Wonderful Insane World

Chapter 27: Discovered

Chapter 27: DiscoveredDylan rushed forward, machete in hand, sprinting through the trees without restraint, running to her aid.

He picked up the pace when he heard a gunshot. Just one. The last one.

But this time, he was close enough to hear her scream. And it wasn’t a cry for help:

— "Die, you filthy pieces of shit!"

It was the voice of the young elf—the one who was supposed to go get food. Clearly, she’d run into something bad. Bad enough to force her to pull her sidearm. That explained the harsh tone and the rage in her voice.

Dylan slowed down. His sprint turned into a calculated walk. He weaved between the trees, his steps nearly soundless. His eyes scanned the hedge separating him from the scene.

What he saw made him shiver.

Élisa was wounded in the arm, blood dripping down to her hand, clenched tightly around her pistol. She stood among three hobgoblin corpses, their blackish blood soaking into the moss at her feet. Two others were still standing, hesitant, but ready to pounce at any moment.

Dylan recognized them as hobgoblins by their build—hulking and hunched—but their skin was grayish, almost slate-colored, unlike the ones he’d fought before. Tribal markings scarred their skin, and their eyes glowed with a feverish light. These weren’t rookies.

Élisa, even wounded, kept her gun aimed directly at them. It was the only thing holding them back. A fragile illusion of control, ready to shatter at the slightest mistake.

The two hobgoblins each held a strange axe—crude handles, but the blades... made of bone. Massive, carved, jagged like beast jaws. Those weapons had seen a lot of flesh.

Dylan understood immediately: they were waiting for a moment of weakness. A lapse in attention. And at this rate, they were going to seize it soon.

But he wasn’t about to sit and watch.

He inhaled, let the machete slide into his palm, and calculated quickly. He had to surprise them, create a diversion, stab one of them... but most importantly, make sure Élisa didn’t panic and fire in confusion. One stray bullet, and he’d be dead beside the hobgoblins.

He quickly

He cast one last glance back. His gray eyes, cold as steel, shimmered with an almost inhuman light. His face had hardened.

Dylan had lied a little.

Yes, he was going hunting.

But not for food.

He was going to clean house.

Now that gunfire had rung out, and the hunters that chased Élisa wouldn’t be coming back, the others would definitely notice. Even with their shriveled brains, such a clear loss would raise alarms. They’d come to investigate. That was certain.

And Dylan fully intended to greet them—his way.