The gates of Thornfield creaked open with a slow, groaning protest as Selvara strode in from the treeline. Her boots were still wet with goblin blood, her blade streaked in crimson that had not yet dried. The guards standing watch stiffened when they saw her expression, calm, but edged with something heavier, something that made the air around her feel colder.
She didn't waste time. Her silver eyes locked onto the man drilling recruits in the courtyard: Captain Roderick. His broad frame was unmistakable, scarred armor glinting beneath the midday sun. His voice carried across the square, barking orders at fresh guards who fumbled spears under his gaze.
"Captain."
The single word cut through the air like a thrown dagger. Roderick turned, and his stern expression softened only slightly when he saw who it was.
"Selvara." He waved the recruits away and stepped closer, wiping his brow. "Report."
She didn't move, didn't fidget, didn't waste breath. "I found them. Not just a few strays. An entire den."
Roderick's jaw tensed. "How many?"
"Three hundred," Selvara answered without hesitation. "At least. And not just feral ones. Warriors. Armored. Organized."
For a long moment, silence hung between them. The distant chatter of villagers and the clanging of a hammer at the smithy seemed far away.
Roderick muttered under his breath, voice heavy with unease. "So they're this close now… Tsk." He spat to the side and rubbed his beard. "Damn pests have been pushing harder every season, but this…" He shook his head. "This is different."
Selvara waited.
Finally, he looked up. "All guards to their stations. Double the night watch." His voice rose, sharp and commanding. "If the goblins march tonight, I want Thornfield ready for war."
The nearby guards snapped to attention and sprinted off, relaying the orders.
Roderick turned back to Selvara, eyes narrowing. "If what you say is true, I can't wait for them to bring the fight here. We'll cut their numbers while they rot in their hole." He raised his hand, gesturing for ten men nearby. "My best. We move tonight."
The guards approached quickly, men in hardened leather, chainmail glinting beneath cloaks. Among them, a younger man with sharp eyes and a clean blade stepped forward: Nick.
Selvara's gaze flickered over them, then she spoke. "Let me join."
Roderick frowned. "This isn't a patrol, mercenary. It's slaughter. We're walking into a den swarming with beasts. You may be fast, but one mistake and you'll be buried under a tide of blades."
She tilted her head slightly, expression unreadable. "All the more reason to have me there. You'll need speed."
His eyes searched hers for a long moment. Silence stretched until finally, he exhaled through his nose, resigned. "Fine. But understand this, if you fall, I won't throw away lives to drag you out."
Selvara faintly smiled, a ghost of expression that barely touched her lips. She lowered her eyes for a moment, her thoughts brushing like a whisper across her mind. Loid will surely love this.
---
They left Thornfield before sunset, slipping into the thick woods where shadows stretched long between the trees. The forest seemed restless, every bird silent, every branch creaking as if the land itself sensed the blood waiting ahead.
The group moved in tight formation, Roderick at the front with his heavy shield strapped across his back. Nick drifted closer to Selvara, glancing at her every few steps. His lips parted once, twice, as though he wanted to speak.
"You fought goblins before?" he finally asked.
Selvara did not turn her head. Did not slow her step. Her silence was absolute.
Nick's jaw tightened. He tried again. "The spar yesterday, It was---"
Nothing. Not even the flicker of an eye in his direction.
His pride stung like a blade's edge, but he swallowed the bitterness, forcing himself to keep pace. Fine, he thought, glaring ahead. Ignore me. Just wait until the fighting starts.
The march continued in silence until the forest broke.
There it was.
The goblin den yawned open in the hillside like the maw of a beast, torches burning in irregular sconces. Shadows moved within—hundreds of them. The stench of rot and unwashed bodies drifted out, sour and suffocating.
Roderick raised a fist, signaling a halt. The men crouched low, eyes narrowing as they scanned the entrance.
"Estimate?" one guard whispered.
"Too many," another muttered.
Selvara's eyes sharpened. "First wave's already preparing."
As if summoned by her words, the ground trembled with guttural roars. From the blackness of the cave, the goblins came. Dozens, then scores, their eyes glowing faintly in the firelight, blades and clubs clutched in clawed hands. Behind them, twelve towering warrior goblins marched, armor clanking, muscles bulging with raw strength.
The air thickened with their stench, with their hunger.
Roderick's voice boomed. "Shields forward! Spears ready!"
The guards obeyed instantly, shields locking into a wall, spears bristling between the gaps. Selvara stood apart, her silver eyes calm, her hand resting on her hilt.
The horde screamed and charged.
---
The first impact was deafening.
Goblins slammed into shields, clawing and stabbing, teeth gnashing as the front line held firm. Spears thrust forward, skewering snarling throats, punching through leathery hides. Blood sprayed, splattering across shields and faces.
Roderick roared, pushing forward with the wall, his shield slamming a goblin to the dirt. His sword followed, cleaving the beast in two.
Nick fought beside him, teeth gritted, blade flashing in clean arcs. He moved like a trained soldier, steady, precise, efficient. A goblin lunged low; Nick twisted, driving his blade down through its skull, then kicked the corpse aside.
The field turned red.
Selvara moved.
One moment she was still, the next she blurred, weaving through goblins with inhuman speed. Her blade flashed like silver lightning, cutting throats, severing tendons, opening arteries in graceful, merciless strikes.
A goblin's eyes barely registered her before its head rolled from its shoulders. Another swung a rusted axe as she was already behind it, blade sliding across its spine.
She didn't just kill. She toyed.
Her speed was cruel, a dance that let goblins see her for a fraction of a second before death found them. She darted close enough for them to swing, then vanished, leaving only their fear in her wake before cutting them down.
The battlefield howled with their panic.
"Keep the line!" Roderick shouted, his sword cleaving through another skull. Blood ran down his armor, but his stance never faltered. "Don't give them an inch!"
The goblins crashed again and again, but the line held, shields pushing forward as spears and blades struck. Bodies piled at their feet, the mud turning into crimson sludge.
Then the warriors entered.
Twelve hulking beasts, each towering above the men, muscles corded beneath mismatched armor. Their weapons were crude but massive iron clubs, axes, maces that could shatter bone with a single swing.
"Warriors incoming!" Nick shouted, raising his shield just as one charged. The blow crashed into him, sending him stumbling back, his arm numb from the impact. He gritted his teeth and lunged forward, blade slicing across the warrior's thigh. It roared, swinging again, sparks flying as steel met shield.
Another warrior smashed into the line, shattering a guard's shield in half. The man screamed as the second blow caved in his chest. Blood sprayed as he collapsed.
"Hold!" Roderick roared, slamming his shield into the warrior's gut. His sword hacked upward, biting deep into its ribs. The beast roared, staggering but not falling.
Selvara blurred into their ranks, her silver eyes flashing. She darted beneath a warrior's swing, blade slicing clean through his hamstring. He bellowed, dropping to one knee. She vanished again, reappearing behind, her blade plunging through the back of his neck.
He crashed to the dirt, twitching.
Another warrior turned toward her, mace raised. She flickered sideways, blade carving shallow cuts across his arms, his legs, his throat then dies by a thousand strikes. His roars turned desperate, his swings wild, until her blade slid between his ribs and pierced his heart.
Her speed was unmatched. Where Roderick was raw strength, where Nick was precision, Selvara was inevitability. Every goblin she touched fell.
The first wave broke against them, bodies collapsing in heaps, blood soaking into the earth until the smell was suffocating.
Still, they came.
Still, the warriors roared, swinging with monstrous strength, each impact shaking the ground. Shields splintered, bones cracked, men screamed.
But Roderick roared louder, his sword cleaving heads from shoulders. Nick stood unyielding, blade flashing through the dark. And Selvara danced through them all, silver eyes calm, her blade singing with blood.
By the time the last warrior fell, gurgling on his own blood, the field was unrecognizable. A hundred goblins lay dead. Twelve warriors sprawled broken and still. The ground was thick with corpses, the torches burning in the cave mouth flickering against the carnage.
Selvara stood among the dead, her blade dripping, her breath steady despite the crimson stains across her armor.
She allowed herself the faintest smile.