Chapter 112: Bowmaster

Even the air blew as if it was on the outside. Spells. Was all Ned could think of. Ned felt the ambiance like that of a forest. The leaves swayed left and right, river run, making a plop-plop sound as it hit a rock dividing the river in two. Grasses scratched their knees as if they were warning Ned of the incoming danger. The made-up forest should have been a teeming of green, or brown. But, it was lit dimming orange from the pillars standing at every edge of the stone arena.

Unlike the struggling Kwan, Ned could see the creatures creeping toward them. It wasn't just the creatures, with his feline-like eyes, Ned could spot a gleaming pale-blue stone up at the cracks and branches of a tree. Not all, but with a steady focus, one could see the stones dimming blue.

And to highlight Ned's thought, the purple cloth announcer cried. Standing below the hollow rock, where Ned saw a figure moving before the arena shifted. "There is no time limit," he cried and waved his hand as if embracing someone. "This time, your targets will be an exact number of a hundred swamp-goblins! Bows, crossbows, it doesn't matter! But, No spells allowed. And, killing other participants are forbidden! The level will end when all targets are dead! And the highest participant with the most kill will proceed to the next level. And, remember, the trees can see you!"

Swamp-goblins. A variety of goblin that evolved to adopt the wet and muddy surroundings of the Bogblot regions. The only difference with the goblins Ned encountered inside the old mines of Hoglob was the thick fur growing behind their backs.

Twenty-four participants would share a hundred targets. Share was a nice word. Grab, snatch, and the fight was the word.

The participants stood at the edges of the arena. The hunter Liv was surprised a horde of the muddy-green beast was used for the arena.

Grade Es were harmless for hunters with enough experience. But, they weren't stupid to think that Grade Es could annihilate a party of rookie hunters. One or two or three weren't dangerous for a party. But make it a hundred of hungry Grade E, even higher ranked hunters would hesitate to battle them.

The announcer said: "Killing other participants are forbidden." But, dying due to an accident wasn't mentioned. "They will die because they're weak," muttered Liv. Looking at his butt lying spotter. With his crafted bow, he shot the swamp-goblin that tried to rush them. Eyeball thwack out its green sunken eye.  Green blood flowed, the goblin thudded on the ground.

A dozen of the goblins revealed themselves, behind trees, behind rocks.

Liv threw a taunting smile. "Follow me!" He cried. Going to the direction where Ned and Kwan was. His spotter stumbled following him.

Turning off his red chromatic battle display, Ned relied solely on his instincts and experience. He wanted to challenge Swift with his skills.

"Leave the Claim," Ned said. Recurve bow on his left, thrill on his right. And Kwan behind him. "How good are you with the blade?" Pertaining at the dagger strapped at the back of Kwan's waist.

Kwan did what he was told. Oculus was good at distant targets, but using it in the forest against hiding beast was pointless. He clipped the cylindrical glass on his belt and grabbed the dusky brown dagger. His hands jerked. He was a porter, he knew what it was to be attacked with a beast, surrounded maybe. And if only he could avoid being a porter, he would. But, life told him he can't. He gripped the dagger, bent, and waited for Ned.

Ned was steady. Like a feral beast, his dominant hand moved as if a target has been marked. Slowly, steadily, and patiently, he pulled an arrow out his quiver. Orange light reflected on the iron tip. He nocked, pulled the string, breathed, and released.

In the distance, Kwan saw nothing but a maze of trees; shrouded with darkness, and a crowd of silent grass waving back and forth. A thud broke the silence, a silence only Kwan could hear. Swamp-goblin slid behind the tree, an arrow stuck between its neck, overflowing with green sticky liquid. "That's one," Ned muttered.

Before Kwan could ease off, Ned nocked another arrow and wished he was like him. Torso straighten up and not bending left or right, collar parallel to the arrow, and hips not bending forward or backward. Seeing Ned's posture, Kwan knew, that Ned will hit another target.

Another goblin slumped not far from the first one, also hiding behind the tree. They wore nothing except the crude clubs they were holding.

"We should move," Ned said, looking behind his shoulder. They should, behind them was the barrier. Ned presumed, even if he uses all his strength, he might not destroy, or scratch the barrier. The only way was to finish the game.

The participants dispersed, some were eager as one of the participants ran wildly going to the center of the arena, not knowing a group of goblins were waiting, hiding, for their prey.

And some were anxious, these were the ones who passed the level five for the first time, due to their skills, or a load of luck. They moved with stiffened legs, yet, careful.

"Kwan," Ned said. "Grab the arrows, I'll handle the targets."

Kwan pulled the two arrow out of the dead goblins, and hold it for a moment as he saw Ned crossing a path filled with green to orange grasses. Surrounded by fat trees. Kwan followed and stopped seeing Ned holding his position.

Bushes, grasses, and trees surrounded Ned. But not for long.

Leaves rustled to Ned's right. Ned pulled an arrow from his quiver. A goblin with a spiked wooden-club came into view. And the sunken eye goblin dashed to Ned, leaving the thick bush—his former cover.

Ned aimed and shot the goblin. Piercing it through its eyes. The distance was too close, the iron-tipped arrow entered its eye, then mutilated a white-sticky lump of meat, and exited the back of its head.

The goblin fell on its knees, followed by his body, then head—pushing further the sunken arrow, green mucus liquid exited its wound. "Two," Ned said, fixing another arrow into the recurve bow's string. A habit a hunter or rouge should adopt.

Aim, shoot, fix another arrow, then aim. His habit saved Ned countless of times whenever he uses a bow. Since the arrow was ready, Ned pivoted, hearing a stick snapped far from his left.

Two goblins rushed, wildly swinging their clubs. Alone, they weren't much of a threat. But, give them a number and a spiked club, this kill-all-human-in-sight humanoids will be happy to oblige.

Ned released the fixed arrow, air whistled, and the mentally ill goblin dropped like a sack of wet rice. It rolled once and stopped lifeless as its tongue was sticking out.

The trailing goblin skipped its dead kin, might be his friend, or cousin, or his partner since its eyes were full of rage seeing the dead goblin on the ground. It howled: "wooka zoo ahh la!" And sped toward the culprit.

"Wooka zoo ahh la this," Ned said. Shooting the goblin with an already fixed arrow.

Most beasts were intellectual, some were born with nothing but a head full of air, and some became smart of doing things over and over again until the tasked was fixed into their minds. Just like the rushing goblin, his mind was filled with nothing fancy but struggle. The goblin struggled every day, that it became accustomed, and learned how to defend itself.

The goblin raised its club across its head. Blocking the fleeting arrow midair. The arrow hit the club with a clinking sound. The goblin smirked.

Chance Arrow game, a game made solely for bow lovers. As long as participants use a bow, crossbows, and weapons that handle an arrow, they are welcomed to join the game. Seeing that the goblin was approaching, Ned couldn't use any weapons aside from the recurve bow he was holding.

The goblin wasn't fast, but not slow either. A split-second decision precedes on Ned's thoughts. Instead of fixing an arrow, Ned dashed toward the goblin, approaching it head-on.

As Ned dashed, he pulled an arrow. Rotating between his fingers and stopped only when the tip was pointing downwards, and the feathered end upwards.

The goblin raised its club at an awkward angle. With its force, the goblin waved the club at the incoming Ned.

Ned predicted the goblins move. Goblins usually don't exceed a five-feet height, but their bodies, with enough meat, especially human meat, their bodies could go almost a meter wide. Making them big with wide shoulders. And also making them slow.

Ned bend, evading the swooshing club passing his head. Ned doesn't need his Emulator to predict that goblin's weaknesses were their soft eyes, joints, and a cavity between their collar bones, and shoulders. He spun, and inserted the arrow between the goblin's collar and shoulder, pushing it almost at the middle, precisely aiming into its heart.

The goblin stumbled, blinking its round eyes, and fell on its butt. It jerked, used the club as a crutch, and stood. It knew it was dying and thinking maybe killing a human before it dies will honor its clan. Green liquid seeped out its wound, and rushed—

Arrow drilled its eyesocket and fell lifeless.

Kwan's mouth was wide open, forgetting his only job, collecting the arrows off the dead goblins. In his mind, he saw Ned as a real bow master. Bow masters must not rely on their bow alone, situations will arise that an archer must use melee combat. And Ned did all this. From the bow to melee. Kwan assumed, he could switch whenever he liked. Kwan shook his head with astonishment.

After Kwan pulled the arrows, he walked beside Ned. Hand stretched on a tree, and looking for a new target.

Five minutes after the game started, Ned relaxed near a tree. With the blow of the wind coming their way. Ned smells a stinking wind—old man's pee stinking air, breezing their spot. Ned fixed an arrow. "Ready your dagger," Ned said behind his shoulder, looking at Kwan. "The real game is about to start."