Chapter 21: Goblin Shaman
Astrael crouched low behind the large rock, his sharp eyes scanning the goblin camp below. Smoke coming from the fires, the smell of roasting meat drifted through the cavern.
No matter how he looked at it, a direct confrontation would mean certain death.
He leaned his back against the rock wall, silently cursing. Even with his stat boosts and new abilities, Astrael knew this wasn’t a battle he could brute-force his way through.
Then, something caught his eye.
A thin patch of blue moss grew along the cavern walls, softly glowing and releasing a strange, sharp scent that reminded him of mint and soil.
A thought clicked.
Astrael moved toward the moss, crouching low. He scraped a large handful into his palm, its texture cold and slimy. Without hesitation, he smeared it across his arms, chest, and face, making sure to coat himself as thoroughly as possible.
"If this hides my scent from their noses... then maybe I have a shot," he whispered under his breath.
Sticking close to the shadows, he began circling the camp’s perimeter with quiet, calculated steps. Each movement was deliberate, his body hugging the cavern’s jagged edges. He avoided open spaces, instead slipping through natural crevices and weaving between stalagmites.
He took note of everything: goblin patrol routes, their reaction to noise, the way they snarled at one another, the places where they dropped their guard. It took hours—two days, in fact. During that time, he survived on the brown mushrooms from his inventory, watching and waiting.
The camp was split into layers of disorder: makeshift tents, firepits, small cages, bone piles, and a central command area. And at the heart of it all—his goal—the largest tent, where the boss likely waited.