Cramer had no escape route.
Surrounding him were sacred corpses of his tribe. He stood alone as he faced the marching Goblin legion.
Cramer gazed at the Goblins. One, two, three, four… Forget it. There were countless Goblins!
Cramer grasped his Hammer tightly. He wouldn't die today, as these weak Goblins would perish!
Cramer roared as he charged at the Goblins who split their formation. They were chatting jovially, and the formation was disorganized. These were Goblins, after all, the lowliest and most foolish creatures!
A Goblin with the name Peasant shouted, "Engaging Cramer! Get ready! One, two, three! Grandson!"
That Goblin charged towards Cramer.
Cramer didn't understand what the Goblin was shouting about, but he recognized the last word. It was praise for Cramer.
