Lila stared at me, her mouth slightly open, her expression caught in disbelief.

  “The Goblin King?” she echoed, her voice rising a little in pitch. “You mean that Goblin King? The one who commands an army of goblins... the one who rides that giant goblin creature that can tear down trees and throw them like twigs?”

  She gestured animatedly, as if trying to physically grasp the scale of what I had just proposed.

  I chuckled under my breath, tightening the strap of my pouch across my shoulder. “Yeah, that one.”

  For a long moment, she just stared at me, her mouth opening and closing like she wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words. Finally, she threw her hands up in surrender.

  "I—I just can't with you," she groaned, exasperated. "Do whatever you want, you crazy bastard!"

  I laughed, a low, genuine sound. "I understand why you're worried, Lila. I do. But think about it... this might be a great opportunity."

  She crossed her arms, still fuming but listening.

  "I've never heard of any group, any party, managing to kill the Goblin King," I continued. "And do you know why? It’s because they can’t prepare for it. The Goblin King is a rare encounter, he doesn’t always spawn, he doesn't announce himself, and when he does show up, it's chaotic. No one ever expects it. No one ever has the time to plan properly."

  I paused, letting the weight of it settle between us.

  "What do you think happens if we actually manage to take him down?" I asked. "Two things. First, the Goblin King’s empire? It's bound to have a treasury. Everything they’ve stolen, hoarded, hidden away. All of it, ours for the taking if we manage to kill him."

  "And second..." I smiled, a slow, hungry smile. "Killing an enemy that no one's ever managed to kill before? That’s the kind of feat that earns a title."

  Lila stared at me for a long moment, her arms still crossed but her posture less defensive now, her mind clearly working.

  "You’re insane," she muttered, but there was a spark in her eyes now. A tiny flicker of excitement. "But... if anyone's crazy enough to pull it off, it’s probably you."

  "Good," I said, turning toward the winding path deeper into the dungeon. "Because we’re going to need every bit of that crazy."

  But we needed to be strategic about this.

  I wasn’t naive enough to believe that having one hundred fifty slimes made me invincible. At the end of the day, we were still just a small army standing against an entire empire of goblins. If we charged in without a plan, we would be crushed beneath the sheer weight of their numbers. No, if we were going to bring down the Goblin King, it would have to be with precision: careful, methodical strikes, not reckless bravado.

  "For now," I said, snapping my fingers and pointing at one of my nearby slimes, "you’re up."

  The little creature wobbled once in acknowledgment.

  "Make your way to the second floor’s portal," I ordered. "Stay hidden. Avoid all contact. I want you stationed near the portal that leads out of the first floor. Do not engage anything. Do not be seen."

  The slime gave another quick, eager wobble before slithering off into the depths of the dungeon.

  Lila watched, frowning slightly. "You're sending it ahead alone?"

  I nodded. "I need a scout. I need to know if they’ve fortified the portal leading from the second floor back down to the first. If they have, then that changes everything. It would mean they aren’t just patrolling their territory, they’re actively blocking escape routes. If that's the case, any adventurer trying to ascend or descend would be slaughtered."

  She swallowed. "So you're making sure we don't walk into a death trap?"

  "That’s right," I said. "

  With Shared Vision of Blinking, I could tap into my slime’s senses remotely. I could see exactly what it saw, read the movements of the enemy, estimate their numbers, judge their defenses, all without stepping into their line of sight.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  For the time being, it would take my scouting slime a few hours at least to reach the second floor. That gave me just enough time to put my newly enhanced Crimson Fang Bolt to the test, to see how it truly felt in real battle.

  Wasting no time, Lila and I began searching through the winding corridors of the fourth floor. It didn’t take long before we found an Eyebat, lazily floating near the ceiling, its large single eye scanning the dimly lit hallway. But I wasn’t planning on killing it, not yet.

  Instead, I had a better idea.

  Eyebats naturally served as sentries, calling nearby monsters to their aid. But if I could control the pace of the fight and use them to lure in waves of gargoyles, I could turn this place into a controlled battlefield, a perfect setup for farming.

  I stepped into view of the Eyebat, signaling silently for my slimes to hold position. “No attacks unless I give the order,” I murmured.

  The eyebat’s pupil dilated sharply. Its eye flashed a menacing red, and just as expected, the dormant gargoyles around us stirred to life, stone wings grinding against stone as they turned their hollow gazes toward us.

  Without hesitation, I gave the command.

  “All rangers, fire.”

  A whistling storm of bolts filled the corridor, streaking toward the incoming gargoyles. I watched closely, and almost immediately, a series of crisp system notifications materialized in front of my vision.

  As I expected, the Maledictive Crimson Fang Bolt’s effects were working perfectly, every impact triggering a status roll. However, a creature made entirely of stone and animated magic wouldn’t be affected by burns or toxins. No skin, no blood. Just animated rock.

  But then, another notification popped up, and a grin crept across my face.

  There it is.

  Unlike fire or poison, the stone bodies of the gargoyles were still vulnerable to extreme temperature shifts. Their slow, grinding movements hesitated, and a faint layer of frost began to spread across the nearest one’s wings, slowing its charge to a crawl.

  I tightened my fists, excitement surging.

  The Maledictive Crimson Fang Bolt was working exactly as intended.

  And this was just the beginning.

  As more bolts rained down, striking the advancing gargoyles in rapid succession, a cascade of new notifications flooded my interface, each one painting a clearer picture of how devastating the Maledictive Crimson Fang Bolt could truly be.

  I watched with sharp satisfaction as two nearby gargoyles, their movements turning wild and erratic, suddenly turned on each other, swinging their heavy, stone-carved arms. Shards of rock splintered from their bodies as they clashed, blind to friend or foe alike.

  Another volley struck home, and the notifications continued:

  No surprise there. Bleeding was worthless against creatures without flesh. Just another expected immunity in the long list of things stone simply didn’t care about.

  Moments later, yet another:

  Again, expected. Without a nervous system, there was nothing to disrupt, no nerves to lock up.

  But the randomness of the rune meant I wasn’t banking on any one specific status. It was a constant barrage, an unpredictable assault, and even among the immunities, the ones that did land, Confusion, Freeze, were already doing their work.

  Slow, one more ailment that mattered against even inorganic creatures. Their movements dragged, their strikes lost their force. They were still sturdy, sure, but now they were sluggish, clumsy, and far easier to pick apart.

  I stood there, arms crossed, a growing sense of satisfaction filling me.

  This was the start of complete battlefield control.