Part- 382:

  The grouh him trembled as a dark mist began to gather, swirling with an iy that made his pulse qui. The fallen goblins seemed to melt away, merging into an inky mass, until a hulking, shadowed figure slowly emerged. The Foolish Hobgoblin took shape, standing at least a head taller than James, broad and menag, with a twisted snarl stretched across its face. Its jagged, broken club dripped with a strange, dark substahat looked like it could corrode anything it touched. As it turo him, its hollow eyes glinted with pure, mindless rage—a hatred that seemed fixed solely on James.

  James took a deep breath, feeling the familiar weight of his wooden sword in his hand. He steadied himself, knowing that this was his moment to prove his growth, his resilience. For this fight, he’d rely on his own skills, determined not to activate Crisis Mode. Today, he wao test his true strength.

  “Alright, big guy,” he muttered, tightening his grip on the hilt, “let’s see what you’ve got.”

  The Hobgoblin lunged forward, r with a fury that reverberated through the entire dungeon, sending waves of pressure in its wake. In response, James activated Sloth View. Time seemed to stretch, the Hobgoblin’s massive form hurtling toward him with a speed that, in his slowed perceptio almost nguid. He could see every detail—the thick, calloused fingers gripping the club, the droplets of dark liquid trailing behind as it swung, the deadly gleam in its eyes.

  Fht flickered, him a brief, vivid glimpse of the Hobgoblin’s move. He saw the path of its swing, the angle of the club slig through the air. With precise timing, James sidestepped, evading the strike as the club smashed into the ground with bone-shaking force. Shards of stoed from the impact, scattering around him as he seized his opening, lunging forward to thrust his wooden sword toward the creature’s eye.

  The jab ected, and the Hobgobli out a guttural scream, stumbling back as it clutched its wounded eye. “Not so tough now, are you?” James taunted, feeling the adrenaline surge as he pressed his advantage.

  The creature’s furious roars filled the cavern, its remaining eye wild with rage. It swung its club in an arc, trying to catch him off guard, but in Sloth View, he could see the attafolding well in advance. Dug uhe swing, he shot back up, sshing at the Hobgoblin’s arm. His movements felt like sed nature, each attack flowing into the with the precision of a dance. Every strike seemed to carry the weight of all his previous battles, the hard-earned skills that he’d honed over tless hours.

  The Hobgoblin roared again, swinging its club with renewed fury. James sidestepped with ease, watg as the club narrowly missed him, shattering against the wall and sending debris raining down. “You’re big, but you’re slow,” he muttered, cirg the beast, his gaze fixed on its every move. “Not sure if that’s enough to save you.”