Evelyn's POV
When we arrived, the sight before us was grim. Most of the villagers' houses were already engulfed in flames, and the survivors had barricaded themselves inside the village chief's home. A swarm of goblins battered at the makeshift defenses, hacking and clawing to tear it down.
On the flanks, goblin archers loosed arrows into the chaos, their crude shafts striking down anyone who dared peek from behind the barricade. In the center stood their leader — a goblin shaman, radiating mana. Its strength was at least that of a Stage Two cultivator, and its guttural chants kept the goblins focused and relentless.
"Archers, both sides," Jenny warned quickly, her bow already in hand.
"I'll take the left," Alex muttered before disappearing into the shadows.
"Then the right's mine," Alice replied firmly, already forming a fireball between her palms.
I guided Arthur forward, his body tensing with my will. With a swift gesture, Alice's fireball roared across the battlefield, exploding among the archers on the right flank. At the same time, Alex struck from the shadows, cutting down two goblins before they even noticed him.
Now it was my turn. I directed Arthur to unleash a massive fireball straight at the shaman. The goblin leader raised its hands to cast a barrier, but too late — the blast detonated, flames erupting outward and consuming the shaman and the goblins clustered around it. Their screams filled the night as fire devoured them.
"Push in!" Adam bellowed, raising his shield.
Arthur and Adam charged side by side, cutting through the panicked goblins. Jenny's arrows whistled overhead, striking down any that tried to flank us, while Alex moved like a phantom, driving his blades into distracted enemies. Alice kept up her barrage of fire, forcing the remaining goblins into disarray.
Without their shaman or their archer squads, the horde collapsed. The surviving goblins scattered, squealing as they fled into the forest.
Silence returned at last, broken only by the crackle of burning homes.
The barricade creaked open, and weary villagers stumbled out. Relief washed over their soot-stained faces as they saw us standing among the goblin corpses.
"Thank the spirits… we thought it was over," the village chief rasped, clutching his wounded arm.
"Not while we're here," Adam assured him, planting his spear in the ground.
Alice and I immediately began healing the injured. Burn wounds, cuts, and arrow piercings — we treated as many as we could. Still, it wasn't enough. Nearly a third of the village had been wiped out before we arrived.
That night, the survivors offered us food and a place to rest. Their gratitude was genuine, but grief hung over the air like a heavy fog. As I lay in bed, controlling Arthur's body from afar, I couldn't help but feel a weight in my chest. We saved them, but at a terrible cost.
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The next morning, after a simple breakfast, we prepared to head north. Alice released a white pigeon into the sky, the tiny bird carrying her written report back to the Adventurers' Guild.
"The Guild needs to know how bad this has gotten," she said quietly, watching it disappear over the treeline.
The villagers gathered to see us off.
"Please… thank you. Truly," one of the women said, clutching her child's hand.
I nodded through Arthur. "Stay strong. Rebuild. Don't give up."
We turned north, our group falling into a heavy silence. The smoldering ruins behind us were a painful reminder of what we were up against.
At this point, there was no longer any doubt. A Goblin King was behind this. I had never seen one before — but a thrill of anticipation stirred inside me.
How strong could it be?
We would soon find out.