The putrid stench of rotting flesh mingled with the damp smell of the forest. The leaves rustled in the heavy wind, but it wasn't the usual night breeze that made the branches creak—it was the weight of hundreds of bodies advancing through the darkness. Goblins.
Kael stopped in the middle of the trail, his golden sword resting on his shoulder. His eyes burned like two contained suns, reflecting what little moonlight managed to penetrate the dense canopy. The mission was clear as cold steel: exterminate the horde before it reached the human villages. And in the heart of the slaughter, somewhere ahead, the true target waited—the Goblin Lord.
A snap of a twig broke the silence.
Another.
Dozens.
The forest came alive with shrill screams, guttural howls, and the uneven sound of bare feet crunching in the mud. Kael closed his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and let his golden aura explode, enveloping him like a living flame illuminating the night.
