CHAPTER 346: CHAPTER 346 THEY CAME OUT

She didn’t know when Addison and the others would arrive, if they even could, but for now, all she could do was endure and hold the line for as long as possible.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

The dull impact of darts hitting flesh echoed in her ears—once, twice, again. Her Alpha blood kept her upright, but a hot fog rolled through her head; her limbs felt sluggish, and her thoughts thickened.

There was a lag between stimulus and response, a dangerous slow-motion where reflexes failed. Then the attackers poured from the bushes, silhouettes moving toward her. They must have assumed that a few sedative-coated darts, potent enough to fell an elephant, would bring her down quickly.

But unfortunately for them, when the attackers emerged from the bushes, Mary was still conscious, her movements sluggish, but her awareness intact. She forced herself to stay upright through sheer willpower, shaking her head to fight the encroaching haze clouding her mind.

When that wasn’t enough, she resorted to a harsher method of biting her own tongue, again and again. The sharp sting and metallic taste of blood snapped her back each time her vision started to blur.

She would stop just long enough for the wound to heal before repeating the process, unwilling to damage herself beyond recovery. It was a brutal rhythm, pain, blood, healing, and pain again, but the sedative was so potent that she had no choice but to keep doing it just to stay awake.

"Geh... hehe... gehahaha..." The monsters let out an eerie, guttural sound; perhaps it was their way of communicating, as they prowled closer, their tongues slithering over their lips in anticipation.

They looked thrilled at the sight of so much prey before them. Seeing so many already fallen from the poison darts only fueled their arrogance.

And now that even Mary, the one they feared the most, had been struck by multiple poison darts, and because of it, they grew bolder, convinced they could do whatever they wanted without consequence.

"Goblins..." someone whispered, though the word came out louder than intended, loud enough for everyone to hear. Even Mary felt her heart pound at the realization.

The goblins began chattering among themselves, their guttural voices mixing with hissing laughter as their golden, frog-like eyes swept over the group. When their gaze landed on the livestock, that greedy gleam in their eyes deepened, as if they had stumbled upon a feast, an overflowing cart of fresh prey ripe for the taking.

"Geeeheeeheee..." one goblin screeched, its voice shrill and grating. Then, from the shadows of the bushes, a larger goblin emerged. It was no taller than a five-year-old child, yet its presence carried a chilling weight.

An animal skull, likely that of a fox, crowned its head, and a crude necklace made of small, pale bones hung around its neck. From the shape and size, Mary could tell those bones once belonged to humans.

Her eyelid twitched at the sight. The moment the larger goblin appeared, the rest fell silent, their eyes gleaming with fear and obedience.

"Grahahha..." The goblin Mary assumed to be their leader let out a guttural laugh as it drew a jagged bone knife. Its grin stretched wide, revealing yellowed teeth, and its golden eyes gleamed with sinister intent.

Mary didn’t need to understand their language to know what it had ordered; its followers were told to kill everyone.

The next instant, the goblins erupted in a frenzy, shrieking with manic excitement. Their hands switched from poison darts to crude bows and bone knives, and they charged forward, weapons raised high as if eager to begin a blood-soaked hunt.

Fortunately, by then, Mary had regained some clarity. When the first wave lunged at her, she managed to dodge, though not completely unscathed. A bone knife grazed her side, tearing through her skin. Warm blood trickled down, matting her fur as the metallic scent of it filled the air.

But Mary, though injured, paid no mind to the pain. With a sharp twist of her head, she snapped her jaws to the side and bit down on one of the goblins beside her, cleanly tearing its head off in one savage motion. The sudden act of defiance startled the goblins, making them jolt and leap back in shock.

However, when they noticed her swaying on her feet, the fear in their eyes was quickly replaced by cruel amusement. Grating laughter filled the air as they began chattering among themselves again, their mocking tones echoing through the clearing.

Their leader remained at the rear, watching the carnage unfold with a twisted sense of satisfaction. It didn’t even bother to join the fight; instead, it reveled in its role as a self-proclaimed king, watching its prey be torn apart.

And why wouldn’t it feel powerful?

Normally, werewolves could crush goblins with ease, ripping them apart with a single bite or swipe of their claws. But today was different. The pack before them was made up of the old and the young, with their strongest warrior, Mary, still reeling from the sedatives.

To the goblins, this wasn’t a battle; it was sport. And they were confident they would win.

As for the coachmen, although they too had the ability to shift into wolves, they were not fighters. Whether they transformed or not made little difference; their strength was nowhere near that of a warrior.

In truth, their wolf forms were no stronger than those of an omega. If they had possessed real combat ability, they would have joined the warrior ranks long ago instead of serving as coachmen.

Knowing this, they chose to remain in their human forms, gripping whatever makeshift weapons they could find, horse whips, ladles, and iron rods, to fend off the goblins. Their only goal now was to protect the caravan and hold the line until help arrived... if help ever came.

But the sight before them offered little comfort.

The goblins’ golden, slit-pupiled eyes gleamed with sadistic glee as they closed in, their lips twisting into grotesque smiles. Despite being no taller than a five-year-old child, they were unnervingly agile, darting around in the shadows.

They attacked in swarms, overwhelming each werewolf with sheer numbers, forcing the defenders to retreat step by step as fear began to seep into their hearts.

"Grahaha... Hehehe..." The goblins’ laughter echoed through the clearing, grating, guttural, and full of malice, as they chattered among themselves.

They moved with unsettling coordination, darting in and out like a pack of hyenas. Whenever they grew wary of Mary, they didn’t rush in recklessly; instead, they circled her like predators toying with their prey, using their numbers to confuse and corner her.

Then, when she had nowhere left to move, they would lunge forward, slashing at her with their jagged bone knives, leaving shallow but painful cuts across her body.

From a distance, a goblin archer loosed a shot, an arrow whistling through the air before embedding itself in Mary’s side. Pain shot through her rib as she let out a low, involuntary whimper, her body trembling from the sting. Yet she refused to back down.

With a furious snarl, she snapped her jaws toward the nearest goblins, not managing to catch one, but the sound and force of her bite were enough to make them stumble back, fear flashing in their golden eyes as they remembered how easily she had crushed one of their kind earlier.

But once their fear faded, the goblins went right back to swarming her, nipping, slashing, and jeering as they circled like vultures sensing blood. Yet Mary wasn’t the Alpha’s daughter for nothing. Even with the sedative coursing through her veins, dulling her strength and clouding her mind, she still fought back with instinct and ferocity.

Every time a reckless goblin got too close, she struck, snapping her jaws or slashing with her claws, cutting down one or two before the rest darted away screeching. Their bone knives left shallow wounds on her skin, but her Alpha bloodline worked quickly, knitting flesh faster than any ordinary werewolf could manage.

Still, while Mary managed to hold her ground, the rest of the caravan wasn’t nearly as fortunate.

"Ah!" a young warrior cried out as a bone knife plunged into his thigh. Blood seeped through his torn trousers, but he didn’t retreat. Gritting his teeth, he tightened his grip on his weapon and held the line.

Together with the others, he and the remaining fighters formed a tight circle, shielding the old and the young within their ranks.

They knew exactly what would happen if the goblins got through; those creatures showed no mercy, especially to the weak. So, even as pain throbbed in their limbs and fear pressed on their chests, they stood their ground, refusing to let the monsters reach the ones they swore to protect.

"Young warriors, don’t let yourselves be distracted. Fight back!" the elderly woman cried, her voice breaking as she fought to hold back a sob. She couldn’t bear to see boys barely into their teens being cut down; most of them hadn’t even awakened their wolves yet, which meant no immediate healing.