Virgil was exerting every effort to land a hit on the goblin, but to no avail; the enemy was simply too fast. Each time Virgil managed to regain his footing, the goblin launched a grenade, thwarting his momentum. This foe was undeniably skilled, employing a style of combat that was distinctively different from the Halberd Knight Virgil had encountered previously.

Complicating matters further, the riders were circling, poised to exploit any sign of weakness to support their leader. Virgil found himself in a precarious situation and knew he needed to act. Thus, he made a daring decision—to make a run for it.

As the goblin prepared for another attack, Virgil summoned one of his warriors to absorb the impact, giving him the chance to dash towards the enemy camp. It was undoubtedly a risky maneuver, yet in the dense forest, he was an easy target for the goblin assassin and his grenades.

Virgil anticipated that the camp would be largely unguarded. If not, he was prepared to face death and start over.

He reached the camp, skillfully evading an arrow shot at him from the outposts. Beyond that, only a few unmounted goblins were present in the camp, who clumsily lobbed grenades his way. Virgil effortlessly deflected them with his staff; their throwing technique was sluggish and unimpressive compared to the assassin's. He then leaped over a barricade and ascended the outpost tower with surprising agility, quickly overcoming the archers. Just as he was about to leap away, a grenade struck the back of the tower, catapulting him to the ground.

The timing and precision of the throw were impeccable. The assassin had caught up.

Virgil somehow managed to break his fall in time, but while airborne, his options were limited, meaning his landing was anticipated by the assassin who struck him with daggers just as he hit the ground, causing him to roll across it. He had already lost more than half of his HP.

Dante was nervously watching the battle unfold from the comfort of his throne. Sure, he sat with 

his legs crossed over the arm of the throne chair while munching on some fried potato chips, but don't be misled by his relaxed posture; he was anxious.

Dante evaluated the resources at his disposal: 1 SP and a little more than 100,000 TC. The choice for the SP was clear; Virgil needed a speed boost, making Agility Infusion the obvious pick. But then again, would 5 extra points in Finesse turn the tide of the battle? Probably not.

Virgil held a significant advantage in Might over his opponent; Dante was confident that one well-timed hit would suffice to gain the upper hand. The challenge was landing that initial strike.

After some thought, Dante devised a potential strategy. He wasn't certain it would work, but it was all they had. The downside was that it represented a significant gamble; if it failed, they would find themselves in a difficult financial position.

Virgil rolled back and swiftly parried the following attack. His link with Dante had already informed him of the new strategy they were to implement. His master had laid out the plan; now, it was up to him to execute it flawlessly.

The initial step involved pulling back the level 1 skeletons to introduce a layer of chaos within the enemy camp. Even if their contribution was merely to complicate the battlefield, that in itself would be valuable. The goblin camp, now swarming with low-level skeletons, found its order disrupted, creating openings Virgil could exploit.

The second strategy was to use the environment to his advantage—namely, the tents and goblin warriors. By maneuvering around the camp, Virgil made it difficult for the assassin to use his grenades without risking his own forces. This tactic not only limited the assassin's mobility but also his willingness to deploy his most dangerous weapon, given the potential for friendly fire in the cramped and chaotic camp.

As Virgil executed these tactics, the assassin found himself increasingly constrained. Forced to navigate through a disordered camp filled with confused allies and unexpected obstacles, his ability to launch effective attacks dwindled. Each attempt to strike at Virgil was met with evasion or was indirectly thwarted by the skeletons, which, though weak, served as an effective distraction and shield.

The goblin assassin felt the tide of desperation rising as his soldiers, one by one, succumbed to the relentless assault. He was at his wits' end, unable to fathom letting this peculiar skeleton conquer the camp—a sanctuary entrusted to him by his elder brother, nestled in a location chosen for its safety and seclusion. Now, faced with an attacking force that seemed insignificant on paper, and a lone, bizarre skeleton wielding a staff wreaking havoc, the situation had escalated beyond his control. The urgency to act, to reclaim the camp and prevent further losses, was palpable. The thought of disappointing his brother weighed heavily on him, especially given his status as a White Goblin—a symbol of strength and leadership within their ranks.

Driven by a mix of duty and desperation, the assassin resolved to take a gamble on a riskier, more decisive strike. This move, he surmised, would outpace the enemy, leaving him no room to react, no chance to counter. Gathering all his strength, the goblin lunged forward, his attack honed by the certainty of his speed and the element of surprise.

Yet, the unexpected unfolded before his eyes. The skeleton, his adversary, moved with an alacrity previously unseen. How was this possible? The goblin was confident in his evaluation of the enemy's capabilities, yet this sudden turn of events left him bewildered. Had he, in his confidence, overlooked something crucial? The realization dawned on him with chilling clarity—had he inadvertently walked into a trap?

And so, the third stage—angering the enemy assassin—was successful. As the strike drew close, Virgil's eyes shone with a different light. The attack was fast, faster than before, but it left the assassin wide open. The assassin was confident that Virgil wouldn't be able to react quickly enough to take advantage of that gap in his defense.

But then Virgil used it: Agility Infusion. The skill had been upgraded twice since its last activation (the one in effect up until now), offering an extra ten Finesse as it was used again, for a total of 20 added Finesse. For this moment, Dante had splurged a whole 100,000 TC on buying an extra SP for the skill. Because 5 was not a big difference, but a difference of 10 stats at this stage was a whole other story.

Virgil's staff moved quicker than the assassin's body and struck him down fiercely before the latter managed to hit him with the daggers. The relative speed between them and the weight behind the blow caused great damage to the goblin as he crashed heavily against the ground. Virgil followed up with another strike, pushing him further back as the assassin was now caught in Virgil’s web and would not be easily let go.

Virgil’s superior strength pushed the goblin back each time, who could do little more than defend himself. If the battle continued like this, his fall was certain.

"This cannot be, am I... about to die?" The White Goblin's thoughts ran rampant. He had never felt this level of distress before. Being the spoiled one in his family, he was always taken care of by his brother. Being stationed in this remote iron mine, despite being a White Goblin, already spoke volumes about how sheltered his life had been. If not for the family tradition, he wouldn’t have been allowed to leave their home.

And with that mentality, the thought of death was extremely foreign to him. Sure, he was surprised his camp was attacked in the first place, but upon seeing the opponent, he was confident in his victory. He had passed the family’s first training and was a White Goblin, nothing less. He deemed the slow skeleton would be easily dealt with. Despite the skeleton's staff technique being proficient and carrying weight, to him, it was just too slow. He was a 'sitting duck,' as his family used to describe the skeletons from the kingdom's army, though they had no idea what a duck actually was.

He had to do something. He could not allow this to continue. So, with the clouded mind of a sheltered child, he decided to sacrifice the camp if necessary. He was far more important than this camp. He picked up two grenades as he rolled, avoiding a hit from the staff, and threw them forward. The grenades exploded, and one of the tents caught on fire.

He was determined to kill the staff-wielder, even if it meant burning down the camp with him.

In the fleeting, ghastly span of a heartbeat, she found herself a spectator to the chilling execution of Thaleia, violently sundered by the Minotaur's relentless axe. With a singular, barbarous sweep, the creature unleashed an onslaught of raw, unbridled ferocity, its blade tearing through sinew and skeleton with horrifying precision. The sharp steel completed its ghastly trajectory, rendering Thaleia's once proud Amazonian physique into a harrowing symbol of the beast's brutality. Dark, viscous blood burst forth in a grim spectacle, staining the ancient walls of the arena with the grim tale of the hunt's savagery. The air carried the grotesque display of Thaleia's bifurcated form being hurled in a macabre dance of death, her remains meeting the ground with a sound that reverberated through the arena's somber passageways. Her gaze, wide with a mixture of fear and disbelief, imprinted the dreadful scene into the recesses of her mind.

"So, should I head out now?" the Amazonian asked.

Alice merely looked at her, the body still intact, wondering how fickle fate could be. She pondered how Thaleia would feel upon seeing her body destroyed in such a manner. How would she react if she witnessed her own death?

"No. If you go now, you will die."

Virgil weaved through the chaos of the camp, narrowly evading the grenades hurled by the assassin with a grim determination. The goblin was alarmingly adept, his ability to anticipate Virgil's maneuvers and launch explosives with lethal precision and velocity was uncanny. Virgil observed with a cold realization that the enemy had succumbed to a frenzied, berserk state, indifferent to the collateral damage inflicted upon his own ranks or the destruction of the camp itself.

Yet, in this maelstrom of madness, Virgil found himself holding a grim advantage. With his increased Finesse, he could now timely react to the strikes and swiftly counterattack. Even if they exchanged an equal number of blows, Virgil’s superior strength meant that each of his blows inflicted much more damage on the goblin, and his enhanced resilience allowed him to sustain more hits. It was in this dire situation that the assassin, seemingly driven mad by the prospect of his own demise, bellowed:

"Embrace the darkness, let it seep into your bones! Sacrifice your spirits, chain them to the abyss! Drag this abomination into the endless void that hungers for us all! In the name of the White Goblin, I command your existence forfeit, a tribute to our cause!" This decree, laden with the chilling embrace of death, was the cry of a being who had danced too close to the edge of sanity, teetering on the precipice of the abyss, and was now calling out from the depths of despair and madness.

The remaining goblins in the camp, driven into a frenzy, went completely mad. They clutched their grenades in their bony hands and charged directly at Virgil in a sort of kamikaze attack. It was complete chaos and an abandonment of sanity. Any semblance of intelligence they possessed was utterly lost in this act of sacrifice.

Virgil found himself in a tough spot, having to summon a skeleton to cover for him or use the elements of the camp, which was already mostly ablaze, to outmaneuver the enemies lunging at him. The remaining outpost tower was on the verge of collapse, and all that remained were several goblins and a couple of hounds, yet even this was enough to give Virgil a difficult time.

The assassin constantly kept him in check, using the distractions provided by his allies to inflict more damage on Virgil, who was already on the brink of death. A light shone through his eyes. He had lost everything here, but as long as he could take down this opponent and preserve his own existence, it was worth it. He could see it—one more strike was all it would take. And so, he lunged forward, just as the last of his allies was blown away in a kamikaze attack.

The assassin threw one last grenade to limit Virgil's movements and reached him with his dagger. The opponent was attacking him too, but he was confident that his daggers would strike first, marking the end of the battle. But then, his daggers made contact, yet…the skeleton was still standing.