They had adapted again.
Unlike their fallen comrades, these goblins no longer waited for individual strikes to land. Instead, they spread out further, adjusting their distance to avoid being lined up for another sweeping attack. The largest goblin their apparent leader gripped its crude axe tighter and gave a guttural growl, a signal for coordinated movement.
Aaron exhaled, narrowing his eyes. They're learning faster than I expected.
Then, they charged.
Two goblins rushed from the left, weapons raised to strike in tandem, while another dashed in from behind. The leader and a fourth goblin remained at a measured distance, observing, waiting for an opportunity to exploit any weakness.
Aaron moved instantly. He refused to let them dictate the pace.
With a sharp step forward, he swung Gale Fang Cleave, channeling 400 chakra units into his strike. The invisible wind arcs cut through the air, splitting the first goblin's chest open before it had a chance to react.
The second goblin barely managed to twist away, avoiding a fatal cut but even that small evasion had cost it. Aaron snapped his wrist, redirecting his energy into a follow-up slash, catching the creature mid-step and cleaving through its torso.
Three remained.
The goblin behind him lunged, but Aaron was already moving. He twisted his body, lowering his stance, and drove his foot into its knee, forcing it off balance. With a swift motion, he thrust his wind-enhanced blade forward, skewering the creature before it could recover.
Only two left the leader and its last remaining soldier.
Aaron's breath steadied as he watched its stance shift. Without hesitation he killed the last elite goblin and then began to look at the leader that charged at him.
The Goblin Berserker's posture shifted it was no longer waiting, no longer observing. It was ready to strike.
Its crude axe gleamed under the dim dungeon light, raised high as its muscles tensed. The final goblin beside it flinched, uncertain, but the Berserker did not hesitate. This was a creature that thrived on raw brutality.
Aaron recognized the change instantly. This wasn't like the others. The Berserker was different faster, stronger, smarter. A foe designed to overwhelm challengers with sheer force.
Then, it moved.
The ground trembled beneath its charge, its speed unnatural for a creature of its size. Closing the gap in mere seconds, it swung its axe downward in a devastating arc, aimed directly at Aaron's head.
Aaron reacted on instinct. He didn't dodge he stepped in closer, into its range, disrupting its momentum.
The axe missed its intended target, crashing into the ground with a force that shattered the stone beneath their feet. But Aaron was already moving, twisting his body, channeling Gale Fang Cleave with 800 chakra units a strike meant to end this fight immediately.
The wind blade extended, near-invisible yet razor-sharp, as he aimed directly at the Berserker's exposed side.
Aaron's strike landed cleanly.
The razor-sharp wind blade extended, invisible yet merciless, cutting through the Goblin Berserker's exposed side with terrifying precision.
A deep gash tore through its flesh, carving from its ribs down to its hip. The creature's charge faltered instantly momentum shattered as pain surged through its body.
For the first time, the Berserker hesitated. Not just wounded crippled.
Aaron didn't stop. He refused to let it recover.
Before the beast could react, he pivoted on his heel, sending a second, follow-up slash toward its chest. The wind-enhanced strike split across its torso, carving deep into muscle and bone.
The Berserker staggered, its breath ragged, blood dripping to the dungeon floor in thick pools.
Its massive axe trembled in its grip. The creature's gaze, once fierce and unwavering, flickered with something rare fear.
Aaron exhaled sharply, his stance firm, his body aching but steady. This fight wasn't over yet but victory was now within reach.
The Goblin Berserker staggered, its breath ragged, blood pooling beneath its feet. Its monstrous body quivered not from exhaustion, but from rage.
Aaron remained firm, his stance unyielding, knowing a cornered beast is the most dangerous of all.
Then the Berserker roared.
The dungeon itself seemed to tremble at the sound. A primal, guttural cry of defiance, shaking the air with raw fury. It refused to fall.
Its trembling grip tightened around its axe, pulling it up with unnatural strength despite its deep wounds. The goblin's eyes burned, its pupils dilated its instincts had pushed it into a true berserk state.
One final desperate attempt to kill Aaron.
It lunged. Faster than before. Ignoring pain, ignoring logic, driven only by pure survival instinct.
Aaron reacted instantly. This wasn't just a counter it was a decisive end.
He planted his foot, channeling the last of his chakra into Gale Fang Cleave, pushing it beyond the threshold. 1000 chakra units maximum compression.
The wind howled around him, forming a single, massive blade the largest he had ever conjured.
The Goblin Berserker's axe came down in a final strike.
Aaron swung into it, his wind blade meeting the monster's weapon mid-air.
The moment of impact shattered the axe, splitting it cleanly in two. The force carried through, tearing into the Berserker's chest, cutting through muscle, boneeverything.
The creature froze. Its eyes widened. Then, its body split apart, torn by the sheer force of the wind-enhanced strike.
Silence followed.
Then the Goblin Berserker fell.
Aaron stood, panting, his body spent but victorious. He had conquered the dungeon.
Aaron took a slow breath, staring at the carnage surrounding him. His body ached, muscles trembling from strain, but the fight was over.
His clothes barely clung to him, more shreds than fabric torn, bloodstained, burned in places. His palms stung, skin split from gripping his weapon too tightly. Small trails of blood traced down his fingers, mixing with the thick green goblin fluid coating his arms.
The scent of battle lingered iron, sweat, death.
The dungeon remained eerily silent. No growls, no movement, only the faint echoes of his own breathing.
Aaron let out a quiet chuckle, more exhaustion than amusement. He had survived.
Not by luck, not by chance he had earned this victory, clawed it from the depths of a battle meant to end him.
And yet, deep inside, he knew this was only the beginning.