When I Cleared the Death Game World, I Reincarnated as a Villainous Noble Even if They Talk About Doom Flags, I'm Actually Immortal. - Chapter 10

Lior burst into the open chamber, dashing straight toward the goblin shamans.

They were the ones orchestrating the ritual—if he took them out, the entire ceremony would collapse.

“One down.”

“Gugyaa!?”

With a swift slash, Lior beheaded one of the shamans.

The remaining two recoiled in terror, scrambling to escape.

But before they could flee, Lior lunged forward, his sword flashing.

A precise thrust speared through the second shaman’s back.

“That makes two.”

The final shaman was within reach—

But before Lior could finish the job, a horde of goblins surged forward, forming a wall of bodies between them.

Nearly a hundred goblins filled the chamber, blocking his path.

The last shaman fled deeper into the ruins, quickly resuming the ritual.

“I guess I have to deal with this first.”

Sweat dripped from the shaman’s brow as he chanted frantically, clearly terrified—

Yet, rather than saving himself, he prioritized completing the ritual.

Lior clicked his tongue.

He needed to cut through the horde if he wanted to stop the ritual in time.

“Let’s wrap this up.”

“Gugyaa!!” “Gyaa!!”

The goblins charged.

Lior sidestepped effortlessly, his movements light and fluid.

Like a leaf caught in a storm, their clumsy attacks never touched him.

“I can see all of your movements… and I can counter them just as easily.”

“Gugyaa!?”

Each time Lior dodged, his blade struck true.

A single stroke severed a goblin’s head.

A quick stab pierced another’s heart.

His movements were clean, precise, and efficient—every action measured and lethal.

It was as if Lior anticipated their attacks before they even moved.

(Even goblins channel magic when they act. If I watch closely, I can predict their movements—no matter how many there are.)

In this world, combat relied heavily on magic.

Magic was an intrinsic force present in all living beings,

whether used for spells, or to enhance physical abilities.

Even basic movements, like swinging a sword, involved a subtle flow of magic through the body.

Skilled warriors, like Laura, could control this energy, focusing it into powerful strikes.

It functioned like a second set of muscles, allowing superhuman feats in combat.

But magic had a critical flaw—

The moment someone decided to act, their magic flowed in preparation.

If you could sense that flow, you could see their next move before they even made it.

It was like playing poker against someone who had to show their hand.

If their movements were predictable, countering them was trivial.

The goblins, outmatched and outread, fell one after another.

Of course, this level of perception was not normal.

Even seasoned knights struggled to predict movements so precisely.

This was a skill reserved for true masters, warriors who dedicated their lives to combat.

Or in Lior’s case—

A madman who had fought monsters stronger than gods.

“GRAAAAAA!!”

“Gugyaa!? Gyaagyaa!!”

A thunderous roar erupted from deeper within the ruins.

Heavy footsteps shook the chamber, like an approaching earthquake.

And then—

A massive figure emerged from the shadows.

A towering goblin, nearly twice the size of the others, stepped forward.

(A Hobgoblin… Well, if there are shamans, this was bound to happen.)

Hobgoblins were an evolved form of goblins.

They were stronger, smarter, and significantly tougher.

Whenever a goblin horde grew large enough to raid villages, one of these monsters emerged.

They were too powerful for rookie adventurers to handle.

“GRAAAAA!!”

The hobgoblin raised a sword high above its head—

A massive, gleaming silver blade.

It swung down with brutal force—

CLANG!!

The ground split open where the sword struck, sending dust and stone flying.

Of course, Lior wasn’t there anymore.

He had already moved.

(That’s insane power. If that connects, I’d be paste.)

(And that sword… It’s made of mithril? That’s not normal.)

Mithril weapons were rare and incredibly durable.

Even seasoned adventurers often dreamed of owning one.

(Could it be…? Is that the missing adventurer’s weapon?)

A newbie adventurer shouldn’t be able to afford a mithril blade.

Did she inherit it?

Or… was it stolen?

Either way, it was currently being used as a toy by a massive goblin brute.

The blade remained flawless, even as the hobgoblin swung it wildly, slamming it into the stone floor.

It was a dangerous combination—

A monster with brute strength, paired with a weapon that wouldn’t break no matter how recklessly it was used.

Lior danced between the massive swings, his body weaving through openings.

And then—

With a single smooth motion, he slid into the hobgoblin’s guard.

His sword flashed upward—

SLASH!!

A deep gash tore across the hobgoblin’s chest.

Lior dashed into the clearing, heading straight for the goblin shamans.

If they were leading the ritual, then taking them down should disrupt whatever was happening.

“First one down.”

A single slash severed the first shaman’s head.

The remaining two gawked in horror, their instinctual fear driving them to flee.

But Lior was already moving—

“You’re not getting away.”

His blade pierced the back of the second shaman, cutting off its panicked escape.

The third shaman, however, managed to slip away, ducking behind the crowd of goblins.

And just like that—

Lior found himself completely surrounded.

“Tch. Looks like I’ll have to deal with these guys first.”

The final shaman, despite its obvious fear, refused to abandon the ritual.

It clutched its staff tightly, choosing to chant feverishly instead of running.

Lior frowned.

“It’s desperate enough to keep going, even while I’m killing its allies?”

“That can’t be a good sign.”

He needed to cut down the remaining goblins quickly—

But there were dozens of them.

Maybe close to a hundred.

“Fine. Let’s finish this fast.”

The horde charged all at once, their crude weapons swinging wildly.

But to Lior, their attacks were slow.

Predictable.

He moved like a shadow in the wind, weaving between their strikes effortlessly.

Not a single attack landed—

And each time a goblin missed, Lior’s blade met its mark.

“They’re just fast enough to be annoying, but not enough to be a real threat.”

“And they don’t even realize their mistake.”

Even though they had numbers, the goblins were playing right into his hands.

Lior had spent a lifetime fighting monstrous beings in Drag Machina.

Against those creatures, a single mistake meant instant death.

So he had learned—

To observe. To predict. To strike only when necessary.

The goblins never stood a chance.

“They don’t even realize they’re already dead.”

One by one, they fell.

Their bodies collapsed in heaps, each felled by a single, precise strike.

And with every kill—

The horde grew more frantic, their movements sloppier.

Lior felt no urgency.

His eyes scanned their magic flow, reading their every movement before they even made them.

The outcome was decided from the start.

“I can see it all.”

“It doesn’t matter how many of you there are.”

“You’re already done.”

But then—

A deep, guttural roar rumbled through the chamber.

“Here comes the boss.”

The floor trembled as heavy footsteps approached.

From the darkened depths of the ruins, a towering figure emerged.

A hulking beast, nearly twice Lior’s height, its muscled frame dwarfing the other goblins.

A hobgoblin.

And not just any hobgoblin—

A chieftain, wielding a massive silver blade.

“Mithril? This thing has good taste.”

Hobgoblins were far more dangerous than their smaller counterparts.

They were smarter, stronger, and far more aggressive.

Unlike regular goblins, who relied on numbers, a hobgoblin could fight alone and still be a threat.

And this one had a weapon worthy of a seasoned warrior.

Lior’s golden eyes glowed faintly, narrowing as he evaluated the fight ahead.

“This will be fun.”

The hobgoblin lunged, swinging its mithril sword in a wide arc.

The sheer weight behind the attack was enough to cleave a man in two.

Lior, of course, dodged easily—

But the blade’s impact left a deep gash in the stone floor.

“Damn. If that had hit, I’d be paste.”

The hobgoblin sneered, as if mocking him.

It knew.

It understood that Lior’s strikes weren’t strong enough to cut deep.

Lior’s earlier attack had barely drawn bl00d, and the hobgoblin was aware of it.

Which meant—

“I need to use Laura’s technique.”

The Hazanryu sword style relied on bursting magic into a strike at the last possible moment.

Lior had seen Laura do it countless times—

Now it was his turn.

He took a slow, steady breath.

Then, in one clean motion, he raised his sword high—

BOOM!

A shockwave split the air as Lior brought his blade down.

A perfectly executed Hazanryu strike.

And this time—

It worked.

The hobgoblin’s chest split open, bl00d gushing like a fountain.

The massive beast stumbled backward, collapsing with a final, heavy thud.

Dead.

Lior exhaled.

“Could’ve been cleaner, but not bad for a first try.”

The remaining goblins panicked, scrambling to escape.

Lior let them go—

For now.

There was something more important to deal with.

“Shaman first, then the adventurer, then I’ll chase the stragglers.”

“So much to do…”

The last shaman was still there, chanting.

Sweat dripped from its brow, its trembling hands gripping its staff tightly.

But it never stopped.

Lior sighed.

“I don’t like killing defenseless enemies, but…”

“Nothing personal.”

A single stab to the throat.

The shaman slumped to the ground, motionless.

Now, onto the adventurer.

Lior ran to the altar, where the young woman was tied up.

Her clothes had been stripped, leaving her exposed and vulnerable.

It was… awkward.

He tried not to look, instead focusing on untying the ropes.

But not looking while undoing knots was proving more difficult than expected.

It took longer than it should have.

And because of that—

He didn’t notice the bl00d pooling on the ground.

Didn’t realize what it was touching.

Didn’t see the danger until it was too late.

The ritual circle ignited, glowing a deep, malevolent red.

And behind him—

The hobgoblin’s corpse began to move.

Squelch.

Its limbs twisted unnaturally, like a puppet with tangled strings.

Its body convulsed, rising into the air.

And then—

It changed.

Twisted.

Morphed.

The thing that emerged was no longer a goblin.

It was something else entirely.

Lanky.

Grotesque.

Winged.

And its glowing green eyes locked onto Lior.

Squelch.

A clawed hand shot forward.

And pierced straight through Lior’s chest.