“They should be awaiting us.”

At the pass through the Misty Mountains, Gandalf spoke.

“That was our arrangement.”

“That’s not guaranteed.” Garrett surveyed the terrain. It appeared exactly as it had during his previous visit, utterly unchanged.

“Well, even if they didn’t wait, with the heavy rain just now, they must’ve stopped somewhere to rest. While they rest, we’ll catch up.”

“Hmm?”

Gandalf suddenly halted and examined a cave nearby.

“This is the front porch of Goblin-town, an entrance the goblins deliberately constructed to waylay travelers. Due to their presence, this road has been abandoned for ages. I once considered persuading one of the stone giants to seal this place, but they’re so difficult to communicate with that I couldn’t manage it.”

The well-traveled wizard explained the location’s history as he spoke, stepping forward and crouching to examine the ground.

“The mechanism here shows signs of recent activation… This is bad, Thorin and the others must have been captured! That’s troublesome indeed…”

“Should we go in and rescue them?” Garrett advanced, examining the surroundings, tapping walls and testing the ground.

“Don’t waste your efforts. These goblins of Goblin-town are cunning. Their entrance can’t be opened from outside.”

Gandalf rose and said, “But I know of a rear passage. Perhaps we can…”

“Maybe we can just dig our way in.”

Garrett pulled out a fully-upgraded diamond pickaxe and said, “Just point me in the right direction.”

“You’ll see. If I don’t break their front door, I’m not worthy of this pickaxe.”

Gandalf stroked his beard and took a deep breath. He had nearly forgotten what this fellow was capable of.

“This way.”

Clang, clang, clang, clang…

The diamond pickaxe moved so swiftly in Garrett’s hands it became a blur. A neat, two-meter-high rectangular tunnel extended rapidly underground.

Garrett excavated ahead while Gandalf followed behind, holding a torch to provide light.

“Hold.”

After digging for some time, Gandalf suddenly spoke, requesting Garrett to pause.

“We should be close. Let me take a look inside first.”

He withdrew his staff and struck the ground.

A translucent pulse of light burst from his form, expanding outward and passing through all obstacles, extending ever farther. The pulse penetrated rock layers and debris, washing over a large group of goblins within the cavern, none of whom noticed, continuing with what they were doing.

For once, he had employed a wide-range detection spell.

Before arriving in Middle-earth, the Istari operated under many restrictions, one being to avoid revealing too much divine power before mortals. That was why Gandalf typically relied upon sword and staff.

But in Garrett’s presence, that constraint seemed much looser.

Of course, only marginally so, if fully unleashed, he could probably cleave an entire mountain.

In the ancient Elder Days’ unrestricted War of Wrath, an entire continent had been sunken beneath the waves.

“Just there. I see them.”

He pointed, saying, “Dig fifty paces in that direction, then downward.”

Clang, clang, clang, clang…

Garrett continued wielding the pickaxe, breaking through stone section by section. Soon, he reached Gandalf’s indicated position.

Clack.

He broke through another stone segment, and light began filtering from below.

They had arrived at the heart of Goblin-town.

He poked his head in and saw a corpulent figure seated upon a crude throne, interrogating thirteen dwarves surrounded on all sides.

Their weapons had been confiscated and lay scattered upon the ground.

After disarming them, the goblins began searching their possessions, and quickly produced a pile of silver utensils and candlesticks engraved with “Crafted in Rivendell.”

“Made in Rivendell during the Second Age, what junk. Not even worth giving away.”

The Great Goblin casually discarded the artifacts that were likely over three thousand years old. Elven-crafted items held no appeal for his kind. As for how those items came to be there… Some dwarves had taken them as “souvenirs” from Rivendell.

Clearly, his acquisition methods were more efficient than Garrett’s, he didn’t even need to break things to claim them.

“Well, well, well, look who we have here. Is this not Thorin Oakenshield?” After examining the spoils, the Great Goblin suddenly noticed Thorin among the dwarves, and his massive face split into a malicious grin.

“I know your head’s worth a fortune, dead or alive.”

“Send word to Azog that the Dwarf-king is in my custody. Have him bring my reward.”

A goblin was dispatched to deliver the message.

Just as the Great Goblin prepared to continue tormenting the dwarves, a goblin retrieved a confiscated sword from the ground and unsheathed it for inspection.

“AHHH!”

The moment he drew it, he shrieked and cast the blade aside in terror. The Great Goblin glanced down, and recoiled as well, stumbling backward and accidentally crushing a smaller goblin underfoot.

“It’s the Biter! The blade that slit the throats of over a thousand of our kind!”

Whoosh.

All the surrounding goblins immediately backed away, forming a wide circle around the sword. None of them dared to get anywhere near it.

Though its original wielder had perished long ago, the blade still radiated its lingering menace.

“You craven wretches!” the Great Goblin roared in furious disbelief.

“Torture them! Beat them senseless! I’ll flay them alive and take their heads!”

Crack!

A goblin immediately raised a whip and began lashing the dwarves. Another tackled a dwarf to the ground, pummeling him with fists; yet another raised a jagged blade, prepared to strike without mercy.

“We’re going down!”

Seeing the dwarves in peril, Gandalf leapt down without hesitation.

The height was enough to make even Garrett, who possessed fall-damage reduction, think twice. But the wizard didn’t hesitate, he simply jumped.

Garrett quickly consumed a golden apple.

“Then I’ll—”

BOOM—!

Before he could leap, blinding white light erupted within the cavern. A tremendous shockwave exploded outward from Gandalf’s position, hurling debris in all directions. A whole crowd of goblins was launched skyward as if struck by a tempest, tumbling into the depths below.

Even the Great Goblin, though farther away, was caught in the blast. His sturdy throne of metal and stone was instantly shattered, and his massive form was sent rolling across the ground, howling in agony.

THUD!

The white light faded.

Now, aside from Gandalf, none remained standing. The nearby goblins had vanished without trace; the rest groveled on the ground, cowering from the explosion.

Even the massive Great Goblin had no choice but to lie flat on his belly.

Thorin opened his eyes.

“Gandalf…”

The wizard drew Glamdring, the Ring of Fire on his hand faintly glowing.

“Take up your arms, fight!”

Hope rekindled in the dwarves’ hearts. They thrust aside the nearby goblins, reclaimed their weapons, and charged forward, following Gandalf into battle.

“That sword, that’s the Beater!” the Great Goblin recognized Gandalf’s weapon.

To be fair, as a king among goblins and commander of Misty Mountain orcs, he possessed considerable knowledge.

He even recognized blades that Gandalf himself didn’t know by name. It was difficult to say who had dwelt in Middle-earth longer. Regardless, orcs possessed extended lifespans, Azog himself had to be at least two centuries old.

Recovering, the Great Goblin raised his staff, crowned with a skull, and furiously commanded his goblins to pursue.

After that initial devastating strike, Gandalf unleashed no more powerful spells, perhaps due to the number of people present, or some other constraint. Instead, he simply wielded Glamdring and led the dwarves in their breakout.

A horde of goblins quickly gave chase. After the initial shock subsided, they swarmed from all directions, above, below, front, back, everywhere, surrounding them in a deafening cacophony.

No matter one’s strength, how could fourteen souls hope to fight thousands of goblins?

The group quickly found themselves overwhelmed.

But just then, a terrifying dark figure dropped from above, cleaving through the air with a gleaming sword. With a single stroke, he carved out a vacuum around himself.

“Aah!”

The Great Goblin stumbled backward once more.

“It’s him! That accursed human, bane of our people!”

Garrett casually swept his blade. The weapon passed across a goblin’s neck, freezing the creature in place. Its eyes darted frantically, but its body no longer obeyed.

He gently tapped the goblin’s head.

Plop.

A head fell to the ground.

The sword was simply too sharp.

Most of the time, its damage far exceeded twelve points, it could easily cleave enemies in half with one strike when they lacked armor.

At the narrow tunnel entrance, he stood alone, blocking the passage. Every sweep of his sword sent goblins flying like blazing projectiles, crashing into those behind and toppling them in waves.

This was the power of Sweeping Edge III, every attack hit a wide area. No matter how many came, he cut through them all.

He was starting to think about adding Knockback. When manifested in reality, perhaps they wouldn’t be as limited as in the game.

Behind him, the dwarves pressed forward, many couldn’t help but glance back.

Between Garrett and the rest of the company, not a single goblin stood. He had carved out a buffer zone with nothing but steel.

“Don’t look back, run while you can!” Gandalf urged them onward, though he himself couldn’t resist stealing glances.

The Great Goblin, heavily guarded by his minions, glared at the sword in Garrett’s hand.

That blade, so chilling it froze his blood, was unfamiliar. He had never seen it, never heard tell of it. But from this moment, he would never forget it.

Garrett gently caressed the gleaming edge, then regarded the group of goblins hesitating before him.

“Come, try and get past me.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep