Part- 383:

  Frustration seemed to fuel the Hobgoblin’s movements now, each attack more reckless tha. James could sehe desperation in the creature, a realization that it was outmatched, that the small human before it was slipping through its attacks with an agility it couldn’t prehend. James, oher hand, felt only sharper, more in trol. His Sloth View had granted him a level of awarehat made him almost feel invincible.

  Darting around the Hobgoblin’s side, he sshed at its leg, the wooden sword eg with a satisfying thud. The creature staggered, its massive form struggling to keep bance. James felt a smirk pull at the er of his mouth. “e on, that ’t be all you’ve got. I expected more from a level boss,” he teased, his voice dripping with a mix of amusement and challenge.

  The Hobgobli out another enraged roar, swinging wildly in an attempt to catch him off guard. But James was a step ahead, his vision allowing him to anticipate every movement, every desperate lunge and swing. He tio evade, staying just out of reach, taunting the creature with calcuted ease.

  “Is that broken club supposed to scare me?” James called out, dodgi another swing. “I’ve fought tougher goblins than you, and they didn’t need a club to back up their bark.”

  With each word, he felt his fidence grow, his voice steady and unwavering. This was more than a fight; it was a test of his own trol, a way to see how far he’d e sihe first time he’d stumbled into the Lamp of Time dungeon, unprepared and unsure. Now, he moved with purpose, with the poise of someone who knew his own strength.

  The Hobgoblin charged again, and this time, James didn’t even bother dodging. Instead, he stood firm, letting the creature e to him. Just as it raised its club, he shifted to the side, slipping past it like a shadow, and delivered a quick, brutal strike to its khe Hobgoblin’s leg buckled, its hulking body colpsing with a thud as it fell to one knee.

  “See? I told you—you’re just not fast enough,” James said, his tone almost mog. He circled the creature, watg as it struggled to rise, its breaths ing in harsh, guttural pants. The oerrifying figure now looked almost pitiable, its movements sluggish, its strength waning with every failed attack.

  For a moment, James lowered his sword, his gaze steady as he watched the Hobgoblin. “You know,” he said, almost versationally, “I expected more from a boss monster. Maybe it’s just me, but I thought you’d at least put up a det fight.”

  The Hobgoblin growled, attempting to muster o attack, but James could already see its limitations, the iable oute. He felt a strange mix of pity and satisfa as he sidestepped its final, desperate swing, easily avoiding the sluggish arc of its broken club.

  “Face it,” he murmured, his voice soft but resolute. “You’re done. I’ve already won.”