never even saw him coming—Arthur’s blade sliced clean through its torso in a single, fluid motion, the creature’s body collapsing in two pieces before it had a chance to react.

The metallic scent of goblin blood filled the air as Arthur immediately pivoted toward his next target. This goblin was slightly larger than the first, its gnarled hands clutching a rusty dagger that gleamed with a sickly patina. The creature’s yellow eyes widened in recognition of the threat, but its reaction was too slow and too panicked to be effective.

The goblin swung wildly at Arthur, its movements frantic and uncoordinated. Arthur stepped back strategically, his body flowing like water as he dodged the desperate swing. The rusty blade passed harmlessly through the air where he had been standing just moments before. Without missing a beat, Arthur stepped back in and drove his soul sword forward, the blade finding its mark as it impaled the goblin through the chest.

The creature’s dying shriek echoed off the crumbling walls, but Arthur was already moving. The third goblin, either braver or more desperate than its companions, did not give Arthur even a second to recover. It launched itself through the air with surprising agility, its razor-sharp claws extended and aimed directly at Arthur’s throat.

Arthur knew he wouldn’t be able to pull his sword free from the second goblin’s corpse and counter the attack in time. Instead, he made a split-second decision. He allowed his soul sword to dissipate, the weapon vanishing into motes of shadow energy.

Spinning toward the airborne goblin, Arthur lifted his forearm to intercept the creature’s claws. As he moved, he coated his entire arm in his shadow armor. The dark energy wrapped around his limb like a second skin, creating an barrier that gleamed with an otherworldly sheen.

The goblin’s claws struck Arthur’s protected forearm with a sound like metal scraping against stone. Sparks flew as the creature’s natural weapons scraped harmlessly against the shadow armor, unable to penetrate the supernatural defense. The goblin’s eyes widened in shock and confusion.

Arthur seized the moment of the creature’s confusion. Stepping in close, he extended his hand toward the goblin’s face, his entire palm and fingers now covered in the shadow that had protected his arm. The shadow armor around his hand pulsed with malevolent power, responding to his intent with eager anticipation.

Arthur’s fingers closed around the goblin’s skull with implacable force. The creature scratched and clawed fruitlessly at his shadow-armored hand, its efforts as futile as trying to scratch through solid steel. Arthur’s grip slowly tightened, the pressure building slowly.

The goblin’s struggles grew more desperate as Arthur’s hold became inescapable. Its claws left no mark on the shadow armor, and its thrashing only served to exhaust what little strength it had left. Arthur’s face remained impassive, his eyes cold and focused as he applied more and more pressure.

The end came with a wet, sickening sound—pop—as the goblin’s skull finally gave way under the relentless pressure. Arthur’s grip closed completely, and the creature’s head exploded in a shower of blood and brain matter. The goblin’s body went limp instantly, falling lifeless to the ground in a crumpled heap.

Arthur stood there for a moment, staring at his blood and brain-covered hand with a mixture of satisfaction and slight disgust. The shadow armor had protected him from the worst of the gore, but crimson droplets still clung to the dark energy coating his skin. He shook his head, dismissing both the armor and his momentary revulsion, before turning his attention to the real reason he had intervened.

The boy still stood pressed against the wall, his entire body trembling like a leaf in a hurricane. His sword remained raised in front of him, though his grip was so unsteady that the blade wavered constantly. Tears continued to stream down his face, and his breathing came in short, panicked gasps.

"You okay?" Arthur asked, his voice steady and stern despite the violence that had just transpired. The contrast between his calm demeanor and the carnage surrounding them was stark.

Instead of responding immediately, the boy simply stared at Arthur with wide, uncomprehending eyes. Then, as if his strings had been cut, he dropped his sword and collapsed to the floor, his back sliding down the wall until he was sitting in a heap. The steel blade clattered against the stone with a sound that seemed unnaturally loud in the sudden silence.

The boy stared past Arthur for several long moments, his gaze unfocused and distant as he desperately tried to catch his breath. His chest rose and fell in rapid, shallow movements, and Arthur recognized the signs of someone processing a traumatic encounter. Finally, the boy’s eyes focused on Arthur’s face, and when he spoke, his voice was thick with emotion.

"T-thank you... thank you, thank you!" The words tumbled out of him in a rush, accompanied by a fresh wave of tears. "I thought I was gonna die! I really thought... I thought they were going to kill me!"

Arthur sighed, the sound heavy with understanding. He walked over to where the boy sat against the wall, his movements slow and non-threatening. When he reached the trembling figure, Arthur extended his hand—the same hand that had just crushed a goblin’s skull, now clean of blood and shadow.

"Come on," Arthur said, his voice gentler now. "Let’s get back to the core."

The boy looked at Arthur’s outstretched hand for a long moment, hesitation warring with gratitude in his expression. Slowly, tentatively, he reached out and grasped Arthur’s hand, using it to pull himself to his feet. His legs were still shaky, but he managed to stand with Arthur’s support.

The journey back to the core city was relatively short, but it proved to be surprisingly enlightening. The boy, apparently needing to process what had just happened, began talking almost immediately. His words came in a steady stream, relatively unprompted, which surprised Arthur. He had expected sullen silence or perhaps continued tears, but instead found himself listening to what amounted to a life story.

The kid’s name was Josh, and he came from what he described as an extremely wealthy family. His parents had apparently spared no expense when his core began developing two months ago, outfitting him with the finest equipment money could buy. The steel sword, and his backpack had been filled with every conceivable essential a young Chosen might need on their first expedition.

As Josh continued his narrative, Arthur found himself thinking about the irony of the situation. Here was a boy who had every material advantage Arthur had never possessed—money, equipment, family support—and yet when it came to the moment of truth, when real danger had threatened, all of those advantages had proven meaningless.

"Sadly though," Josh said with a self-deprecating laugh that held no real humor, "money can’t buy courage. My parents did everything they could to prepare me, but they couldn’t buy me balls."

The crude honesty of the statement caught Arthur off guard, and he found himself almost smiling despite the circumstances. There was something refreshing about the boy’s willingness to admit his own shortcomings, especially after what had just happened.

After what felt like a short but meaningful journey, they finally made it back to the core city of Aragon. Arthur took a few minutes to show Josh around the essential areas. Throughout the brief tour, Josh listened intently, asking intelligent questions that suggested he was taking his near-death experience as a learning opportunity rather than a reason to give up entirely.

Finally, they reached the central core itself. It was here, as they stood before the monolith, that Josh said something to Arthur that would very well change the trajectory of his entire life.

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