The Green Skins were the most common humanoid race in the Solana Greenlands, a tangled web of tribes and clans. There were the cunning goblins, masters of mischief and raiding; the disciplined hobgoblins, who forged fragile order amidst chaos; the savage orcs, embodiments of brute strength; and the colossal ogres, who served as guardians of their kind.
Once, their numbers had stretched from the depths of the Greenlands all the way to the Tierra Range. When the Kingdom of Cailux became embroiled in wars with neighboring nations, the Green Skins seized the opportunity. They swarmed southward invading the kingdom's northern lands and threatening its borders for three long years.
To the kingdom, the invasion had been like a festering wound—a disgusting infection creeping toward the heartlands.
When the wars finally ended, Cailux turned its full fury north. What followed was a year-long purge.
Goblins and hobgoblins were the first to fall. Ill-equipped and poorly armored, they were no match for disciplined cavalry and aura-wielding knights. It was said that ten years ago, the severed heads of goblins and hobgoblins lined both sides of the northern roads like grotesque milestones.
The purge became genocide. From the borderlands to the southern Solana, goblin tribes were crushed. The great goblin and hobgoblin clans were nearly annihilated. Survivors scattered—some into the distant mountains of the north, others hiding deep in the forests. But remnants persisted. Goblin raiding parties continued to strike northern villages from the Tierra Range, and in the southern Solana, their numbers had swelled again during ten years of uneasy peace.
Leon licked his cracked lips. He'd made the long grueling journey through the wilderness to build his village. With the Clash of Clans system as his cheat, he refused to remain powerless.
Before him lay a lake with a cascading waterfall—the perfect campsite.
"Alright, you people, get busy!" Carlos barked.
The knights quickly scattered to scout the area. Or rather they half-heartedly did. After nine days of uneventful travel their caution had dulled. A cursory check was all they bothered with before returning to pitch their tents.
Leon ordered the Barbarians to start setting up camp. Supplies from the carriages included a dozen tents, ropes, and poles. The Barbarians moved with practiced efficiency, their burly forms casting long shadows in the afternoon sun.
Purple candles were lit outside each tent. Their faint glow served a vital purpose: repelling Stingbloods, demonic mosquitoes mutated by ambient dark energy. Adventurers had lost entire parties to these swarming pests. The candles, crafted by alchemists of the central region, emitted a magical light and smell that kept the creatures at bay.
Thanks to Leon's research before departing for the wilderness, the camp was properly prepared.
Twenty tents went up, enough for all forty-seven people and twenty-three horses. Leon stretched beneath the shade of his small tent, exhaustion finally catching up to him.
'It might actually be nice to have a pint of lager right now' he mused wistfully but luxuries like that didn't exist out here. Trade caravans avoided the Greenlands, and this was a land where only monsters and greenskins thrived.
He was just starting to relax when the sound of wings rustling startled him. The tent flap lifted, and a swift eagle glided in, its silver-tipped wings glimmering faintly in the dim light.
"Cid," Leon greeted softly, extending his arm. The eagle landed gracefully on his shoulder and nuzzled against him. Their bond forged through a blood contract allowed them to communicate without words.
In the silence between them, the eagle transmitted a message directly to Leon's mind.
{Master, danger approaches. Goblins lurk in the shadows. An ambush is imminent.}
Leon's relaxed expression hardened. "Thank you, Cid," he whispered, stroking the eagle's feathers.
Goblins were already nearby. And worse they were preparing to strike.
We've been careless.
He strode out of his tent to find several Barbarians still cooking lunch, while the knights had already burrowed into their tents. Not a single scout was on watch. Leon's jaw tightened. Without Cid, the goblins might've slipped right up to the camp.
He said nothing. Instead, he retrieved his sword from the supply box. He couldn't simply announce the attack no one knew about Cid, and his authority over the knights was limited.
Accompanied by three Barbarians, Leon climbed up beside the roaring waterfall. The sound of rushing water masked their approach as they scanned the forest below.
Leon peered over the edge, his sharp eyes scanning the dense foliage. "There, my lord," one of the barbarians noticed them first and pointed. He continued to speak as he pointed northward, "Look, goblins. Many of them."
"Yeah." Leon nodded.
"Fall back. Wake everyone and prepare for combat," Leon ordered quietly.
Although forty goblins sounded like a lot, the knights could easily handle them. Seasoned fighters with aura training could sweep aside primitive raiders like these with minimal losses.
Leon descended swiftly and approached Carlos. "Captain, we're in trouble. Forty goblins are approaching from the north."
"Goblins?" Carlos echoed, surprised.
Captain Carlos sounded rather surprised.
The 15 knights in their tents quickly grabbed their weapons and emerged with stern expressions. When they scanned the surrounding area, they did not find anything out of the ordinary.
Carlos did not doubt Leon and asked, "Your Lordship, where are they?"
"Over there, and they'll hit us real soon," Leon said as he pointed north of the lake.
"Get on your horses and get ready to fight."
Carlos gritted his teeth and glared at the knights behind him. He quickly berated them. "Damn it, you four will spend the night polishing everyone's boots. I told you to scout the area, yet you missed that many goblins out there."
The four knights looked glum, but they did not retort.
It had truly been their mistake. The four of them were tasked with scouting to the north.
"Your Lordship, I apologize for the matter, but we will deal with the goblins."
Carlos led the knights to mount their horses. They all took their lances and longswords along. He turned to Leon and seriously said, "We will all deploy, so we probably will not be able to cover for you. Please be careful, Your Lordship."
"No problem." Leon nodded.
The knights were never meant for defense. They would head out and hit the goblins head-on.
Leon turned to the Barbarians. "Prepare for combat. Follow me."
"Understood!" they roared, grabbing axes and clubs from the carriages.
Meanwhile, the fifteen knights spurred their horses northward.
"For the glory of Cailux!" they shouted as they leveled their lances and charged.
The goblins hadn't expected resistance. Emboldened by years of dominance in the Greenlands, they'd followed the scent of food to the lake unaware of who they were up against.
But when they saw knights thundering toward them, memories of the purge resurfaced. Terror spread through their ranks.
And the slaughter began.