Transmigrated As An SSS Ranked MILF Overlord-Chapter 102: Unravel

A deafening slash tore through the air, aimed straight for Fiona.

She had been kneeling, dazed, broken—but at that moment, Steve’s voice cracked through the chaos, shouting her name in raw desperation.

"FIONA!"

Her head jerked slightly, and that was when she saw it—really saw it. The problem.

The axe.

It wasn’t in the hobgoblin’s hands. Not yet. It was on his back, slung diagonally, swaying with his movement like a beast itching to be unleashed. Her heart jumped.

The moment the massive creature reached back, gripping the axe, time seemed to blur. The weapon came free with a savage rip, and the goblin launched a brutal, sweeping slash forward—right at her.

In that instant, everything slowed.

It felt like he had already cut her. Like time had skipped, and she had been split in two. But instead—SLAM!

Steve tackled her.

He drove into her with full force, just in time, knocking her flat to the ground. The monstrous blade missed by a hair’s breadth, slicing the air above where she’d been just a heartbeat before.

Dust burst upward. Fiona’s breath caught. Steve’s arm wrapped around her as they rolled to the side, the ground trembling beneath them. He looked back—his eyes narrow, fixed with fire—right at the hobgoblin.

And then they saw it.

The goblin towered over them. Massive. Freakishly huge. Maybe nine feet tall, with arms like tree trunks and a chest that looked like it had been carved from boulders.

Its face twisted into a snarl, exposing a row of uneven, spiky teeth, yellowed and cruel.

Steve gasped and gritted his teeth. Without thinking, he grabbed Fiona again and rolled with her, trying to get them both out of the way.

But he wasn’t fast enough.

The goblin raised its axe again—higher this time—and swung it down with all its monstrous weight.

It came for Steve.

The blade plummeted.

And—

It should have hit him.

It was right there... but then-

CLANG!

The sound rang out like thunder as the hobgoblin’s axe came crashing down—only to be met by the blade of the B-Rank Sorcerer.

Steel screeched against stone as sparks burst in every direction.

The Sorcerer gritted her teeth, veins straining along her neck and arms as she struggled to hold the line, bracing the weight of the monster’s attack.

Her sword trembled beneath the pressure, arms shaking—but she didn’t let it fall. He held firm.

And Steve didn’t hesitate.

The second he saw the opening, he scooped Fiona into his arms and leapt back—retreating with swift, practiced movement, the air cutting past them as they escaped the blow.

Behind him, the B-Rank soldier hurled herself away as well. He managed to avoid the crashing axe by the width of a quarter stone.

Dust and fragments of stone exploded upward as the hobgoblin’s axe struck the ground, sending tremors rippling through the earth.

The creature grunted.

Low. Primal.

It looked up, lips curled back in a brutal snarl, his massive chest rising and falling like a beast in heat.

Steve landed hard, one knee slamming into the ground. His arms cradled Fiona tightly, shielding her from the broken terrain. Her face was streaked with tears, her skin cold and damp. She knelt there beside him, trembling. The ground beneath them was wet, mud clinging to her knees.

Fiona’s wide eyes lifted—met his.

For a moment, just one heartbeat—they stared at each other.

Then Steve spoke, voice low, breathless.

"You okay?"

She opened her mouth, tried to speak—but the fear was still there, gripping her throat. All she could do was nod, silent, her tears catching the dull light.

Steve exhaled.

"Good." he muttered, more to himself than her.

He gently lowered her to the ground.

Then he rose.

He turned—his eyes shifting back toward the beast that loomed in front of the entire clan. The hobgoblin stood like a nightmare, framed by firelight and steel, its ragged breath steaming the air.

Steve’s hands reached for his belt.

Both sides popped open as his fingers closed around the hilts of his daggers.

He drew them out in a single, smooth motion—twin glints of metal flashing under the broken light.

His feet shifted.

His stance lowered.

And in his mind, the thought came clear and sharp:

’That’s... an actual magic beast.’

Of course, during all their months of training, they had only ever fought humans.

They sparred against one another, practiced formations, drilled movement, and danced around swinging bags of sand or makeshift blades. They had learned how to anticipate a punch, how to parry a sword, how to survive an ambush.

But none of them had ever come face-to-face with a magic beast.

Not until now.

And it showed.

The hobgoblin before them was nothing like a human. It was monstrous—towering, hunched with muscle, and draped in tattered skin that barely covered its grotesque, deformed body. Its face alone was hideous—an ugly twist of flesh and bone, with eyes like burning coals and teeth like jagged shards of ivory.

Even the soldiers who had already lost loved ones to the town’s slaughter stood frozen.

Perhaps it was the fresh sting of grief. Or perhaps... it was the sheer, soul-gripping terror of seeing something this inhuman, this monstrous, with their own eyes.

They were paralyzed.

They just stood there, staring.

Staring and doing nothing.

Just... frozen.

But Steve—Steve was not like the others.

His eyes didn’t waver.

He stood firm, staring right at the beast, the air shifting with the rise and fall of his breath. There was no awe in his gaze. Only focus and resolve.

Because in that moment, he saw it—a glimmer of opportunity.

There, at the back of the goblin’s thick neck, he spotted it—a thread. A faint shimmer. A string that extended outward, thin and delicate, unseen to the others... but not to him.

A puppeteer’s string.

A connection.

It could be controlled.

And if it could be controlled... it could be killed.

Just then—

clash!

—a sudden movement tore the moment apart. One of the B-Rank sorcerers dashed forward, blade glinting, and slashed toward the goblin’s massive chest.

The goblin snarled, swinging his axe wide—and blocked the strike.

Steel met stone once more.

The other sorcerer joined the fray, leaping in without hesitation, her own sword arcing through the air.

Then both of them moved—circling, weaving—cutting with rapid precision.

The goblin roared.

Slashes began to land. Blood spilled. Dark, thick, and steaming.

They were drawing wounds, tearing open flesh.

But the monster didn’t fall.

Even wounded, it moved too much—still far too dangerous. It was slow, yes, and the sorcerers were faster, darting around like flickers of flame—but the goblin wasn’t stupid.

Steve noticed it.

With each attack aimed for its head or neck, the goblin would react instantly—always raising its axe to block the blow.

Not once did it leave its guard open.

It was calculating.

It was...intelligent.

Steve’s eyes narrowed.

’So it knows... it knows where it can’t afford to be hit.’ he thought.

’If I can just get it to hold still. If I can lock it in place—just for a second—one strike to the head is all they need.’

He breathed out slowly. ƒгeeweɓn૦vel.com

Then, steadying himself, Steve lowered his center of gravity, channeling every bit of focus toward the towering beast before him.

The goblin, still battling the sorcerers, swung wildly, its axe high again, defending its vulnerable point.

And Steve moved.

No hesitation. No fear.

He released his breath—and whispered the word, ready to control the best and end the conquest battle right then and there.

"Unravel."

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