The fire sphere arced through darkness like a miniature comet, trailing sparks.
Two hundred meters in three seconds.
It hit the first food pit dead center.
WHOOOOMP.
Flame exploded outward, engulfing the hide covering and igniting everything below. Dried meat, oils, fats—perfect fuel. The fire spread rapidly, explosion to inferno in heartbeats.
Goblin shouts erupted. Sentries scrambled. Warriors grabbed buckets.
[BEAUTIFUL! Again! DO IT AGAIN!]
Don was already moving, circling left through shadows. He repositioned for the second pit.
Another sphere. 30 mana. Another throw.
WHOOOOMP.
The second pit became an inferno.
Panic spreading. Don could hear Vroksh's voice roaring commands in goblin language, trying to organize response.
Don moved faster now, his Agility carrying him through undergrowth like a ghost. The third pit was better guarded—five sentries instead of two—but all focused on the fires, not the forest.
Third sphere. Third throw.
WHOOOOMP.
All stored food was burning.
[ELEMENTAL MANIPULATION - FIRE: NOVICE → ADEPT]
[KNOWLEDGE INTEGRATION COMPLETE]
[FIRE MASTERY: SIGNIFICANTLY IMPROVED]
Don felt the shift immediately—his understanding of fire deepened. He knew instinctively how to make flames hotter, spread faster, control burn patterns with precision.
But he didn't stop.
The tents were next.
Don created another sphere—larger this time, 50 mana—and hurled it toward the warrior tents. The crude hide structures went up like paper, flames leaping tent to tent.
Another sphere. Another section burning.
Full panic now. Warriors running everywhere. Shamans trying to summon water but too few, fires spreading too fast.
Don targeted the shaman quarters. Their dried ritual herbs were perfect kindling.
WHOOOOMP.
Half the camp was burning. The night sky lit orange-red, mixing with the Shadowfen's crimson glow into apocalyptic hellscape.
[MANA: 3,690/3,960]
Plenty left. But he'd accomplished tonight's goal.
Three food pits destroyed. Dozens of tents burned. Chaos and confusion.
Tomorrow they'd be hungry and tired.
Don melted back into the forest, his yellow eye reflecting flames as he disappeared.
Behind him, six hundred voices screamed into the night.
DAY TWO - DAWN
Don watched from a different tree, this one three hundred meters from camp.
The aftermath was visible even from here. Blackened sections where tents had been. Scorched earth where food pits had burned. Goblins moving like disturbed ants, trying to salvage, reorganize, understand.
Vroksh stood in the center, barking orders. Vex was nowhere visible—probably in his pavilion, the only structure that hadn't burned.
[They look MISERABLE, little seed! Tired, hungry, confused! And we've only just STARTED!]
Don activated Analyze, scanning for hunting parties.
[DETECTING MOVEMENT PATTERNS…]
[HUNTING PARTIES IDENTIFIED: 5]
[PARTY SIZE: 10-15 GOBLINS EACH]
[DIRECTION: DISPERSING INTO FOREST]
There. Five groups heading out to hunt, gather, find food to replace what burned.
Don smiled coldly. They wouldn't find anything.
He descended and began tracking the nearest party. Fifteen goblins, moving northeast, talking loudly in their grinding language. Undisciplined. Probably hadn't slept.
Perfect.
Don followed for twenty minutes, staying invisible in the shadows. When they spread out to search—amateur mistake—he struck.
The rear-most goblin never saw the Executioner's Edge blade that took its head.
The body dropped silently into moss.
[+20 XP]
Don moved to the next straggler. Another silent kill.
[+20 XP]
The party didn't notice until they'd lost five members. Then panic—shouting, weapons raised, spinning in circles trying to find the threat.
Don created a fire dagger with his left hand while his right blade hovered ready. He threw the dagger into one goblin's throat while the blade took another from behind.
[+20 XP]
[+20 XP]
The remaining eight tried to form defensive circle. Too slow, too panicked, too tired from fighting fires all night.
Don's two Executioner's Edge blades moved like extensions of thought, attacking from different angles simultaneously. One high, one low. One thrust, one slash. Impossible to defend against both.
Three minutes later, all fifteen were dead.
[HUNTING PARTY 1/5: ELIMINATED]
Don moved to the next party without pause.
FOUR HOURS LATER
Don crouched in shadows, watching the fifth and final hunting party return to camp.
Empty-handed.
Not just empty-handed—decimated. Of the original fifteen, only three survived, and they were wounded, terrified, babbling about "shadow demon" and "death from nowhere."
[They're BROKEN already! Look at them! Those three are more afraid of going back into the forest than they are of Vroksh's punishment!]
Vroksh met them at the camp perimeter. Even from three hundred meters, Don could see the commander's rage.
The goblin's voice carried—harsh, furious, demanding answers.
The three survivors could only shake and point at the forest.
Vroksh struck one of them, sending it sprawling. Then he turned and started barking orders to the camp. Don couldn't understand the language, but the body language was clear.
Doubled sentries. Patrols reinforced. No more small hunting parties—if they went out again, it would be in force.
Smart. Vroksh was adapting quickly.
But it didn't matter. The damage was done.
[HUNTING PARTIES: 5/5 ELIMINATED]
[CAMP STATUS: NO FOOD, DAMAGED SHELTERS, MORALE DECLINING]
[GOBLIN LOSSES: 73 KILLED]
[HOST XP: 2,307/4,000]
Don checked the sky. The crimson twilight was deepening again—night approaching.
Time for phase three.
DAY TWO - NIGHT
The camp was more organized now. Vroksh had implemented strict watch rotations, doubled guards, established overlapping patrol routes.
It wouldn't save them.
Don crouched four hundred meters out—well beyond bow range, well beyond any realistic detection distance—and raised both hands.
Elemental Manipulation. Lightning this time.
He'd never used this element before. It was one of the "complex" elements—harder to control, more mana-intensive, more dangerous.
Perfect.
Don focused, imagining crackling energy, the smell of ozone, the sound of thunder. His mana responded, eager.
Blue-white electricity arced between his fingers, growing, intensifying. He shaped it carefully—not a bolt, but a spear. Solid lightning, compressed and controlled, with an explosive payload.
The mana cost was significant—80 points—but the result was devastating.
[SKILL: ELEMENTAL MANIPULATION ACTIVATED]
[ELEMENT: LIGHTNING]
[MANA COST: 80]
[CREATING: LIGHTNING SPEAR]
The weapon crackled in his hands, barely contained. Don aimed for the center of camp—not trying to hit anyone specifically, just create chaos.
He threw.
The lightning spear crossed four hundred meters in less than a second—too fast to see, too fast to react. It hit the ground near the command pavilion and detonated.
CRACK-BOOOOM!
Thunder split the night. Lightning exploded outward in all directions, arcing through metal weapons, cooking any goblin within ten meters, setting tents ablaze, leaving a crater three meters wide.
Screaming. Immediate, total panic.
[YESSSS! More! MORE!]
Don created another lightning spear. 80 mana. Aimed at a different section.
Threw.
CRACK-BOOOOM!
Another explosion. More chaos. More screaming.
Again. Third spear. Third detonation.
CRACK-BOOOOM!
The camp was in absolute pandemonium.
Goblins running in every direction, some on fire, others electrocuted, all terrified. They couldn't see where the attacks were coming from—Don was too far away, hidden in darkness.
Vroksh was shouting orders but nobody listened. They were too busy panicking, trying to survive.
Don created a fourth spear. Fifth. Sixth.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
Each explosion tore through the camp like the wrath of some angry god. Craters. Fire. Death. Chaos.
[ELEMENTAL MANIPULATION - LIGHTNING: NOVICE → ADEPT]
[KNOWLEDGE INTEGRATION COMPLETE]
[LIGHTNING MASTERY: SIGNIFICANTLY IMPROVED]
Don felt the shift—his control over lightning became instinctive. He understood voltage, amperage, discharge patterns. The element answered him now like an old friend.
He created three more spears in rapid succession, hurling them into the camp.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
[MANA: 2,750/3,960]
Enough. Any more and he'd drain too much mana. Besides, the goal wasn't to kill them all—just to deny them sleep, to keep them terrified, to break their will.
Don melted back into the forest, leaving behind a camp that looked like a battlefield.
No sleep tonight. Not for any of them.
DAY THREE - DAWN
Don observed from yet another position, this one five hundred meters out.
The camp was a disaster.
Goblins everywhere looked like walking corpses—eyes hollow, movements sluggish, weapons held loosely. No food for two days. No sleep for two nights. Constant terror, constant death.
They were breaking.
Don could see it in their body language. The way they flinched at shadows. The way they argued with each other, shoving, snarling. Discipline collapsing into paranoia and fear.
[Look at them, little seed! They're eating EACH OTHER! Literally! That group there—they're fighting over scraps of MEAT and I don't think it's animal!]
Don watched coldly. Three goblins were indeed fighting over something, weapons drawn. One killed another. The third ran.
Nobody intervened. Everyone too tired, too hungry, too broken to care.
More fights breaking out across the camp.
Small ones at first—arguments over water, over space, over nothing. Then escalating. Weapons drawn. Blood spilled.
Vroksh tried to restore order, his voice hoarse from shouting. He executed two goblins who'd been fighting—made an example of them.
It didn't help. If anything, it made things worse. Now the goblins weren't just afraid of the invisible attacker—they were afraid of their own commander.
Then Don saw it.
A group of maybe thirty warriors—larger, better-armed than the others—approached Vroksh. Their body language was aggressive, confrontational.
The leader, a particularly large goblin with a crude axe, was shouting. Pointing at Vroksh. Pointing at the ruins of the camp.
Blaming him.
Vroksh's response was immediate. Bile Spit—the acid hit the large goblin's face, melting it instantly. The creature dropped, screaming.
But the other twenty-nine didn't back down. They attacked.
[Oh! OH! MUTINY! They're turning on each other! This is PERFECT!]
The fight was brief but brutal. Vroksh was powerful—Stage 1 Peak, with poison magic and combat experience.
He killed eight of them before the numbers overwhelmed him.
The remaining twenty-one warriors tore him apart.
Then they started fighting each other over who would lead.
Don watched with cold satisfaction as the camp descended into complete chaos.
Goblins killing goblins. No organization. No discipline. No leadership except—
Vex.
The General emerged from his pavilion for the first time since the attacks began.
And the moment he appeared, everything stopped.
That toxic aura—that 15-meter radius of absolute poison control—spread outward like a wave. Every goblin within range dropped to their knees, choking, gasping, some dying instantly.
Vex raised his staff, and his Poison Whisper echoed across the camp.
Don couldn't understand the words—they were in goblin language—but he could see the effect.
Every goblin that heard it bled from the ears. Some collapsed. Others clutched their heads, screaming.
But they obeyed.
Within minutes, the chaos stopped. The fighting ended. The survivors—maybe four hundred left now—formed into ragged ranks.
Vex had reasserted control through sheer, overwhelming terror.
[Well. That's… unfortunate. The General is stronger than I thought. He just killed fifty of his own troops and the rest are MORE loyal now, not less. Fear is a powerful motivator, little seed.]
Don's yellow eye narrowed.
The camp was broken. The goblins were broken. But Vex himself?
Still strong.
Still dangerous. Still very much a Stage 2 threat with absolute control over his remaining forces.
This was going to be harder than planned.
Don activated Analyze one more time, studying Vex carefully.
[ANALYZING GENERAL VEX…]
[CURRENT STATUS:]
Mana: ~2,100/2,400
Stamina: 67/98 (tired but functional)
Mental State: Enraged, Focused, Hunting
[WARNING: SUBJECT IS ACTIVELY SEARCHING FOR HOST]
[POISON-SENSE RANGE: 50 METERS]
[RECOMMEND: MAINTAIN DISTANCE]
Don pulled back, retreating deeper into the forest.
Vex was hunting him now. Actively. And that poison-sense—the way he "saw" through detecting toxins—had a 50-meter range.
Don needed a new approach.
He needed to draw Vex out. Away from the camp. Away from the remaining four hundred goblins. Somewhere isolated where Don could use his speed and tactics without worrying about being overwhelmed.
But how?
[You need BAIT, little seed. Something the General wants more than safety. More than his army. Something that threatens his PRIDE.]
Don's mind worked through possibilities.
Then it came to him.
Vex was blind. He saw through poison-sense. Which meant…
Don created a fire dagger with his Elemental Manipulation. Not to throw. To burn.
He found a large tree, ancient and thick, and carved words into the bark with the flame.
Large letters, crude but readable:
"VEX THE COWARD"
"AFRAID TO FACE ME ALONE"
"HIDES BEHIND WEAKLINGS"
Simple. Brutal. Direct.
Insult his pride. Challenge his strength. Make it personal.
Don carved the message into three more trees, each one closer to the camp, creating a trail that led deeper into the forest.
The final tree, he marked with an arrow pointing toward a clearing he'd scouted earlier—roughly two kilometers from camp, surrounded by dense forest, isolated.
Perfect arena.
Then Don retreated to the clearing and waited.
TWO HOURS LATER
Don heard him before he saw him.
The sound of dying vegetation.
The smell of rot and corruption. The faint hiss of toxic fluid dripping onto moss.
Vex was coming.
And he was furious.
The General emerged from the forest into the clearing, his white eyes somehow glaring despite having no pupils. His staff pulsed with purple light, the plague inside writhing with agitation.
Behind him—nothing. No guards. No army.
He'd come alone.
[He took the BAIT! Oh, little seed, he's so ANGRY! Look at him! He's practically vibrating with RAGE!]
Vex's Poison Whisper echoed across the clearing, the words incomprehensible but the tone clear: fury.
Don stepped out from the tree line, both Executioner's Edge blades hovering behind his shoulders.
Level 10 versus Level 14.
Stage 1 versus Stage 2.
One human versus a General who'd survived 184 years.
Don's yellow eye glowed in the crimson twilight.
"Let's see if you're worth the trouble," he said quietly.
Vex's response was immediate.
The General raised his staff, and the 15-meter zone of absolute poison control exploded outward.
The moss turned black.
The air became toxic. Everything within that radius died instantly—insects, fungi, plants, all dissolved into sludge.
And at the center, Vex stood like a god of rot and decay.
Don stayed exactly 16 meters away. Just outside the kill-zone.
The battle was about to begin.