Level seven came without a delay. Barriers didn't open, trees didn't bore under the arena, rivers remained, and another crack appeared, unleashing another group of swamp goblins. A hundred and fifty goblins according to the joyous announcer in purple.
Kwan was nowhere to be found, and Ned doesn't have the luxury of time looking for him.
Two dozen of goblins herd the wet soil, forming a small hill of dead humanoids.
Ned pulled arrows off the dead goblins, he chose only the one that was salvable, the rest were either split to half or were stuck inside the skull and was difficult to pull. Ned pulled the last arrow sunk inside the eye when a spell-made wind blew from west of him. Highlighting a rough, and warm smell. A treacherous odor only Ned could smell.
