Supreme Hunter of Beautiful Souls

The putrid stench of rotting flesh mingled with the damp smell of the forest. The leaves rustled in the heavy wind, but it wasn't the usual night breeze that made the branches creak—it was the weight of hundreds of bodies advancing through the darkness. Goblins.

Kael stopped in the middle of the trail, his golden sword resting on his shoulder. His eyes burned like two contained suns, reflecting what little moonlight managed to penetrate the dense canopy. The mission was clear as cold steel: exterminate the horde before it reached the human villages. And in the heart of the slaughter, somewhere ahead, the true target waited—the Goblin Lord.

A snap of a twig broke the silence.

Another.

Dozens.

The forest came alive with shrill screams, guttural howls, and the uneven sound of bare feet crunching in the mud. Kael closed his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and let his golden aura explode, enveloping him like a living flame illuminating the night.

"Come," he murmured, raising his blade.

The first wave appeared: twenty goblins burst from the shadows, makeshift spears in hand, their yellow eyes gleaming with hunger and savagery.

Kael spun. The blade drew an arc of light, and the air vibrated with golden sparks. Five goblins were cut in half at once, their bodies falling to pieces in a scarlet spray that painted the trees. He didn't stop. He advanced.

A spear thrust came from the side. Kael tilted his head, letting the tip pass inches from his face, before retaliating with a vertical slash that split the attacker from shoulder to waist. Another enemy plummeted from a branch, dagger in hand, a scream in his throat. Kael raised his arm, grabbed him by the neck while he was still in midair, and smashed him to the ground. The dry crack of the skull cracking echoed like muffled thunder.

The ground was already slick with blood when the second wave burst from the woods. Fifty, maybe more. The forest reverberated with hysterical screams as the mob ran like maddened animals.

Kael advanced without retreating, a living wall against the tide. His sword was an extension of his muscles, his blows sure and cruel. With each impact, the golden aura exploded in waves, turning slashes into thunder.

Two goblins tried to coordinate: one aiming for the legs, the other for the neck. Kael swung the blade, blocking both in the same movement, and, in a burst of superhuman speed, decapitated them both. Four more leaped at him, trying to trip him up with their weight.

Kael thrust his sword into the ground. His eyes glowed gold as he raised his hands. A burst of energy pulsed from his body, and the devastating wave hurled the four enemies into nearby trees. Trunks split with the impact, and bodies twisted with broken bones.

The forest air shook. The roar of the horde seemed to echo from all around, as if the shadows themselves had joined the clamor of carnage.

Kael breathed deeply, steady, his golden eyes fixed on the darkness. His chest heaved in a controlled manner, the aura around him wavering like flames. He knew this was only the beginning.

"Let's see how far they can go," he murmured, raising his blood-stained sword.

The third wave didn't appear in disorderly chaos. One hundred goblins advanced together, forming a dense tide of fetid flesh and rusted metal. Their shouts echoed like tribal drums, the earth vibrating under the weight of the horde. In the branches above, dozens of archers lined the trees, their yellow eyes glowing, their bowstrings taut, ready to transform the night into a storm of death.

Kael arched his brow, as if finally seeing something worth the slightest effort.

"At last..." he murmured, raising his golden sword.

A sharp whizz cut through the air. Then another. Then hundreds. The rain of arrows descended in a black swarm, obscuring even the moonlight.

Kael twisted and raised his blade. His aura exploded in waves, expanding until it formed a golden dome around him. The arrows struck the gleaming field with metallic clangs, ricocheting in all directions as if they had struck steel walls. None even grazed his skin.

When the last shard fell to the ground, Kael was no longer standing still.

He fired, a golden flash piercing the night. His sword swept through the front line of the horde like a cruel scythe through a wheat field. Bones shattered, heads flew in grotesque arcs, torsos were split in two. Blood sprayed in torrents, staining the ground and even the surrounding foliage.

The roar of pain and terror from the front line echoed through the forest.

A colossal goblin, taller and broader than the others, roared, brandishing a crude stone club. The blow descended with the force of a falling rock. Kael intercepted the thrust with his blade. The impact reverberated like thunder, cracking the ground at his feet.

But the resistance lasted less than a breath. The golden sword slid through the creature's body, splitting flesh, muscle, and bone as if they were mere shadows. The giant fell in grotesque pieces, still roaring even without lungs to sustain the sound.

A smaller, agile goblin took advantage of the opening and plunged a dagger into the side of Kael's armor. The blade penetrated, but the young man didn't even flinch. He simply reared back his elbow with brutal force. The blow crushed the enemy's skull against his teeth, turning his head into a bloody pulp.

Before the inert body could fall, Kael swung his fist. The sword drew a circle of light, decapitating three goblins at once, their bodies still running two steps before collapsing to the ground.

The massacre continued at a relentless pace.

Kael's every blow was a thunderclap. Every step, a death sentence. His golden aura transformed him into a divine specter, walking among deformed mortals.

The shrill screams of the horde mingled with the sound of the blade piercing flesh and bone, the crackle of bodies breaking, the hiss of blood vaporizing as it touched the burning energy around him.

Kael was already covered in red up to his elbows. Blood streamed down his face, dripped from his sword, and spattered with each swing. Yet his eyes remained cold, fixed, his breathing rhythmic as if he were merely training, testing his own limits.

But the horde did not stop. Even with dozens, perhaps hundreds, already fallen, more goblins emerged from the shadows of the forest. The archers shouted guttural orders and loosed more arrows, trying to clear space for the soldiers to advance.

Kael raised his left hand, and an arc of golden energy sliced through the air. The shot disintegrated the arrows before they even reached them, burning them in flight. Then he launched himself at the archers.

He leaped from trunk to trunk as if gravity had no power over him. With each branch he reached, a goblin archer was cleaved in half before he realized what was happening. Moonlight reflected off the sword's trail, transforming the massacre into a golden and scarlet storm.

When Kael returned to the ground, more than thirty headless bodies tumbled from the branches at once, raining blood down upon the clearing.

And still... the horde roared.

Still... they came.

Kael took a deep breath, twirling the blade to wipe away some of the blood. His chest rose and fell in absolute calm.

"Keep going," he murmured, his voice echoing across the blood-soaked field. "I'm not finished yet."

The ground was already strewn with bodies. Perhaps a hundred and fifty had already fallen, but the forest continued to teeme with creatures. Roars echoed deeper, indicating that the entire horde was already on the move.

Kael paused for a moment, resting his sword on his shoulder. Sweat beaded on his forehead, but the golden glow around his body didn't waver.

"Three hundred..." he murmured. "Fine. I'll finish you all."

And then he ran.

He charged through the forest like lightning, his blade tracing lines of death wherever he went. Each step shattered the ground, each blow opened a space amid the tide of bodies. Goblins tried to surround him, to throw themselves at him, but were cut down before they even touched his skin.

The ground shook. The echo of his footsteps and the roar of his aura mingled with the shrill screams of the horde. The massacre had become a spectacle.

A group of goblin shamans appeared in the distance, chanting guttural chants. Green fire began to form in their hands, flaming spheres hurling toward them.

Kael didn't dodge. He charged straight into the fire, and his golden aura exploded, dissipating the flames before they could reach him. Leaping, he landed among the shamans and destroyed them with a single circular strike, slicing seven at once.

"Weaklings," he growled.

With each step, the slaughter intensified. Goblins climbed the trees to try to launch themselves from above, only to be cut down in midair. Spears were broken, daggers fell to the ground without even scratching their skin. He was a living, breathing storm, unstoppable.

Before he realized it, he had advanced hundreds of meters into the forest.

The sound changed. Now it wasn't just the chaotic roar of the horde—it was something deeper, more rhythmic. Drums.

Kael took a deep breath, wiping the blood from his sword into the air. The sound of the drums echoed like a war call, more organized, more menacing.

He knew what this meant.

The goblin village was near.