Dylan charged in.
No scream. No bravado. Just a swift step, then another. He lunged at the hobgoblin, axe raised.
The creature tried to swing its mace, but Dylan dove to the side, rolled through the mud, and sprang up in one fluid motion. His blade struck—a sharp, powerful blow. It bit into the giant's shoulder. The metal didn't sink in completely, but the impact forced the creature back a step.
"That should slow it down." Dylan thought. Any sane creature would panic at the sight of its own blood.
But he'd made a mistake: thinking this monster was sane.
Instead of panicking, a cold grin twisted the hobgoblin's lips. Its gaze shifted to Cliff, filled with a chilling hatred Dylan had only seen in soldiers who'd broken down at the front.
The beast readied another strike, struggling under the weight of its oversized weapon. Each movement seemed to cost it.
