"A pitchfork met a goblin─both dead."
Moros laughed at the joke he just made in his mind; the goblin that met the pitchfork in its abdomen was not laughing as much after he pulled it out.
Neither did the other goblins in the backline that had noticed the intruder. Yet, most of those had to take care of the peasants they were fighting in the front.
A lone human did not warrant any more attention than a few goblins at most, so most of the goblins that did notice Moros simply looked forward, ready to spring into action if there were casualties on the front line.
An evaluation that would cost them dearly as Moros was not the type of human that could be bested if a few goblins attacked him.
4 goblins that came at him, were easily picked off one by one. One met the pitchfork again, the other had his throat slashed and the other two were sent to the goblin god with their necks broken.
At some point, Moros did not try to be creative about his kills. Instead, he just preferred to get things done and keep the goblins dead. Since in front of him were several hundred goblins still waiting for their turn…
Alas, the truth was a most bitter one to Moros, he heard the sounds of fighting, and many peasants screaming further away. As such, even at this moment, he was robbed of his precious XP.
He was not foolish enough to think he could take on 400 on his own, but it still hurt his soul to watch them being taken away by peasants, who did not even know the value of whatever they killed.
Strangling the next goblin that bothered to come near Moros, he realised that all of this took way too long.
All of them would be dead by the time he finished more than 20 monsters.
Grabbing his 20 knives, he took a deep breath and began hurling them all at the creatures.
As proficient as Moros was when it came to a brawl in melee range, he proved extraordinarily bad when it came to throwing things.
The first goblin he aimed for felt nothing of the dagger coming its way, but its neighbour had now one stuck in its butt. The second knife thrown did not land on its intended target but a new goblin will not be having kids anytime soon.
Trying his best to ignore the cries of pain coming from the other side Moros grabbed the next 2 from the pile of weapons lying on the floor and attempted another try to go for the kill.
Knife number 3 was thrown with passion, yet passionately it dove deep into the right foot of an unsuspecting goblin, who had turned around to see what the uproar was about.
Dagger number 4 flew in the air with a mighty arc, while it should have gone straight. With precision it hit the mortally wounded peasant, currently telling his family his last goodbyes directly in his face, cutting the speech short.
[Killed Peasant 1XP gained]
Moros looked around, no one knew it was him that did it, right?
Not letting a slight hiccup ruin his performance, he grabbed another pair for his next throws. This time he promised himself to avenge the soul of the poor peasant that he had killed.
Channelling all his strength knife 5 was launched forward at a breakneck speed, its goal was to kill, it was to destroy…it hit a goblin's thigh.
The goblin itself turned around and yanked the knife out. It looked at Moros with hatred in its eyes and laughed at him with a maniacal cackle.
It also did not know what an artery was and why it would soon drop dead on the floor. With a big thud, the taunting goblin fell to the floor.
[Goblin killed 1XP gained]
"I hope you see this in heaven Kevin, I avenged you!" Moros muttered under his breath. He had done his utmost to make sure that Kevin, if that was his name, could rest easy.
Dagger 6 did only hit the ground, but Moros was not discouraged by that. Instead he quickly grabbed the next ones, ready for mayhem.
7 and 8 both met their targets, but none of the wounds was deadly in itself. It only agitated the goblins more. Many goblin eyes now lay on the human and were just about to break formation to kill this annoying human.
Instead, only a few of the goblins made up their mind and rushed at the throwing madman.
This development was much in Moros' favour as the targets came closer and were easily hit. Sadly, with his aim the next thrown knives, hit other goblins and created new enemies that came to him.
In turn Moros had even more targets to hit and yet he still missed them and hit other monsters in sensitive parts causing them to run towards him driven by madness.
This continued for a while, until all twenty weapons had been thrown, the impressive outcome of Moros' throwing skills amounted to 17 angry goblins chasing him, 1 knife in the ground, 1 dead peasant and one dead goblin.
All in all, Moros' ability to brew up trouble once again displayed itself.
The wise, young man decided to fall back into the forest and grab more weapons to throw. Since he had to kill at least one goblin with his throwing skills.
The goblins did not know about his plans, but followed him nonetheless. However, they would soon realise that Moros had too much endurance to spare.
Arriving in the sea of corpses, the goblins felt that something was amiss…just where had the pesky human run to?
The wounded butt cheeks goblin was the first to notice this as his other cheek had another knife lodged in it. Moros had aimed for its face, but at the very least, it was the same target.
Chasing after the target yet again in the dense forest, more and more knives were thrown at the goblins. While Moros tried his best to create lethal ones, no one of them landed on the right spot.
Due to the targets being plenty, a lot of wounds still covered their body.
Yet, Moros was not happy…why could he not throw these knives like a normal person could? He needed to be much better at this otherwise he would never amount to anything in life.
Well, it was easy to see, if at first you don't succeed, try and try again.
Soon the goblin turned to corpses, their bodies covered in wounds and knives that stuck on the body. Yet, Moros did not like his success rate.
"I have thrown over 200 times, why can I not hit the thing I want to hit?"
The thought echoed in his mind and he could not tell, why throwing objects was so much harder than he thought it to be.
Armed with 30 more knives he walked back to the scene of the battlefield, hoping there were still some goblins left that could serve as a great target practice.
After returning to the place of battle, he gave a big sigh of relief.
The group had indeed thinned but there were still many of them. He thought about it for a second, instead of just taking too he grabbed 3 knives in each and just flung them into the air.
If he can not hit them with precision he might as well spray them out and hope for luck to be on his side. If by luck he meant hitting 6 more goblins and making them incredibly angry at Moros, then yes luck was on his side.
The second and the third time he tried to do so, did not change the outcome. Many new goblins had switched their target and were now running after Moros.
In a twist of fate, the fourth throw managed something never done prior, it hit absolutely nothing at all.
Moros cursed at his skills and then bolted again because the angry mob of goblins had come way too close again.
Fleeing into the forest he decided to train his skills further.
Many screams echoed through the forest as Moros continued to kill them all by failing over and over again.
While he did get the XP, he did not like the sensation of not being good at something, he thought he could do with utter ease... To him, normal people would have learned something like that with ease.
Malissa would laugh in his face and likely ask if he could aim his little one with this kind of bad aim.
The results of his training showed he did not learn a thing but more and more corpses looked like they had been attacked by a horde of angry bees if they had knives as a stinger.
"Focus Moros, focus."
Moros grabbed another set of knives and ran to the battlefield again.
"This time," he swore, "...this time I will finally get my first kill."
The remaining goblins on the battlefield did not know what kind of horror awaited him. What kind of horror came closer and closer, hoping to train his skills.
Would the monstrosity in human flesh hit? Or would the monsters realise the true suffering of bad aim…
They would learn the answer to that soon…