Clay bounced around Stick like a bee buzzing around its flower of choice, looking for the perfect spot to land and begin consuming the nectar hidden inside. And Clay was as hungry as that bee. Cossack tried to warn the goblins of Clay landing and bouncing off of them, but the horde was preoccupied fighting the other mercenaries. If it were ordinary peasant, they could've easily overwhelmed them with numbers, but these were men of arms. Soldiers trained to fight were far harder to defeat.

Every time Clay bounces off a goblin, the sound of bones cracking could be heard through the cluttered sound of metal and stone clashing. But it wasn't just the goblins who are victims to Clay's foot. His men would also get used as his personal launching pad. "Officer Clay, you're hitting our men too!" One of the soldiers yelled, but he did not care.

The smell of blood and the cries of pain and anger began to swell around Clay, and it was making him thirstier for blood. Like a bullseye, Clay targeted the red goblin slamming his shoulder on Stick's back.

Stick's body fell to the ground and rolled on the dirt. "Give up and I might make your death quick and painless," Clay yelled, "Well, maybe not painless! Cakakaka!" Clay laughed, but he was going so fast that Stick could barely hear him. When Stick got on his knees, he noticed the sickle he used first to contain Clay in front of his feet.

Stick got back on his feet and brushed the dirt off his body. He grabbed his sickle and prepared to counter with his sickle. Clay continued bouncing around Stick, breaking every bone from every person he bounces off until he reached his desired speed. Then he launched towards Stick's back, but Stick knew he would attack his back again.

He turned his body and raised his sickle, shielding him from Clay's shoulder bash. The sickle's blades slipped through the Tungstree rope and stabbed through Clay's triceps. But the blade broke in half from Clay's weight and Stick could not stop the attack's inertia. Clay's shoulder slammed against his chest and sent him flying across the battlefield.

Fortunately, Clay stopped bouncing and rolled on the ground, crying from the pain. "You little red scrap!" He cried. The broken tip of the sickle blade dug its way in Clay's flesh but blood was running out like a waterfall. The rope acted as a bandage, stopping most of the bleeding. They were both on the ground while their opposing forces engaged in a neverending battle. But the battle slowly disappeared into white as Clay and Stick contemplate while their aching bodies lay on the dirt.

Clay turned around and, to his surprise, saw Korge, the little goblin he and his brother tortured earlier that day. Korge was coming at him with a dagger in his hand. The little goblin wanted vengeance for the suffering Clay has caused him, his brother, and now his father who was resting the ground.

Clay nearly used Korge's father, Arga, as a launching pad during Clay's bouncing rampage. And being a weak old goblin, Arga's bones would surely shatter and sending his body flying into the air like a doll and killing him. Fortunately, Cossack saw Clay's trajectory and acted as swiftly as possible to save the old goblin.

"Old man, Watch out!" Cossack yelled while running towards Arga. When he reached him, he held his tightly in his arms and blocked Clay's foot with his back. Clay kicked the two to the earth with the heavy thud catching the attention of Korge. When he looked at where the sound came from, he saw his father on the dirt motionless and the dam that kept his emotions in control burst open.

Korge lashed out against one of the injured soldiers, knocking him off his feet and stealing his dagger. And with a weapon as sharp as Clay's instruments of torture, he charged towards his villain, intending to stab in the back. But it did not go as planned.

Clay kicked the knife out of Korge's hands and delivered another kick across his chin. Korge dropped to his feet while his mind bounced back and forth against his skull. The world seemed to shake around him as he stumbles back on his feet. Korge stood up as straight as he could and glared at Clay's eyes. "Monster," he whispered under his nose before falling again.

Clay caught the goblin with the steel cap of his boot and raised his chin to face him. "Look at the grim expression you," he clicked his tongue, "Oh I wish I could cherish this moment, but you fucking goblins have ruined everything!"

Then a purple cloud exploded from behind Clay. The cloud wretched stench traveled up his nostril and attacked his sense of smell. A waterfall of tears came from his eyes, blinding him for a short duration, "Who fucking threw their shit at me!" Clay kicked Korge off his foot and turned around.

Stick was barely standing up, holding another glass bottle. It was his stink bombs he carried with him, and he only had two. "There's more where that came from." Stick did a wind up before throwing the bomb.

Clay kicked it, only for it to explode and release the same horrid stench. "I had enough of this!" Clay stomped his feet and consolidated his mana on his legs, then leaped to Stick.

Stick had his guard up to block Clay's kick. Clay spined his body and delivered the kick with his right foot, blowing Stick's defense away, and once Clay landed with his right foot, he turned his body and delivered a back kick with his left foot. The strike landed right on Stick's chest, breaking some of the rib cages.

His body landed on his back, and his heart began to palpitate from shock. "You think you could beat me with these tricks?" Clay said, "I am the wolf and you are the rabbit. And as the helpless rabbit, you die or hide. Fighting will only prolong the inevitable, although," Clay cracked a smile, "If you really want to suffer, I can oblige."

Stick heard all of this before, and he doesn't need to hear them again. He was not as big and strong as Rock, nor was he fast and agile as Smoke, and he was not genius and headstrong as Sun. But he had his own strengths because his mother believed it, and so did his brothers. Stick may not be a genius, but he was a planner, not fast but clever, and not strong or big, but his small size is advantageous for his abilities.

The fire inside Stick began to burn brightly as the memories of his mother flooded in his mind. And that one phrase continued to echo in mind and heart, "Your strong... So don't call yourself weak." Stick jumped back on his feet as the blue flame coursing through his veins exploded out from him and burying his body under the dancing flames.

"What the?" Clay stood in front of the tall blue flames as its height overshadows him. And emerging from the flame was the silhouette not of a goblin, but of a beast.

Clay took the initiative, delivering a high kick across the pyre but Stick's silhouette ducked, avoiding the attack. Stick countered with a sweep kick making Clay fall on his side. Clay rolled on his back and jumped back on his feet, and so did Stick.

On the way, Clay clenched his jaw and wind back his head and delivered a devasting headbutt on Stick's forehead. The impact was strong enough to blow the fire away, revealing the true form of Stick.

"Woah!" The goblins, the mercenaries, and dark elves said in unison.

The body that was consumed by the fire was not a goblin but a greenish beastkin. His short hair grew long and turned brown, and his cat-like ears were pronounced. Stick had a tail swaying back and forth and he had a canine as large as a lion's canine and feathers growing in the back of his neck. And he was no longer short as he now stood nearly as tall as Clay. And his eyes were that of a predator. "What happened to the red goblin that could barely reach past my hips?" Clay while staring at Stick in dismay.

"He's standing right here!" Stick kicked Clay in the balls, making cry like a little girl, then he grabbed Clay's body and raised him to the air. "It's over now!" Stick turned Clay's body sideways and dropped him to the earth.

Clay's body penetrated the ground and dug itself deep, leaving his legs protruding for everyone to see. "Did he just shove Officer Clay underground?" One of the soldiers asked.

"Yeah, he did." Another replied.

"Everyone retreat!" The mercenaries ran back inside the camp, hoping to seek refuge behind their walls. "We need to warn the others of the goblins attack."

Meanwhile, the goblins and dark elves cheered Stick and his victory while Clay's limp body was buried under the dirt. Only Cossack did not cheer, as he was still worried about Artio. "We have no time to celebrate. We need to go after them."

"Relax, Cossack, They're not getting away," Stick reassured him. And sure enough, when the mercenaries entered through the gate, they saw a scene far worst than what they had gone through. In front of them were two outsiders standing over the pile of their unconscious comrades.