The six adventurers moved cautiously through the forest, eyes scanning every shadow. They were heading toward the goblin outpost, weapons at the ready.
"I see smoke," Selene whispered, pointing ahead. "That should be the outpost."
They quickened their pace—only to halt when a grisly sight stopped them cold: a goblin's headless corpse lying in the dirt, blood pooling into the leaves.
Without a word, they broke into a run.
What they found next made them stop again—this time in stunned silence.
The outpost was a massacre. Goblin bodies littered the ground, each kill clean and efficient. There was no sign of struggle, no crude traps triggered, and not a single non-goblin corpse in sight.
Then Ronan spotted movement—a man and a woman slipping out from the far side of the outpost, vanishing toward the forest.
"Two people," he murmured. "Heading west."
"They must be the ones who did this," Selene said, her eyes narrowing. "We should try to talk before they disappear."
Isla frowned. "Or before they decide we're next."
Ronan motioned for the others to stay alert as they moved. The group fanned out slightly, approaching at an angle that wouldn't look like they were trying to box the strangers in.
But as they drew closer, the woman was already watching them—her gaze cold and unblinking. With deliberate calm, she placed a hand on her partner's shoulder, halting him.
When they were within shouting distance, Selene called out, her voice steady but nonthreatening. "We mean no harm!"
The woman didn't relax. Her eyes flicked to Selene, then back to the group, her expression unreadable. "And what exactly do you want?" Her tone was flat—neither welcoming nor hostile, but with enough weight to make it clear she would not tolerate games.
Ronan raised an open hand in a placating gesture. "We're adventurers, same as you. We found your work here… impressive. We just want to talk."
As he spoke, the group couldn't help but truly take in the woman's presence. Her attire was unlike anything they'd seen—revealing yet masterfully crafted, built for speed and precision without sacrificing elegance. She carried herself with dangerous poise, the faint blue glow from her divine-looking spear casting ghostly ripples of light across her figure.
And gods, she was beautiful—striking in a way that demanded attention, yet radiating a quiet warning that she was far more dangerous than she looked.
As for the man, his garb was… baffling. He wore no armor, no tunic, not even traveling leathers—only a strange, thin brown tunic with no laces or clasps, and short black breeches that ended above the knee. His footwear was the oddest of all—soft, shapeless things with holes punched through them, as if crafted from some unknown material rather than leather or cloth. His face was plain enough, but the way he dressed made him look like someone plucked from a different world entirely.
Beatriz eyes swept over each of them, sharp and calculating, lingering a heartbeat longer on the archer in the rear. "Talk about what?"
Selene kept her bow lowered. "The goblin activity in this forest. And… perhaps how you managed to wipe out an entire outpost without a scratch."
Beatriz's answer was immediate, her voice cool and dismissive. "There's nothing unusual about the goblins—at least, nothing worth my time. And I wiped them out because they were weak. That's all there is to it."
Her bluntness was like a slap, but there was no arrogance in it—just fact, delivered without apology.
Ronan stepped forward half a pace, careful not to provoke. "If you can do this to one outpost, you can do more. We've been tracking goblin movements for weeks—rumors say they're gathering in numbers we haven't seen in years."
Elrick tilted his head. "So you're tasked with reducing their numbers? And you want our help?"
Ronan nodded. "Yes. There are two more goblin outposts within an hour's walk. If you help us clear them, every aether shard from the goblins you kill will be yours. And you'll have first pick of whatever loot we find."
Aether shards, Elrick thought. So that's what they're called.
"With the help of six more fighters, clearing an outpost shouldn't be a problem," Elrick reasoned. "And it's a good chance to level up."
Elrick also weighed the risk—these adventurers could just as easily be bandits in disguise, or mercenaries with their own hidden agendas. Trusting them outright would be foolish. Still, if they were genuine, this might be his best chance to reach human civilization. And once among people, he could finally start piecing together how this world worked.
He looked at her. "Do you want to do it?"
Beatriz held his gaze, her tone even. "You decide. If you want this done, I'll see it through. Just make the call." Her gaze flicked briefly toward the treeline, as if already anticipating the path ahead. "It does look like a good opportunity to level up—but the choice is yours."
Elrick turned to Ronan. "We'll help—but only if Beatriz examines the outpost first and is confident we can take it."
Ronan smirked faintly. "Fair enough."