Jordan's eyes narrowed as he scanned the creature's body, his gaze locking onto a peculiar ring on its finger. The ring was black, its surface etched with intricate patterns that seemed almost alive. It exuded a dark, foreboding aura, one that sent a small shiver down his spine the longer he stared at it.
"Now what's this?" Jordan muttered to himself.
Against his better judgment, he reached out and slid the ring off the goblin's thick finger. The moment it left the creature's hand, something happened that made him freeze in place.
The goblin's body began to shift and twist unnaturally. Its frame shrank before his very eyes, the broad chest and muscular limbs withering away. Its human-like physique faded as it regressed, morphing back into the familiar, malnourished form of a normal goblin.
"What the hell…" Jordan whispered, his grip tightening around the ring as he took a step back.
The transformation left the goblin's corpse frail and unassuming, almost pitiful. Yet the ring in his hand pulsed faintly, as though alive. Jordan could feel the cold, dark energy emanating from it, sending chills up his arm.
He turned the ring over in his hand, examining its intricate design. It was unlike anything he'd ever seen before, and whatever it was, it had clearly been responsible for the goblin's transformation.
"This thing…" he trailed off, unsure whether to be terrified or intrigued. Was it a tool, a curse, or perhaps both?
Jordan slid the ring into his pocket, deciding it was better to study it later. For now, he couldn't shake the unease that clung to him, as if he'd just stumbled onto something far bigger than he'd anticipated.
Jordan's attention shifted to the corner of the room, where a chest lay partially obscured by debris. He approached it slowly, his eyes narrowing as he took in its appearance.
The chest didn't fit the crude nature of the goblin camp. Unlike the ramshackle huts and makeshift weapons he'd seen, this was clearly crafted with care. Its wooden frame, though worn, bore a polished finish, and the iron bands reinforcing it looked professional and deliberate.
"What are you doing here?" Jordan muttered, crouching down to inspect it closer.
His fingers ran over the surface, tracing the smooth grain of the wood. Despite its relatively simple design, it exuded an air of value, as though it belonged to someone important—or someone who had raided someone important.
Jordan tested the lid, but it didn't budge. Locked. Of course.
He pulled his dagger from his side and slid the blade into the gap between the lid and the frame. With a bit of effort and a sharp twist, the lock snapped, and the chest creaked open.
Inside, a few items lay scattered. The first thing that caught his eye was a folded piece of cloth, rich in texture and vibrant in color, clearly not something goblins would make. Beneath it lay a small leather-bound book, its cover embossed with faint runes that had long since faded. A faint sense of importance clung to it, though Jordan had no way of knowing why.
Among the other contents, he spotted a vial of liquid, its contents shimmering faintly in the dim light, and a small pouch that jingled softly when he picked it up.
"Interesting," Jordan murmured, pocketing the items one by one. He'd have to inspect them more thoroughly back at camp, but for now, they were better in his possession than left here to rot.
He gave the room one last glance, his gaze lingering on the now-shrunken goblin body. Whatever had happened here, it was clear this camp wasn't abandoned by chance. Something bigger was going on, and Jordan had just stumbled into the middle of it.
Jordan moved through the remaining rooms, each one as desolate and foul-smelling as the last. He carefully searched for anything of value, but most of what he found was broken, rotting, or utterly useless.
In one corner, however, he spotted a small pouch lying partially hidden beneath a pile of discarded rags. He picked it up and opened it, revealing a modest collection of silver coins. Jordan turned the pouch over in his hand, the coins clinking softly together.
"Not bad," he muttered. While it wasn't a fortune, silver was silver, and it could prove useful down the line if he ever found a place to trade.
The goblins' weapons were another matter. Rusted swords, crude spears, and brittle clubs littered the ground, all barely serviceable as weapons, let alone worth carrying. Jordan picked one up, inspecting the jagged edge. It was clear the goblins had no real skill in crafting.
"Figures," he sighed, tossing the weapon back onto the pile.
With nothing else of value to be found, Jordan made his way back to the central room, his thoughts lingering on the black ring now tucked safely into his pocket and the mysterious chest contents. Whatever answers he sought, they weren't going to be found here.
"Time to head back," he muttered to himself, stepping back out into the unsettling quiet of the goblin camp.
...
Jordan sat by the fire, poking at the embers as the aroma of roasted boar filled the air. He couldn't help but replay everything he'd seen at the goblin camp in his mind—the eerie silence, the mangled bodies, the strange chest, and most of all, the ring.
What could have caused such devastation? And why was that goblin so different? These questions gnawed at him as much as his growing hunger.
Taking a bite of the boar meat, he glanced around. It was odd—ever since returning, the forest had been eerily quiet. No rustling leaves, no distant growls, no signs of movement. It was as if the monsters in this area had vanished.
"Too quiet," he muttered, chewing slowly. The usual tension of the forest was missing, and while that should've been a relief, it only unsettled him further.
He leaned back, staring at the markings now reaching his elbow. Whatever was happening out there, it wasn't normal. Something was changing, and he had the unsettling feeling that he was walking right into the middle of it.