The moon hung low and heavy above the east forest. The night was quiet save for the restless chirp of crickets and the faint rush of the wind through black branches. But deeper in the trees, where the light barely reached, silence had taken on another texture, thick, heavy, unnatural. It was the silence of absence, of things killed too quickly to make noise.
A lone guard ran through the undergrowth, lantern swinging wildly in his hand, its dim glow spilling uneven across roots and moss. His breathing came ragged, chest hammering from both the pace and the dread that gnawed at him.
"Faster," he muttered to himself. "Don't think. Just run."
He was not supposed to be here alone. But Captain Roderick had given the order plainly, leaving no room for excuses.
"Go. The mercenary woman, Selvara. She's been gone too long. See if she's even still alive. And if she's not… we need to know before the villagers start whispering."
The guard hadn't wanted to argue. Who would? But his gut twisted tighter the farther he ran into the eastern dark.
---
Hours earlier, in the watch-post above the palisade, Captain Roderick had leaned over the railing, his weathered face drawn tight with worry. His armor was half-fastened, as if he had dressed in haste, and his hand never strayed far from the hilt of his sword.
"You," he said, pointing at the guard. "I need eyes in the east forest. We sent Selvara out there and haven't seen her return. She may have been overrun."
The guard stiffened. "Sir, with respect, if she's gone, isn't that proof enough that the forest isn't safe? Sending just one..."
"Do you think I have men to spare?" Roderick snapped, his voice sharp but not cruel. "The villagers are afraid. They want answers. If she fell, we need to know. If she still fights, we need to measure how long she can hold."
The guard swallowed hard. "Yes, sir."
Roderick's gaze softened slightly, but only slightly. "You're not going out there to fight. Just look. Just bring word back. If she's dead, tell me. If she's alive, tell me. Either way, you keep your legs under you and you run back fast."
The guard nodded, heart already pounding. He turned to leave, when his eyes caught a strange sight below the palisade.
A man was sitting alone on the edge of the square, not a villager he recognized. Leaning against a post, weary but oddly calm. The guard squinted. That's him. That's her partner... the one who came with her.
For a moment he hesitated, almost tempted to speak, to ask why Selvara's companion sat idle while she fought in the dark. But Roderick's voice barked again from above.
"Go!"
And so the guard went, running into the east forest, lantern trembling in his grip.
---
The first corpse appeared sooner than expected. A goblin, its throat cut so deep its head dangled by only a strip of flesh. Its eyes were still open, glassy under the moonlight.
The guard slowed, bile rising in his throat. He had seen death before, bandits on the road, wolves torn apart by traps but never like this. This was too clean, too merciless.
He stepped around it carefully, but ten paces farther he found another. And another. Each one dispatched differently: skulls caved in, stomachs opened, spines severed. The forest floor was wet with blood that shone faint silver beneath the moon.
The guard's face grew paler with every step. His lantern's glow shook as his hand trembled.
By the fiftieth corpse he stopped completely, chest heaving. "What the fuck..." he whispered, staring at the carnage. "One woman did this?"
He thought of turning back. He wanted to turn back. But his feet refused, some grim compulsion dragging him onward. He had to see. He had to know.
---
The forest creaked with sudden sound, a shuffle, then guttural snarls. The guard froze and doused his lantern in panic, pressing himself into the roots of a tree. He slid behind the trunk, breath shallow, eyes straining through the dark.
Footsteps. Heavy, wet, clumsy. And voices, rough, guttural, thick with rage.
A group of goblins stumbled into view, five of them, their eyes glowing faint in the moonlight. Four were small, armed with spears and clubs, but the last was bigger, a warrior. Its chest was wrapped in crude iron, its cleaver dripping with old blood.
They came upon the corpses scattered across the forest path, their chatter rising into outraged gurgles. One poked a body with its spear. Another shrieked and pointed toward the dark, calling to unseen kin.
The guard pressed a hand over his mouth to silence his own breath. His knees shook. If they found him...
But then everything changed in an instant.
---
A blur cut through the trees. No wind, no warning, just movement too fast for the eye to follow. The goblin with the spear convulsed, its head lolling to the side before the body even registered the cut. Blood sprayed in an arc across the leaves.
The others shrieked, spinning in panic. Too late.
Selvara was among them, her blades twin shadows that drank the moonlight. She slid low, carving the ankles out from one goblin so it collapsed screaming, then rose in a single motion to plunge her short sword into its skull.
The warrior roared, swinging its cleaver in a brutal arc. Selvara sidestepped, so close the blade grazed her shoulder, and buried her other sword deep into the warrior's throat. She twisted hard. Cartilage tore with a sick crack.
The last two goblins tried to flee, scrambling backward in panic. Selvara darted forward, a flicker of silver eyes and blood-slick steel. One head flew free of its body. The other goblin collapsed as both its arms were severed at the elbows, its shrieks cut short by a merciful thrust through the chest.
The entire skirmish lasted no more than heartbeats.
And then the forest was silent again.
---
The guard's breath caught in his throat. His entire body shook, torn between awe and terror. He had never seen killing like that so precise, so cold, so efficient.
He stayed crouched, chest tight, until Selvara stepped back from the corpses, her blades dripping. Her silver eyes scanned the trees. They passed over the guard's hiding place.
"...A guard?" she said softly, confusion threading her tone. Her voice was calm but edged with suspicion. "Are you here to investigate?"
The guard flinched, realizing he'd been spotted. He stood slowly, hands raised in instinctive surrender, face pale as chalk. "Y-Yes," he stammered. "Captain Roderick sent me. He… he wanted to know if you were still alive."
Selvara tilted her head, wiping blood from her cheek with the back of her hand. "I'm fine. I found a large tree near the ridge where I can rest between waves. There are fruit-bearing branches nearby. I didn't go hungry." She sheathed one blade, stretching her arm with a faint wince. "Inform this to my leader, Loid."
The guard blinked, swallowing his nerves. "Loid… yes, I understand."
Selvara's gaze lingered on him for a moment, unreadable. Then she nodded once. "Good. Go."
The guard didn't need telling twice. He turned and ran, legs trembling, his lantern forgotten on the forest floor.
---
Back in the village square, the hour was late. The watch fires burned low, and most homes were dark. But in the captain's quarters, two men sat opposite one another at a heavy oak table, Roderick in his worn armor, and Loid in his plain shirt, the glow of the UI flickering faintly in his eyes.
Loid's voice was steady. "Again, Captain Roderick, the price for Selvara's massacre of the goblins is one hundred gold coins. Not ninety. Not eighty. One hundred."
Roderick scowled, rubbing at his beard. "That's robbery. One hundred? For one mercenary? She may be dead out there already."
Loid leaned forward, calm but unyielding. "She's not dead. I know she isn't."
"You 'know'?" Roderick scoffed. "On what proof? Faith?"
"On trust," Loid said simply. "You've seen her work, Captain. You've heard the villagers whisper of what she's done already. Do you really think goblins could have ended her so quickly?"
Roderick's mouth tightened. He wanted to argue, but the memory of Selvara's cold eyes, her blade work, her utter lack of hesitation that image tugged at his conviction.
Loid pressed on, his tone sharp as steel. "You're not paying for a woman. You're paying for the wall of corpses she builds to keep your people safe. How much gold is a hundred lives worth? Two hundred? A thousand?"
Roderick's fist clenched on the table. "Damn you, boy, you speak too smooth."
"Better drained coffers than drained throats," Loid answered evenly. "If you want her to keep fighting, pay what her blades earn. If you want to risk the horde flooding your gates, then refuse. But don't pretend you can afford not to decide."
The room was thick with tension. Roderick stared at him, jaw grinding. Loid held his gaze without flinching.
Then the door burst open. The guard stumbled in, face white, chest heaving. "Captain! She... Selvara, she's alive!"
Roderick shot to his feet. "Alive? You're certain?"
"Absolutely." The guard's voice shook, but his eyes were wide with conviction. "I saw it myself. The forest is littered with bodies. Hundreds—no, nearly a thousand goblins. She killed them all. I watched her slaughter a pack myself. Captain, she's still fighting even now."
Roderick's mouth hung open for a heartbeat. He turned slowly toward Loid, whose calm expression hadn't changed.
The captain's voice was low, almost reverent. "A thousand…"
The guard nodded, trembling. "It's true."
Silence stretched. Finally, Roderick exhaled and sank back into his chair. His voice was hoarse. "Fine. You'll have your hundred gold coins."
The guard added, "She told me to inform you that she'll remain in the forest. More goblins are still coming from the cave. She means to hold them there."
Loid's composure cracked for only a moment of worry flickering in his eyes. But he nodded. "I understand."
---
An hour later, Roderick returned, a heavy pouch in hand. He dropped it on the table before Loid. The coins clinked, rich and heavy.
"One hundred gold," Roderick said grimly. "Earned in blood."
Loid picked it up, weighing it once before tucking it away. He looked the captain squarely in the eye. "And every coin is worth it."
Roderick said nothing more. The guard stood silently at his side, still pale from what he had witnessed.
Outside, the moon kept its silent watch over the forest, where Selvara's blades still moved unseen, cutting down the endless tide.