CHAPTER 177: TRAP

[You have been caught within a Movement-Restricting Seal: Spectral Stillness]

[All movement type skills have been disabled]

My eyes widened, the system notification burning into my vision like a cruel joke.

"The fuck..." I muttered under my breath, pulse spiking.

Across from me, one of the goblins stepped forward with a smug grin plastered across his scarred face.

"Chief was right," he said, his tone thick with mockery. "He said you’d come back the moment you realized what was happening. Told us to set the barrier so you wouldn’t run."

For a second, I just stared at him—processing. Then the words sank in.

What?

He tilted his head, clearly enjoying himself. "Amon had his use after all, huh?"

My gaze sharpened instantly. "Amon?" I echoed, the name hitting harder than I wanted to admit.

The goblin’s grin widened.

"Oh, he told us plenty about you," he said, glancing at the others who chuckled darkly behind him. "Your fancy teleporting tricks, your little vanishing act... we knew all we had to do was set the right snare. And look at that—" he gestured mockingly toward me, "you walked right into it."

He laughed, loud and mocking, the sound echoing through the trees.

"Did you actually come back to fight the chief?" he sneered. "You must have lost your mind?"

I clicked my tongue, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reply. His words barely registered; I’d already shifted focus.

Yeah, I’d been played. I could admit that much. The realization stung, but panic wouldn’t help me now. I needed clarity, not fear. Every second wasted here was another second the chief got closer to Ariel—and if he reached her before I did... no, I couldn’t let my mind go there.

I exhaled slowly, steadying myself. There had to be a way out of this restriction. Every skill had a counter, every construct a weakness—it was just a matter of finding it.

Still, a sliver of unease slipped through my composure. Ariel should be fine... right? She wasn’t reckless enough to stay put after sensing that monster’s presence. She’d run. She had to.

But a darker thought whispered at the back of my mind: What if she couldn’t?

I pushed it aside and raised my head, eyes sweeping the clearing. The seven goblins had circled, their weapons drawn, each of them grinning like hyenas closing in on a wounded animal.

Fine. I’d play.

If they wanted prey, they’d chosen the wrong one.

But first lets see what I was dealing with.

The first one—the same goblin who had spoken earlier—stood out immediately. He wasn’t the largest among them, but the way the others shifted slightly behind him told me everything I needed to know. He was the one in charge.

I studied him carefully.

He was thin and wiry, his movements sharp and deliberate, the kind that came from experience rather than brute strength.

His armor looked like it had seen too many battles—charred leather patched with jagged pieces of molten iron, the edges still faintly glowing as if it had just come out of a forge. His skin was a pale, ashen green, scorched in places where blackened streaks ran across his arms and neck, pulsing dimly with heat.

He held a spear—long, crooked, and scarred with burn marks—its tip glowing with a dull red ember that refused to die. Every time he shifted his grip, the air around him wavered, rippling from the heat that radiated off the weapon. I didn’t even need [Analyze] to know what kind of power he possessed; the temperature alone said enough.

I activated [Analyze] and a faint shimmer passed through my vision as the system displayed his details:

Name: Hissra | Race: Goblin

Title: Chosen

Level: 47

Innate Skill: [Hellbrand]

Hellbrand.

The name alone carried weight.

I had known his innate skill was something that had to do with flames, but there no doubt this skill was anything but ordinary. Especially given he was the strongest one of them.

I turned my gaze to the next one, letting [Analyze] sweep over him as the data flickered before my eyes:

Name: Vorn | Race: Goblin

Title: Chosen

Level: 43

Innate Skill: [Pain Rush]

The description barely did justice to the creature standing in front of me.

Vorn’s skin was bare, slick with sweat and grime, the thick cords of muscle along his arms twitching with barely contained energy. His entire body was a map of scars—some thin and faded, others deep and jagged, like reminders of wounds that should’ve killed him but didn’t. Across his chest, several gashes were crudely stitched shut with black thread, and faint steam rose from them as if the pain itself fueled him.

His eyes were bloodshot, the pupils too small, the whites of his eyes veined and wild. The grin he wore was stretched unnaturally wide, exposing sharp, broken teeth. He had no armor—just a belt made of skull fragments tied together with dried tendons, each bone carved with rough runes and symbols that looked like kill marks.

When he noticed my gaze, his grin twitched wider.

"What are you looking at?!" he snarled, his voice guttural and raw.

The sudden aggression made me tense, more from reflex than fear.

His energy flared in response, hot and chaotic, like a storm that thrived on pain.

"This bastard..." another goblin hissed from the back, his tone dripping with irritation. "He’s actually using [Analyze] in this situation."

I turned towards him. [Analyze] skill active.

Name: Threl | Race: Goblin

Title: Chosen

Level: 46

Innate Skill: [Stoneplate]

Threl was a broad-shouldered goblin whose entire body looked as though it had been carved out of rock, his skin carrying a stony hue, gray and uneven look.

Even without [Analyze], his durability was obvious.

He wasn’t built for speed; he was built to outlast.

"You should be pleading for your life," he said flatly,

"That would be pointless," another voice cut through the air—soft, smooth, unmistakably feminine.

I turned my eyes toward the speaker.

Name: Nira | Race: Goblin

Title: Chosen

Level: 42

Innate Skill: [Silent Step]

Nira frame was slender compared to the others, but her presence carried a quiet sharpness. A hood of woven hide partially shadowed her face, though I caught the gleam of twin blades strapped to her thighs. The air around her was unnaturally still, her aura muted to the point of vanishing.

If I hadn’t been looking directly at her, I might not have noticed her at all.

"She’s right," Nira continued calmly. "It’s no use begging. He’s the one who destroyed the graveyard."

"That’s right," Threl added, his tone thick with disdain. "The chief wanted you to join the clan once. Thought you had potential. But after what you did? That offer’s gone. Now he only sees you as...