Chief Galgo, the Chief of the Central Clan, which was the largest clan in the Dark Lands of Mir, gripped his sword tightly as charged after the Spear of Touval with conviction in his eyes and intensity in his steps.

  He could feel the power wafting off of the woman before him. He could feel clearly that there was a difference and out here he would be outclassed in terms of pure power, but none of that took anything away from the task at hand.

  The Chief knew deep down in his heart even Chief Rogur would not be able to stand toe to toe with this woman. All of them only became Tier Seven fairly recently, and even if their King was able to forcefully evolve them to the Eighth Tear, it would be some time before something like that could happen.

  They were far away from the peak of the Seventh Tier so there wasn’t necessarily a better option nor would Chief Gago be on the lookout for such an option.

  He was alive with his weapon in his hand, his King’s orders in his mind and in his heart, stepping up to fight this fearsome woman was his duty and he will see it done.

  But As always, when it came to reality, things didn't always go quite as planned. Chief Galgo stepped up with his sword at the ready and immediately began a battle to the death with the Spear of Touval.

  Though even if it was that type of battle, he didn't immediately go begin carelessly using skills, and slinging mana around without care for his surroundings, but the Spear of Touval did do any of that either, though it was for far different reasons from those of Chief Galgo.

  The reason the Chief didn't use any skills was because they were currently behind the front and in the midst of an array of other Goblins. Using any type of powerful skills and abilities here if he could help it would only cause more harm than good when it came to protecting his fellow Goblins.

  That was his reason. For the Spear of Touval her reasoning was a bit more pragmatic.

  She felt there was simply no need to use any of her more powerful skills to defeat the enemy before her. This wasn’t arrogance. This wasn’t ignorance. This wasn't cockiness. This was simple and unfortunately for the Chief and the Goblins, the truth. Chief Galgo was not her equal.

  His sword whizzed and flashed, and her spear reacted in kind. Moving as though it was a limb and not a ramrod straight tool taller than even Chief Galgo. It bent. It flexed. It advanced. It retreated. It ambushed, it curved, it was stealthy, it was everything that you would expect from a master of the spear. From being the aggressor to being on the on the defensive, Chief Galgo was immediately put under pressure.

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  But he did not worry. He did not show cowardice. He just continued to fight, continued to battle, swinging his sword this way and that, but not finding any room for advancement. While on the other hand the Spear of Touval was expressionless as she continued to swing her spear. The woman was relentless and powerful. She was everything that she thought she was.

  Wounds quickly began to pile up on Chief Galgo, and unlike the battle with Chief Rogur and Grafai, these ones were more than just surface wounds. There were real and truly dangerous to anyone who was receiving them. His shoulder was pierced, his thigh was gashed, his abdomen was pierced straight through from the front to the back.

  The wounds continued to pile up at an alarming rate, but there was no help coming. There was no room for further errors and wounds, yet they continued to pile up. He was bleeding profusely, but all he did was continue to grit his teeth and continue to fight because he had no other choice.

  This was a battle he had to fight. This was something he had to do. This was his life. This was his duty. He was a Chief. He served the king. And he would want nothing else but to fight and die in service of said King, in service of his clan and in service of his people.

  Though unfortunately for the Central Clan’s Chief, that reality was getting closer and closer with each exchange with the Spear of Touval.

  But Chief Galgo would not die on someone else's terms. He would serve his King, yes. He would serve his kind, yes. He would serve his people, yes. But his death, unless explicitly ordered by his King, would be on own his terms.

  Chief Cargo yelled out. “BRAKUN!! BRAKUN!! BRAKUN!!” He yelled out. He screamed out, he bellowed out. Brakun, Brakun. It was the old tongue of the Goblins. Of course, this was for no one else but his Goblins, and while those at Tier Seven and above could understand different meanings from different languages, even if they didn't understand them explicitly, there were some languages that were either impossible to decipher or took a bit longer to understand.

  The old tongue of the Goblins was one such language. The other Goblins understood, but it took a second for the Spear of Touval to understand. The Goblins began to retreat rapidly, and by the time the Spear of Touval understood what was happening, it was too late.

  Like Rogu once did to protect and secure the escape of his King. Chief Galgo was, now doing the same.

  But the difference was remarkable. Rogu was a General yes, but a Tier Five general. Chief Galgo was a Chief of the Seventh Tier. That level of gap in power was not one to be taken lightly.

  He ignited the mana in his heart and roared out. A ferocious war that seemed to shake even someone as powerful as the Spear of Touval. She could feel. The intensity in his roar, the conviction in his shout.

  “FOR THE KING! THE CENTRAL CLAN, AND ALL OF GOBLIN KIND! FORGIVE ME MY KING, THIS ONE SHALL GO ON FIRST!!”

  And just like that. Chief Galgo self-destructed.