SSS-RANK: The Time God-Chapter 37: The Hobgoblin Leader

Norman’s howl echoed through the ravine, then died into silence.

For three heartbeats, nothing happened.

Then the forest exploded with movement.

Goblins poured from three different cave entrances, screeching in rage. Not the disorganized mob they’d fought earlier, these moved with purpose, responding to some unheard command.

"Something’s wrong," Norman said, backing toward Robin’s position. "They’re too organized."

Robin saw it too. The goblins weren’t charging blindly. They were forming ranks, spreading out to flank. Tactical behavior that shouldn’t exist in F-rank creatures.

Then it emerged from the central cave.

The Hobgoblin was massive, easily seven feet tall, its body a wall of corded muscle beneath dark green skin. Crude plate armor covered its torso, pieced together from scavenged metal. In its hands, a stone club the size of a small tree.

[ANALYZING TARGET...]

[HOBGOBLIN WARCHIEF DETECTED]

[RANK: B+]

[THREAT LEVEL: EXTREME]

Robin’s blood went cold. B-rank. This wasn’t supposed to be here. Intelligence had said F and E-ranks only, possible D-rank leadership at worst.

This thing could slaughter an entire Academy team.

The Hobgoblin raised its club and roared. The sound was deafening, primal. Around it, the goblin horde responded with their own screeches, their movements becoming more coordinated.

It’s commanding them. A field general.

"Robin," Norman said, his voice tight. "We need to retreat. Now."

Robin’s mind raced. Retreat meant turning their backs on a force that could run them down.

The Hobgoblin was massive but its legs were thick with muscle, it could maintain pursuit for miles.

Fight meant facing a B-rank creature with standard equipment and no support.

Both options were terrible.

"The ravine," Robin said quickly. "We can limit how many engage us at once. Kill the small ones first, then....."

The Hobgoblin charged.

For something so massive, it moved with shocking speed. The ground shook with each footfall. Goblins scattered from its path as it thundered directly toward them.

"Move!" Robin dove left. Norman went right.

The stone club crashed down where they’d been standing, pulverizing rock into fragments. The impact crater was three feet wide.

Robin rolled to his feet, blade up. The goblins were closing in, emboldened by their leader’s presence. He counted quickly, at least thirty visible, more emerging from the caves.

We’re surrounded. No retreat path. This is bad.

Norman snarled, his eyes flashing pure gold now. The beast inside him was rising, responding to mortal danger. "I’ll take the big one. You handle the small ones."

"That’s suicide....."

But Norman was already moving, his enhanced speed carrying him toward the Hobgoblin in a blur of motion.

His blade struck the creature’s armor with a clang that rang through the forest.

The Hobgoblin barely flinched. It swung its club in a horizontal arc.

Norman ducked under it, impossibly fast, and struck again, this time targeting the knee joint where armor didn’t protect.

His blade bit deep. Black blood sprayed.

The Hobgoblin roared in pain and fury. Its massive hand shot out, trying to grab Norman.

Norman was already gone, circling, staying in motion. His enhanced agility was the only thing keeping him alive.

But he can’t kill it alone, Robin realized. And I can’t help him while dealing with thirty goblins.

The goblin horde rushed him.

Robin’s mind went cold. Pure tactical calculation. No fear, no hesitation. Just the mathematics of survival.

The ravine. Use it.

He sprinted for the narrow passage, letting the goblins chase. Their screeches filled the air, a cacophony of bloodlust.

Robin reached the ravine’s narrowest point and turned. Two goblins could fit side-by-side here, maximum. The others would have to wait their turn.

The first two came at him with crude weapons raised.

Robin’s blade took the left one through the eye socket.

[GOBLIN WARRIOR DEFEATED: +15 EXP]

He pivoted, using the falling corpse as a shield against the right one’s club. The impact jarred his arm but the dead goblin absorbed the blow.

Robin’s counter-strike opened the second goblin’s throat.

[GOBLIN WARRIOR DEFEATED: +15 EXP]

Two more pushed past their dying comrades. Robin gave ground, letting them enter the kill zone.

His sword work was perfect, minimal movements, maximum efficiency. Every strike targeted a vital point. Every parry redirected attacks into the ravine walls.

[GOBLIN SCOUT DEFEATED: +10 EXP]

[GOBLIN WARRIOR DEFEATED: +15 EXP]

Behind the press of bodies, he could hear the Hobgoblin’s roars and Norman’s snarls.

The battle was ongoing, but Robin couldn’t spare attention to see how his partner was faring.

Trust the training. Trust Norman’s speed.

Five more goblins died in the ravine. Six. Seven. Robin’s arms burned with exertion. Goblin blood made the rocks slippery, treacherous.

[GOBLIN WARRIOR DEFEATED: +15 EXP]

[GOBLIN SCOUT DEFEATED: +10 EXP]

Then something changed in the sounds behind him.

Norman’s snarl became a scream of pain.

Robin risked a glance back.

The Hobgoblin had caught Norman. One massive hand gripped Norman’s arm, holding him off the ground. The other hand balled into a fist the size of a boulder and drove into Norman’s ribs.

The impact was sickening. Norman’s scream cut off as the air was driven from his lungs.

The Hobgoblin raised its club, preparing to finish him.

No time to think. Only to act.

Robin abandoned his defensive position. He sprinted from the ravine, leaving the goblins behind. His enhanced agility carried him across the broken ground at maximum speed.

The Hobgoblin’s club began its descent toward Norman’s helpless form.

Robin’s mind processed angles, velocity, timing. He couldn’t block that strike, the mass and force would shatter any defense.

But he could disrupt it.

Robin’s blade drove into the Hobgoblin’s injured knee, the same spot Norman had wounded.

He put his full body weight behind the strike, driving the steel deep into damaged flesh and sinew.

The Hobgoblin’s bellow shook the trees. Its club strike went wide, smashing into the ground inches from Norman’s head.

The creature released Norman, turning its full attention to Robin.

Time seemed to slow.

Robin saw the massive hand coming for him. Saw the rage in the Hobgoblin’s eyes. Saw his death approaching.

Can’t dodge. Too close and too fast.

The hand closed around his torso, lifting him off his feet. The pressure was immense, ribs creaking, breath impossible.

[WARNING: SEVERE CRUSHING DAMAGE]

[HP: 54/74]

Pain exploded through Robin’s chest. His vision blurred. The Hobgoblin drew him close, its fetid breath washing over him.

It’s going to crush me. Going to snap my spine like a twig.

Robin’s hand still held his sword. With the last of his strength, he drove the blade upward into the soft flesh beneath the Hobgoblin’s jaw.

The creature jerked back, releasing him. Robin fell, hitting the ground hard. Agony lanced through his damaged ribs.

[HP: 48/74]

The Hobgoblin staggered, Robin’s sword still embedded in its throat. Black blood poured from the wound. It clawed at the blade, trying to remove it.

But the damage was done. The strike had severed something vital.

The massive creature swayed, took one step, then collapsed forward with earth-shaking impact.

[HOBGOBLIN WARCHIEF DEFEATED: +350 EXP]

[WARNING: HOST CRITICAL CONDITION]

[SEVERE INTERNAL INJURIES DETECTED]

Robin lay on his back, staring at the sky through the forest canopy. Every breath was agony. His ribs were definitely broken, possibly his sternum too.

The goblins. They’re still...

But the goblin horde had stopped. With their leader dead, something had broken in their coordination.

They milled about in confusion, then, as if responding to some primal instinct began to flee in all directions.

Norman crawled over, his face pale. Blood dripped from his mouth. "You... you crazy bastard..."

"Had to... save you..." Robin managed through the pain.

"We’re both... half dead..." Norman coughed, wincing. "But we... we killed it..."

Footsteps. Multiple sets. Running toward them.

Robin tried to sit up, failed. His broken ribs screamed protest.

A team burst into the clearing. Five students in pristine armor, their weapons drawn. Class B, Robin recognized hazily. The team led by Kael.

Kael’s eyes swept the scene, the dead Hobgoblin, the fleeing goblins, two Class F students lying broken in the dirt.

His expression shifted from shock to calculation.

"Well, well," Kael said slowly. A smile spread across his face. "Looks like we arrived just in time."

Robin’s blood went cold despite the pain. No. No, he can’t....

Kael turned to his team. "Did you see that? We tracked this Hobgoblin for hours, weakened it with our coordinated assault, and finally brought it down."

He looked at Robin and Norman. "These two Class F students stumbled into our fight at the last moment. Lucky they weren’t killed."

"That’s not....." Norman tried to rise, but his damaged ribs wouldn’t allow it.

"Collect the trophy," Kael ordered his team. "The head should be proof enough for the Academy."

One of Kael’s teammates approached the Hobgoblin’s corpse, drawing a large knife.

Robin watched, helpless, as they began sawing through the creature’s neck. All the experience, all the proof of their victory, being stolen.

Kael crouched beside Robin, his voice low enough that only they could hear. "Thanks for doing the hard work, rejects.

But you understand how this looks, right? Two Class F students claiming to kill a B-rank? No one would believe it. Better that we take credit. More... believable."

He stood, addressing his team. "Let’s move. We need to report this kill before other teams arrive."

They left. Taking the Hobgoblin’s head. Taking the glory. Taking everything.

Robin and Norman lay in the dirt, too injured to pursue, too weak to protest.

The forest was silent except for their labored breathing and the distant sounds of fleeing goblins.

They’d won the fight.

And lost everything anyway.