Most ordinary attuned relied on their weapon to act as a focus. But some with more financial support could afford the very expensive materials required to have the focus tattooed onto their body. Elves were the only humanoid exception to this because they were one of the very few races capable of casting spells without a focus. The others all being magical beasts.

In fact, innate spellcasting was an elf’s defining feature. Any humanoid race with the innate ability to channel mana is mutated by it to become similar in appearance, creating a new breed of elf. This was the origin of the myth that elves were once human in the distant past. The myth was debunked by the existence of Grandmagus. Individuals that could cast magic without a focus who are not elves.

The unnamed goblin crossed the arena sand at a leisurely jog. He was only half the height of the human in heavy armor with mana tattoos. Any one in their right mind would flee when faced with an attuned warrior, but the goblin was unperturbed as he recalled his lessons on arcane focus history. He was limited by his small goblin body. He couldn’t access his raw and untapped mana reserves laying dormant like a sleeping dragon.

All of his knowledge and experience on attunement was useless without a focus or mana tattoos. He would need to rely on his peerless sword skills to counter the mana amplification. Using only his meager goblin strength to overwhelm the superior human physique. The goblin yawned as he neared the first veteran.

The man noticed his approach at the last minute. He had been keeping a close watch on the phantom cat stalking the goblin mage. It had become uncertain and retreated until its back was against the magic dome. It was a standoff between man, goblin, and phantom cat as they all eyed each other warily. None were willing to make the first move. The veteran turned to face the goblin, he smiled in contemptuous amusement at his approach.

“Haha, you little goat-fucker. Do you think that you can win this fight?” the man mocked.

“Goat-fucker? That’s a new one, but I like it. I’ll have you know that I’d stand here and let you kill me if I ever even considered fucking a goat. Now, stop fucking around and raise your sword,” the goblin replied indifferently.

The man laughed at his response, obediently raising his sword as he dropped into a combat stance. The unnamed goblin felt a tingle on the back of his neck. The veteran wasn’t reckless. He took the goblin seriously as he channeled mana into his sword to sharpen the blade.

“Let’s see what you’ve got that makes you so confident. Come,” The man said as he beckoned with one hand before taking a double-handed grip on the hilt.

The goblin grinned as he began to circle toward the outside of the man’s stance, away from his dominant hand. He was twirling his crude iron shortsword as he sauntered closer. The man adjusted his stance to follow his movement. Suddenly he lunged toward the goblin as it advanced within attack range. He overextended his weight to lean down to swing at the shorter goblin. That was a mistake. It was apparent that the man was unfamiliar with fighting smaller opponents. The man’s blade moved with superhuman speed. But it was too easy for the unnamed goblin to anticipate his target.

He took a half-step while shifting his weight onto his rear foot, lifting his chin slightly. The blade missed its target by less than a finger width. The man’s eyes widened in surprise, quickly changing to horror as momentum carried his blade too far to recover his defense in time. The goblin stepped behind the man to strike at the back of his armored knee. The man was forced into a kneeling position with his arms extended to prevent himself landing face-first.

The goblin’s eyes narrowed as his expression became tight. He took no pleasure in killing men. His crude iron short sword flashed in a fluid motion. The man’s face contained a mix of emotions, fear, shock, denial, as it tumbled through the air to land on the sand before rolling to a stop. The crowd was stunned silent. Only the master could be heard in the distance screaming orders at his guardsmen from somewhere outside the stands.

The man’s headless corpse collapsed into the sand with a thud. Blood was spraying in a large arc around the wound as the heart continued to beat. There wasn’t even a drop of blood on the goblin after he executed the first attuned veteran. He tossed aside the crude short sword and replaced it with the man’s superior quality steel hand-and-a-half sword.

He didn’t know how to fight against a goblin. Well, few do. Killing goblins is usually as simple as butchering chickens. They only become an issue when there’s a swarm of the fuckers. His sword is better than mine. It’s only a bastard sword, but it feels like a claymore in comparison to my small stature. It’s been a long time since I’ve used this style, about two hundred years or so. This should be interesting.

Too bad that it’s not a focus, I wouldn’t even have to worry about that annoying barrier if I could harness my mana. Not that a human focus would work for me, mind you. But a goblin can dream, can’t he? Whatever those hags did when they cursed me, they magnified my mana reserves exponentially. Welp, I better go save that little goat-fucker if I want to have any chance in holding that elf hostage.

The goblin sighed as he slung the bastard sword up to rest the flat of the blade on his shoulder. He started to walk toward the goblin mage standing off against the remaining attuned warrior and the phantom cat. The reddish-brown goblin’s expression became filled with relief as he tried to plead with his eyes.

“Stop giving me those puppy eyes. I’m not doing this out of goodwill. The only good goblin is a dead goblin,” the goblin said while picking his nose with a clawed finger.

“B-but aren’t you a goblin?” a spectator asked from the stands.

The unnamed goblin paused his picking, removing his finger and flicking away its contents in disgust. He hesitated as he processed what they had said.

“Oh, right. Sometimes I forget. It still applies though. Because I am very, very bad,” the goblin responded with an evil grin.

He hefted the bastard sword as a predatory gleam entered his eyes. The second attuned finally took notice of him and cursed after seeing the decapitated corpse of his companion. The phantom cat was edging away slowly while trying to avoid his attention. The goblin mage had a grudge against the feline and chose this moment to exact revenge. The arcane runes shimmered with mana as it prepared to cast a spell.

The phantom cat hissed with its hackles raised and lithely jumped atop the transport cart. It panicked after realizing that it had made itself an easier target. The cage with the phantom cat still on top of it was encased in fire. The unnamed goblin could feel the heat as he scratched the back of his neck. The flames ended as the goblin mage collapsed in exhaustion. The iron latticework of the transport cart glowed red-hot as the last of straw inside it’s flames died out.