The silence that followed the battlefield was short-lived.
It began as a murmur, a vibration rolling up through the earth. Then came the guttural bellows, hundreds of voices screaming in unison, so deep and thunderous it rattled the bones. From within the half-buried cavern, new shadows writhed and pressed against the collapsed stone, clawing to break free.
Every man froze.
Nick's lips parted, his eyes wide. "Gods… they're still coming?"
The other guards shifted uneasily, their boots scraping across the blood-soaked dirt. Even the bravest among them, still standing after a night of carnage, felt their knees weaken at the sound.
Roderick's face darkened. His body trembled not with fear, but with the effort of staying upright. His arms ached, his shield arm burned, his chest felt like lead. But there was no time left.
"Enough," he growled, and raised his sword high. His voice cracked the silence, sharp as steel. "We fall back!"
The men hesitated, but he roared again, louder and rawer: "Retreat! To the village!"
No one questioned him after that.
Selvara's silver eyes narrowed toward the cave. For a fleeting instant, her fingers tightened around her blade as if she meant to stay and keep killing until her heart stopped. But then she looked at Roderick, at the weary men limping behind their battered shields, and she exhaled slowly. She sheathed her sword, turned, and followed.
The ground shook harder. Pebbles scattered. A booming crack rang out as part of the rubble shifted, spilling stones aside.
Roderick spun, his teeth bared, and slammed his shield into the ground. His voice tore from his throat, raw with desperation and command.
"Go!"
He raised his sword in both hands, every muscle screaming as he brought it down in one last, titanic swing. The blade crashed against the fractured stone, spirit and steel igniting together.
The cavern mouth collapsed in a deafening thunder. Boulders slammed down, dust exploding outward in choking clouds. For a breathless moment, the world was nothing but stone crashing upon stone. When the dust began to settle, the cave was gone, buried under tons of rock.
The roars inside became muffled and distant. The goblins were trapped, for now.
Roderick staggered, nearly dropping his blade. His men rushed to him, half-dragging, half-guiding him away. He didn't resist. His chest heaved, his vision blurred, but a grim smile tugged at his lips.
"That… will slow them."
And so they fled.
---
The road back to the village felt endless. Their boots pounded mud, their armor rattled, and their breaths rasped in the cool night air. No one spoke much. Every man was too tired, too bloodied, too aware that behind them, buried but not destroyed, a storm waited to break loose.
Selvara walked near the rear, her sword drawn just in case. Her stride was steady, though her pale face betrayed fatigue. Blood streaked her cheek and stained her armor. She looked more like a spirit than a woman, drifting silent among the men.
By the time the village gates came into sight, dawn had not yet risen. Lanterns burned on the walls. Guards on watch stiffened at the sight of the survivors stumbling toward them.
"Open the gates!" someone shouted.
The heavy wooden doors creaked, then swung wide. Villagers who had been waiting inside gasped at the sight of the battered warriors. Mothers pulled children closer. Farmers gripped their pitchforks tighter.
"Captain Roderick!" a sergeant rushed forward, relief flooding his features. "You made it back!"
Roderick barely had the strength to nod. "Shut the gates. Now."
The orders carried. The gates slammed closed behind them, locking the village tight.
---
Meanwhile, Loid sat in his small rented room at the inn. The candlelight flickered across his tired face as he leaned back on the bed, staring at the UI that hovered before his eyes.
His pulse raced.
The numbers had been creeping upward all night, reputation points rising every time Selvara struck down another foe. But now, after the battle's climax, they skyrocketed. From twelve to fifty, then to a hundred, and finally settling at 137.
Loid blinked, rubbed his eyes, and muttered under his breath. "What the fuck is happening…"
He stood, pacing the room. He could almost feel the weight of the points, like a bank account he never thought he'd own. The mercenary system… it was real. All of this was real.
He pulled on his boots, strapped on his belt, and marched out into the night air. His feet carried him to the west barracks, where he'd last seen Selvara and the soldiers. The building buzzed with activity. Guards were shouting orders, villagers carried crates of spears, and blacksmiths hammered late into the night, repairing broken steel.
Loid scanned the crowd, but Selvara was nowhere.
He lingered, uncertain, until the main gates opened again. The survivors entered, bloodied, weary, but alive. Selvara was among them, her silver eyes glowing faintly under the lantern light. Roderick marched at the front, barking orders even though he looked ready to collapse.
"Get everyone ready," Roderick commanded. "Shields, spears, every blade we've got. Inform the villagers, the horde will come, and it'll be big. We need traps, barricades, firewood. Move!"
The guards scattered to obey. Villagers, wide-eyed but determined, hurried to help. Men dragged carts to block alleys. Women sharpened knives and carried buckets of oil. Children were herded into the town hall, guarded by elders.
Loid made his way to Selvara. She stood alone for a moment, cleaning her blade with a rag. She looked tired, more tired than he'd ever seen her, but her movements remained graceful, precise.
"Selvara," Loid said quietly.
She looked up at him. For the first time, she smiled. A small, almost weary thing, but a smile nonetheless.
"I'm alright," she said before he could ask. "Just tired. Nothing more."
Relief washed through him. "Good. Because, uh… I think I can level you up."
Her brows lifted slightly. "Level me… up?"
Loid nodded. He opened the UI with a thought. The system pulsed, offering the option. He pressed it.
A soft glow wrapped around Selvara for a brief second. When it faded, a single notification floated before Loid's eyes:
Selvara – Level 2
Points gained: +1
Loid blinked. "…That's it? Just one?"
Disappointment sagged his shoulders. He'd expected something dramatic, power surging, stats exploding. But no. Just one measly point.
Selvara tilted her head, studying his expression. "You expected more."
"Well, yeah," Loid admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "But I guess we can buy stuff later, skills, armor, weapons. That'll help."
He swiped the UI again, bringing up her attributes:
[ Selvara: Strength: 1 | Endurance: 2 | Agility: 5 | Spirit: 1 ]
"So," he said, glancing at her. "What do you want to improve? Are you really comfortable with your strength being just… one?"
Selvara chuckled softly, surprising him. "Strength isn't everything. A sharp weapon can cut deeper than brute force. My speed is what makes me dangerous."
"True," Loid said slowly. "But keeping that speed up all the time must be exhausting. Maybe endurance would help more than strength."
Her silver eyes warmed slightly. "Exactly. Speed without stamina is meaningless. Endurance will keep me sharp when the battle drags long."
"Endurance it is, then." Loid tapped the stat screen, placing the point. "We'll get you a real weapon when we can afford it. Something worthy."
Selvara inclined her head. "I trust your judgment."
---
The village transformed in a matter of hours.
Barricades rose at every road leading into the square. Wooden carts stacked with stones. Spiked pits dug just beyond the walls. Archers lined rooftops, testing their bows. Farmers carried scythes and hammers, gripping them like lifelines.
The air was thick with tension. Mothers whispered hurried prayers. Old men hammered nails with trembling hands. Even the children, locked safely in the hall, sensed the dread.
Loid stood at the edge of the square, watching. He'd never seen people move with such desperate unity. Fear bound them, but so did determination.
Selvara moved among them silently, checking defenses, offering the occasional word of calm to those whose hands shook too much to tie rope. Roderick, though pale and battered, barked orders ceaselessly, keeping men sharp.
Then came the sound.
At first, faint. A rustle. A whisper among the trees. Then louder. Leaves shuddering. Branches snapping. Low growls rolling out of the forest like thunder.
The villagers froze. Every ear strained. Every heart pounded.
From the tree line, shapes emerged. Dozens at first, small twisted figures with glowing eyes and rusted blades. Their shrieks split the night.
The goblins had come.
And this time, it was only the beginning.