CHAPTER 186: RETRIBUTION

I dismissed [Mana Shield], the faint shimmer around me fading as I moved through the thinning smoke—Nira still in my grip, dazed but breathing.

The blast had stirred up just enough chaos, scattering ash and debris through the trees, masking my retreat perfectly. I took full advantage of it, slipping between the shadows and putting distance between us and the others.

Behind me, the sounds of battle rose—shouts, flame, the twang of arrows, and the harsh clash of bone against stone. I allowed myself a grin, the corner of my mouth curling as I listened.

My little plan had worked.

The moment Gork saw her engulfed in flames, something inside him broke. And now, they were too busy tearing each other apart to realize they’d already lost.

I understood that kind of rage—knew how blinding it could be. If it had been Zarah caught in the blast, I might’ve done the same... or worse.

Nira stirred again, struggling weakly in my grip, but I wasn’t about to let her slip free.

So I shifted her roughly, forced her back against the nearest tree, and activated the skill I’d stolen from that armored goblin general—the one who’d tried to trap me with his cursed frost.

Coldbind.

Frost surged from my palm, racing across the bark and creeping up Nira’s limbs like a living chain. Crystalline ice locked her in place, sealing her wrists and ankles with biting cold. Her breath hitched as the chill set in, her body trembling against the frozen bark.

"Try not to die of cold," I muttered and turned toward the direction of the fighting. The forest ahead was alive with chaos—flashes of firelight, the sharp clang of impact, and the guttural shouts of goblins tearing into one another.

I could’ve used the distraction to slip away, to put as much distance as possible between myself and this mess. It would’ve been the smart move—head straight for the chief, end this from the top down. But I couldn’t. Not yet.

Not while my innate ability was still sealed.

[Phase Walker] wasn’t just another skill—it was the skill. The core of who I was. The one ability that made everything else I’d done possible. If Hissra left... or worse, died before I forced him to release it, then the seal would remain locked forever.

And that was something I couldn’t afford.

Without [Phase Walker], I was grounded—forced to move like everyone else. No more instant steps through space, no more blink escapes or quick repositioning. It wasn’t just a combat edge; it was how I traveled, how I survived.

If I lost it, I’d be reduced to running on foot, navigating this cursed forest mile by mile just to get back to my clan.

But with it? One thought, one blink—and I’d be there.

Yeah. I needed my innate skill back.

To make that happen, I needed Hissra to bring out the seal—force him to. And I had an idea on how to do just that.

I broke into a sprint, heading straight toward the heart of the chaos where the goblins were still locked in combat.

"System," I muttered under my breath, "dump all remaining stat points into Agility."

[Agility: 80 → 88]

The change was instant. My limbs felt lighter, every step faster, sharper—my body practically vibrating with speed. I needed that. For what I was about to pull off, I needed to move like a blur.

Up ahead, I spotted one of the targets I was hoping to find—Threl, the goblin with the innate skill [Stone Plate], stomping toward me with fury etched into every movement. His arms were already hardening, rocks forming dense gauntlets around his fists, his eyes burning with rage.

"You bastard!" he roared, the gravel in his throat matching the earth on his arms.

Perfect.

I activated [Stealth]—the world around me dulling as my presence folded inward, and then I moved.

With my boosted Agility, I didn’t just sprint—I vanished, and to anyone watching, it would’ve looked like I’d teleported.

And with a punch that carried everything I had behind it, my fist slammed into Threl’s face.

CRACK.

The sound echoed through the clearing, sharp and brutal. His head snapped backward from the force, and his entire body lifted off the ground, spinning midair before crashing violently into a nearby tree. Bark exploded on impact as he crumpled to the base in a heap of limbs and dust.

I didn’t wait to see if he got up.

I turned immediately toward the direction of the next disturbance—the sounds of movement, low growls, and the crunch of shifting ground. My steps were silent but swift, carrying me toward the noise.

Then I saw them.

The remaining three.

Gork was suspended off the ground, held high by Druk’s bone-plated arm wrapped tightly around his throat. His legs kicked weakly, his bow lying broken in the dirt. Hissra was approaching slowly, flames dancing along his arms, and Malvrik stood to the side, calmly watching it all unfold like it was a private show.

My arrival cut through their focus.

Their heads turned—first one, then all—and for a heartbeat, we simply stared at each other.

Then it clicked.

They remembered.

Who the real target was.

Me.

In an instant, their postures shifted, Hissra raising his hands, flames roaring to life in his palms, and Malvrik lowering his stance, a sickly green orb of poison already forming at his fingertips, pulsing with a toxic sheen.

I didn’t wait. I activated [Stealth]—the world muffled instantly as my presence folded into the shadows.

And in a blink—

I was in front of Druk.

He had just driven a jagged bone spike through Gork’s torso, pinning him midair like a broken trophy.

Without hesitation, I drew [Gravefang] and brought it down in a clean arc, slicing through the bone that skewered Gork. The spike shattered, freeing him as he collapsed to the ground, unconscious or worse—I didn’t check.

Druk took a step back, eyes widening as he realized I was there. He raised his arm, bone shifting to counter—

But I didn’t give him the chance.

I surged forward, thrusting [Gravefang] deep into his throat.

GRRAKK.

The sound was wet and awful. He choked, gagging as blood rushed into his mouth and spilled over his lips in thick crimson streams.

I yanked the blade free, the edge tearing out with a spray of blood, and Druk’s body jolted violently.

He dropped to his knees, clutching at his ruined neck—eyes wide in shock, gurgling on his own blood.

And then he collapsed.

The heavy thud of Druk’s body hitting to the ground stole the attention of the other two.

And the two of them turned sharply, their heads snapping in my direction.

Their eyes widened when they saw Druk’s corpse slumped over in a pool of his own blood.

And Malvrik froze—completely still, his body tense with disbelief.

However, Hissra, to his credit, didn’t stay stunned for long. His instincts kicked in, and flames erupted violently from his palms, his arms sweeping forward as a jet of fire surged toward where I’d been standing.

But by then, I was already gone.

I used [Stealth] vanishing again and moved, blitzing towards my target.

And when I reappeared, I was right in front of Malvrik whose breath caught as he...