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The forest thickened as the sun dipped lower, its dying light bleeding red across the tangled undergrowth. Auren walked ahead, boots crunching over dead leaves, his voice low but edged with that cold precision Riven had come to recognize.
> "Goblins don't just live," Auren said, eyes scanning the shadows. "They fester. They breed. They rot a place from the inside."
Riven smirked faintly, adjusting his grip on the blade slung over his shoulder. "You talk about them like they're a disease."
Auren's gaze flicked toward him, one corner of his mouth curling. "That's because they are. And tonight, we're the cure."
The air grew foul as they moved deeper into the woods. A rancid stench rolled over them—rot, sweat, and something far worse. The kind of smell that clung to the back of your throat and made your stomach turn.
Riven's nose wrinkled. "That's… bad."
"Bad?" Auren's eyes darkened. "That's the smell of them feeding. Or mating. Maybe both."
They pushed through the final curtain of gnarled roots and hanging moss—and then they saw it.
The goblin nest wasn't just a hole in the ground; it was a wound carved into the earth. The entrance was a jagged maw of sharpened stakes and splintered bone, trophies of prey both human and beast. The ground was slick with some dark, drying fluid.
In the dim light, crude totems hung from branches—skulls lashed together with sinew, scraps of torn clothing fluttering like mocking banners. From within, a low chorus of guttural chuckles and wet chewing echoed.
Riven shifted uncomfortably. "How many do you think?"
Auren's lips curved into a slow, predatory smile. "Enough to make it worth my time." His voice dipped darker. "And enough to make them scream before they die."
Something shuffled inside the nest, followed by a shriek—high, panicked, not goblin. Riven's jaw tightened.
"Prisoners?" he asked.
Auren didn't answer right away. His gaze stayed locked on the darkness beyond the entrance, as if savoring the thought of what was inside.
"Let's find out," he murmured, stepping forward without hesitation, his shadow swallowing the pale light.
Dozens of goblins milled around a crude pit lit by flickering torches. The firelight made their mottled green skin look diseased, their sharp teeth glinting with drool. Around them, bone charms and severed human hands dangled from ropes, swaying in the damp air.
In the center, naked prisoners—men and women—were bound to sharpened stakes, their bodies painted in streaks of mud and blood. The goblins danced around them in jerking, frenzied movements, chanting in a guttural tongue. One of them stepped forward, holding a jagged stone knife, and carved a symbol into a prisoner's thigh. The victim's muffled scream was drowned by the tribe's howls.
Riven's grip on his sword tightened until his knuckles whitened. Auren didn't speak, but the slow, icy smile forming on his lips promised death.
The chanting built into a frenzy. A goblin shaman emerged, wearing a crown of bones and a necklace strung with human ears. He held aloft a blackened skull, the eye sockets stuffed with burning herbs, sending up a bitter smoke that stung Auren's eyes.
Auren and Riven exchanged a glance. No words. No mercy.
They dropped from their perch into the nest like shadows, and the first goblin didn't even have time to scream before Riven's blade split its jaw in two.
The first goblin hit the ground in two twitching halves before its companions even noticed the intruders.
Riven's blade hissed in the torchlight, still wet with the thing's black-green blood. "One down," he muttered, his voice a cold rasp.
Auren didn't reply. His eyes were already shifting, the shadows in the cavern bending toward him like they recognized their master. The stench of rot and damp fur thickened, and the goblins finally turned to face them—dozens of yellow eyes widening in disbelief.
Then Auren whispered, his voice carrying like a curse:
"Shadow of Submission."
The temperature in the nest seemed to plummet. An invisible weight pressed against every goblin's chest. Those mid-step stumbled. Those gripping weapons found their claws trembling. The flickering torchlight seemed to dim, shadows stretching unnaturally, curling around Auren like living things.
A feral goblin snarled and charged—only to freeze mid-sprint as Auren's gaze locked onto it.
"Dominator's Gaze."
Its eyes went wide, pupils shrinking, the snarl dying in its throat. It dropped its rusted blade as if it weighed a ton. The hesitation was fatal—Auren was already on it, moving like a phantom. His dagger punched into the creature's neck, twisting, severing windpipe and spine in one brutal motion. He let it fall, twitching, without looking back.
"Move!" Riven barked, cutting down another goblin that lunged for the bound prisoners. The clang of metal on crude iron echoed, followed by a wet crack as his blade shattered a goblin's collarbone. "We keep them away from the captives!"
But the tribe had rallied now. The shaman shrieked, waving his bone crown, and a swarm of goblins surged forward, claws and jagged blades flashing.
Auren stepped into them, smiling faintly.
"Psychic Bind."
Invisible chains lashed out from his mind, clamping onto three at once. They froze mid-lunge, muscles straining uselessly, eyes wild with confusion and terror. "Pathetic," Auren muttered, and his daggers flashed—one, two, three. Arterial spray painted the dirt walls as their bodies slumped in silence.
The pit became chaos. Goblins slipped in the blood of their own, their screams mixing with the prisoners' muffled sobs.
Riven fought like a storm, his sword a constant silver arc. He cleaved through bone and sinew, the sound sharp and final. "You think this is a fucking dance?" he snarled, booting a goblin into the firepit. It shrieked as the flames caught its greasy hair, the smell of burning flesh flooding the cavern.
Auren's movements were quieter, more surgical—each step a death sentence. A goblin swung low; he caught its wrist, twisted until the joint snapped, then drove a dagger up under its jaw, feeling the point punch through the soft palate into the brain. He pushed the corpse aside before it even stopped spasming.
More came. More died.
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