Chapter 57: Refreshing

"Jingle-jingle!"
A sharp, urgent bell rang out in the night.
A wooden bowl tumbled to the ground, splashing half-drank, orange-red stew across the meadow.
Hiss—
Accompanied by the crisp, ringing sound of metal vibrating as a blade was smoothly drawn, an iron-gray flash of cold light vanished swiftly into the air.
The very next second, the executioner's greatsword was already held firmly in Shannon's hand.
Beside him, Alton reacted with equal swiftness.
Just a moment ago, he had been cheerfully sharing stories of his hometown with Shannon, but the instant the bell rang, his expression froze abruptly.
His short legs moved so fast they blurred into afterimages.
With a series of agile twists and leaps, he vaulted onto the roof of a roadside carriage.
While scanning the direction from which the sound came, a miniature, exquisitely crafted lute suddenly appeared in his hands.
A halfling's cheerful and enthusiastic nature did not mean they were fools to be pushed around.
A strong inner sense of responsibility enabled these little folk to display extraordinary courage and steadfast resolve far exceeding their stature when defending their loved ones and villages.
Their compact, unburdicisome frames also granted them above-average agility and rogue-like stealth and concealment abilities.
In fact, for a lightfoot halfling to be permitted to leave the extended family of their community and venture out as an adventurer was already proof enough of Alton's capability.
The reactions of the other adventurers around were hardly any different.
Following a flurry of pots and pans colliding and crashing to the ground, within the span of just a few seconds, the guards had already gripped their weapons and taken their positions according to a pre-arranged formation.
It was only then, after all the adventurers had fully prepared for battle, that the boisterous commotion finally drifted over from the camp of the caravan people on the other side.
"Goblins, twenty-three of them, no subspecies detected."
Rapidly tuning the strings with his hands, the halfling reported his findings to the others with calm precision.
The moment his voice fell, Shannon felt the tension in the bodies of the surrounding adventurers ease noticeably.
"Good, they're just goblins."
And it made sense; so close to a town like this, anyone daring to actively attack a human caravan—aside from certain monsters that had lost their perception of threat due to extreme hunger—would only be these brainless green-skinned bastards.
"Cree, Wilson, ready!"
Within the group, a guard who appeared to be the leader shouted loudly toward two longbow-carrying adventurers.
They moved quickly, evidently having cooperated many times before.
The two archers used hands and feet to swiftly climb atop the cargo carriages parked by the roadside in advance, seizing the commanding height.
Then, they took aim at the distant, shadowy figures of goblins rushing forward swiftly through the dark night.
Drawing their bows, nocking their arrows.
"Whoosh!"
The wooden arrow trailing tail feathers transformed into a slender, blurred outline, vanishing into the darkness.
Two dark shadows tumbled to the ground with a thud.
"Keep going!"
The adventurer shouted again.
The sound of air tearing apart rang out once more, but compared to before, this time the attackers included several teamsters from the caravan.
—They were disheveled, some even stained with mud and grass roots, evidently having taken a tumble on their way over.
They too gripped cross-bows and shortbows, squinting as they aimed and fired toward the direction whence the distant figures emerged.
This time, three goblins went down.
However, that was entirely the credit of the two professional marksmen, as one of the arrows had simultaneously pierced the chests of two green-skinned rats.
Visibility at night was far too poor, and ordinary people without combat experience fell far short of adventurers who frequently fought in the Mist Forest, both in terms of force and accuracy.
Accompanied by sharp screeches, the dense sound of rapidly approaching footsteps grew increasingly distinct.
The commanding adventurer glanced back at the cargo on the wagons behind him, hesitated for a moment, then looked toward "Jeff," the captain of the caravan who was tightly gripping a polearm with both hands.
Only then did he make up his mind, raising his one-handed sword high and shouting loudly to everyone around:
"Don't let these beasts near the caravan!"
"Brothers, charge!"
As one of the front-line fighters in the group, Shannon naturally could not lag at the tail end in the face of the impending battle.
With a stride of his legs, his entire body had already surged forward.
Meanwhile, his gaze swept across the surroundings along with his charging momentum.
Only after confirming there were no signs of an ambush on either flank and that teammates were guarding and supporting him from behind did he feel slightly relieved.
Hum-dom—
In the air congealed by the high-pressure atmosphere, a high-pitched, impassioned chord suddenly rang out.
It was not complex, seemingly composed merely of soaring notes repeating continuously.
Yet it seemed to possess a certain peculiar rhythm, making one unconsciously immerse themselves within it.
His muscle strength was not enhanced, nor did his consciousness become clearer because of it.
Those notes merely seeped through his pores into flesh, blood, sinews, and bones like invisible phantoms in the air.
They created a psychological illusion that was more favorable to combat.
It felt as if his body had suddenly grown a fraction lighter, and the stored power in his arms had become more abundant.
Shannon's charging pace accelerated instantly.
His mind flashed back to the halfling's lute he had glimpsed earlier, coupled with the other's light and brightly colored attire.
"A bard?"
The thought flickered past and vanished.
In the blink of an eye, he had reached the very front of the formation.
Beside him were the angry roars of teammates in combat and the sharp sounds of clashing metal.
Shannon focused entirely, casting away the ambient noise at his ears.
Straight ahead,
four goblins were brandishing clubs and lunging toward him with bared teeth and claws!
The tip of his sword touched the ground.
His constitution, which had reached 8 points after absorbing the dewdrop, allowed Shannon not to worry about the toll of battle techniques on his physical functions.
He simply executed a fierce forward step!
His leather boots instantly sank into the soft soil beneath the meadow.
Yet as those brownish, damp earth swallowed his heels, it also seemed to suddenly channel up the strength originating from the depths of the earth!
A powerful, driving force surged all the way up from the soles of his feet, gathering and sweeping together the power ordinarily hidden deep within his flesh and blood, concentrating it into a single point in an instant.
Traveling from his palm into the hilt, he drove the blade through an exquisite technique that had long since become muscle memory through countless repetitions of practice.
[Whirling Slash]
Whoosh—
Against the backdrop of the firelight, an iron-gray, razor-sharp arc tore through the night.
Shannon only felt four slight moments of resistance transmitted through the sword in his hand.
Flesh and blood like paper, sinews and bones like firewood.
With the sharp blade imbued by powerful momentum, the goblins were robbed of their lives by the cold light even before they could let out painful screams.
Stinking, foul blood gushed forth like a spring, lifting severed limbs and internal organs high into the air as they were flung upward.
The crimson blood staining the sword blade was scattered across the ground along with the poured-out force.
The stray locks of hair across his forehead fluttered violently, and the bloody stench rushing into his nasal cavity with his breath made Shannon frown slightly.
Yet welling up within his heart was an inexplicable sense of exhilaration.
It was akin to a butcher skillfully dismantling pork on a chopping block—the unspeakable pressure and stifling frustration accumulated deep within his heart from facing the bugbear, the basilisk, and even that massive dead snake whose defenses he had been unable to pierce.
Released in a single instant with the death of the four green-skinned bastards.
At this moment, Shannon had only one thought in his mind:
"Damn, that felt good!"