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Juzo stared at the monster before it. He had never seen the likes of such a creature before. A strange mixture of insect and boar. But he did not let an ounce of surprise sway his internal balance, the delicate flow of qi through his meridians and core.
He was far too experienced, far too traveled.
He trimmed away everything that was useless and focused. He did not care where this monster came from. He only cared about how to kill this thing.
In his early youth, when he left Mount Oe on a warrior's pilgrimage, he traveled the realms, and one of them, Faorese, the realm of elves and fairies, could have a half-bug, half-beast monster like this.
But that did not seem like it.
Faorese was dense with qi, with magic, and almost all its creatures were sensitive to it. This monster, on the other hand, as it circled Juzo, its tusks and bone white plating glistening in the faint glow of lightstone shine, did not emit any noticeable aura of qi, of mana.
Juzo gripped his axe in both hands, circling to the opposite direction of the monster, keeping his distance, keeping apace of the creature as it too analyzed him.
Juzo was no fool, and unlike many of his kind, through twenty years of travel, he had long since cut prejudice from his beliefs.
Thus, he knew to determine that this monster was not some brute.
Even apart from the monster speaking to him, he knew that it was highly intelligent despite its twisted, bestial appearance. It was in its eyes, for though their compound structure would have ordinarily been impossible to read, the glint of a trained warrior's gaze was universal; it transcended the boundaries of realm and race.
This, Juzo knew well from fighting the vastly different beastkin of his own realm, the fiery, feathered Karasi, the stripe-furred, sturdy Hwaran, and the scaled, water wielding Yinlong.
Juzo felt the monster's gleaming yellow eyes meet his, and he felt the few, smooth hairs on his body stand on end. He could feel even the slightest breeze flowing through the camp as intensely as if they were gusts of polar wind, cutting into his skin like ice.
His survival instincts were flaring, telling him that this monster was a match for him. Whoever came out of this battle would not emerge unscathed.
Perhaps not even alive.
Juzo's senses heightened.
He could smell the stench of iron in the air, and he knew then that this monster had killed many, many of his brethren.
Rage started to bud within him for his lost people, for in a way, it was his fault they had been left defenseless and dead.
He had wanted to isolate himself to meditate and charge his qi for the coming conflicts with the humans, not believing that any threat would find their encampments hidden so deep in these accursed woods.
Rage at not only the monster but also at himself formed a fuel, and he did not let that emotion go to waste.
He channeled it, letting it flow through his body, and he bound that emotion into his qi, molding it into the [sheathe] skill. He held his axe in front of him, and in a flash, it burst into flames, his qi infusing into the magic-sensitive volcanite.
"By what mechanism did you ignite your weapon?" said the monster as it continued to circle Juzo, continuing to look for an opening.
Juzo grunted and did not respond, for he could sense if he let his guard down even the slightest, the monster would attack, and his honed battle instincts told him that any attack from the beast was dangerous.
"A silent one. Rare, for how gratingly talkative and loud your species has been so far. Yet, preferable." The monster made the first move, charging forwards with its lengthy tusks.
Juzo narrowed his red eyes and stepped backwards, dodging the goring strike. He kept his qi flowing through his body in consistent [flow], keeping his physical abilities raised while having enough invested in projecting his magical energy outwards in [sense] to read the monster's intent.
The monster was not committing deeply to an attack, and so he did not either, for it seemed the creature was baiting him into a counter.
No, Juzo noted as the creature immediately changed its intent, flashing red in pure aggression, it had decided on offense again.
The sudden switch in intent was so jarring that he scrambled to adjust to it, breaking his even flow of qi and driving as much of it into his legs to perform a retreating back step at high speeds.
He made a distance of ten meters between himself and the monster in a flash, his high-speed movement ripping apart the dirt and grass in smoky trails. He exhaled. He had not even had half a second before the monster had so suddenly switched its intent.
There was not a single monster or warrior or adventurer he had faced so far that had the ability to change their intents, their decisions, so quickly and seamlessly.
Juzo realized he would have to focus deeply on analyzing the monster's intent if he wanted to get a read on it in time to react, so he pushed more qi into his [sense], keeping his sight trained on the monster to ensure that he would be able to read the shift in intent the moment it happened the next time, regardless of how quick it was.
The monster clicked its mandibles in some sort of gesture to itself before it lowered its center of gravity, preparing for a full speed charge. On its back, six spider legs were curled forwards, their glinting and sharp claws ready to slice at Juzo should the enormous tusks fail.
Juzo readied himself. He would read the monster's intent with [sense], dodge its attack, then counter with a fatal blow.
He did not know exactly how strong the monster's armored hide was, but he did spot a few small cracks on its side, likely from a [reinforce] boosted blow by Ganth.
It was extremely impressive that the beast's hide could take a blow like that, a blow that would have even sent Juzo flying with broken bones, so easily, but Juzo's offensive capabilities far outweighed his defensive ones.
With his fiery [sheathe] superheating the edge of his volcanite axe and his own qi boosting his power with [reinforce], a [reinforce] superior to that of Ganth's, he was confident he could slice through the monster's hide, though he likely would not be able to land a lethal blow through the thick, metallic bone carapace and dense musculature.
Then he would aim to cripple.
The monster' front hoof dragged across the forest floor once, digging out a deep indent in the dirt as it tensed up its muscles. It seemingly swelled in size, its muscles rippling and flexing in a display of overwhelming physical might.
Then, it charged.
"Come!" shouted Juzo, his long fangs baring as he gripped his axe tight and held it back, ready to swing it to slice off the monster's legs and ground it.
The monster kicked up clouds of dirt as it smashed its hooves into the forest floor, propelling itself with swelling muscles.
The creature was fast. Horrifyingly fast, considering how freakishly big and strong it was, but Juzo could deal with this.
All he had to do was maximize his [sense], and then he would be able to read the monster-
Or so he thought.
Juzo saw as the monster neared his attacking range that its original intent, a simple, frontal charge with its tusks, changed. There was a tail whip. A dozen combinations of slashing attacks with its many legs. A leaping strike. Even an attack that generated flame.
All at once.
The sheer number of intents would have overwhelmed Juzo, but he was battle experienced. Some sorcerers could utilize mind control type spells, and overreaching on [sense], projecting qi far away from one's own body, would leave the unguarded mind susceptible to mental domination.
Thus, the moment he felt his mind becoming overwhelmed, he stopped projecting his qi with [sense], and without even thinking, reactively slammed his axe into the ground, unleashing the volcanite axe's imbued property of explosively amplifying qi poured into it.
An eruption of lava and flame burst outwards in a ground shaking tremor.
The impact of the blow was like a bomb, blowing up a towering cloud of dirt, bright red molten rock, and flaming pieces of foliage, sending both combatants flying backwards from a shockwave of heated power.
===
The Collector twisted in the air and landed perfectly balanced on all fours, clicking its mandibles in surprise. It had thought its strategy to deal with these red variant goblins, even the special ones, sufficient enough.
The champion was likely a special red variant possessing the same abilities as the smaller specimen guarding this camp.
That meant that the champion likely possessed the same capability to read into the Collector and precognitively determine its movements on top of possessing fire-resistant skin.
The Collector had confirmed from the start of this battle that the champion did possess predictive abilities by reading subtle twitches of understanding in the champion's facial expressions and body language whenever the Collector readied to attack.
Then, it manipulated the champion into sinking deeper and deeper into focusing on reading the Collector by increasing the rate of thought put into its movements but shying away from the Collector's maximal mental processing speed.
That way, the Collector could maximally shock at the moment of true attack by unleashing its capacity to commit to several attacks simultaneously. The champion's mind would have faltered its feeble neurons attempted to keep up with simultaneously processed thoughts.
But the champion, unlike his smaller brethren, had subverted this strategy, likely with a pre-programmed reaction to drive down his tool and cause an explosion.
That too, the Collector wished to analyze.
This volcanite material did not seem to be processed in any complex manner, roughly carved up into sharp shapes functioning as rudimentary weapons much like the sticks of steel the humans used.
There was no engine. No circuitry. No moving parts. No chambers.
But the champion's axe could generate an explosive blowback of force and heat on par with the 40-millimeter ordinance of the human empire's B10 Incendiary Launcher, leaving a steaming, molten red hole five meters wide in the point of impact.
The Collector felt the damage from heat and splashed lava burning on its face and body, leaving smoldering, small holes in its hyperalloy carapace.
No, the B10 would have easily blown apart the Collector's rank 4 carapace. This level of damage was more akin to the B5 generation of launchers, the type the empire wielded in the very beginning of their conflict with the Collective half a century ago.
Still far beyond anything the Collector thought the champion and its primitive brethren were capable of.
Again, as the smoke cleared and the Collector stared at the unharmed, heat-resistant champion, there were no biological indicators that the champion was capable of this. Did the alloys and ores of this world also follow this strange principle?
The Collector made further adjustments to its calculations, classifying the volcanite axe as something more than a chunk of rock to be swung around with brutish force into the category of tinkering tools to eliminate as a threat.
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