Alaric took off, traversing the forest as quietly and quickly as possible. His breath came in short, controlled bursts as he moved through the underbrush, his senses heightened by the lingering adrenaline. Every rustle and crack of a twig made his heart race. He knew the goblins could be anywhere, and he needed to stay alert.
Suddenly, he heard a faint rustling sound to his left. He froze, his eyes scanning the darkness. The rustling grew louder, and he realized with a sinking feeling that it was more goblins, and this time, there were even more than before.
"Not again," he muttered, taking a cautious step back. But as he did, his foot landed on a dry branch, the loud snap echoing through the night. The goblins immediately turned their heads in his direction, their eyes gleaming with malevolent intent.
"Shit!" Alaric swore under his breath as the horde charged at him. He raised the rotary triple-barrel cannon and started firing, the air filling with the sound of rapid magic bullets tearing through the goblins. The first wave fell, but more kept coming, their numbers seemingly endless.
"This is bad," he thought, his mind racing. "I can't take them all down."
He began to run, firing behind him as he went. The cannon's weight was a burden, but it was his only hope of survival. He sprinted through the forest, only stopping briefly to fire and thin out the horde chasing him. Each pause felt like an eternity as he watched goblins fall, only to be replaced by more of their kin.
The goblins were relentless, gnawing and scratching at his heels. Alaric's heart pounded in his chest as he pushed himself to run faster, but the exhaustion was beginning to set in. Suddenly, one of the goblins lunged at him, and he had no choice but to draw Emberblast. He aimed and fired, but before he could react, a goblin with a mace came out of nowhere and struck the gun as it discharged.
The Emberblast exploded, the front barrel shattering into shards of metal and fire. The blast blinded the horde temporarily, and Alaric felt a searing pain in his hand. His vision now swimming with spots of light from the explosion.
"Keep moving," he told himself, the panic rising in his chest. He turned and ran, his mind a blur of fear and adrenaline. He didn't know where he was going; he just needed to get away from the goblins. The trees blurred past him, and he stumbled over roots and rocks, barely keeping his balance.
In his blind flight, he collided with something solid. His vision was still hazy, but he could make out the outline of a large tree. There was no time to think. He turned towards the goblins, who were now regaining their senses, and raised the rotary cannon.
"Come on, you bastards!" he shouted, his voice hoarse with desperation. He unleashed the full fury of the triple-barrel rotary cannon, the air around him filling with the deafening roar of magic bullets. The goblins screamed and fell, the ground littered with their bodies.
Alaric kept firing, his finger glued to the trigger. He didn't stop until there was nothing but silence. The forest was eerily silent now, the only sound his ragged breathing and the distant rustle of leaves.
He collapsed to his knees, the weight of the cannon finally too much to bear. His vision swam again, and he felt the world around him begin to fade. He had no idea how many goblins he had killed or if there were more coming. All he knew was that he had given everything he had.
As the darkness closed in, his last thought was a bitter one. "Damn it, this wasn't supposed to happen."
The world went black, and Alaric fell to the forest floor, unconscious and alone.
Alaric opened his eyes slowly, blinking against the sunlight streaming through the window. The warm glow filled the room, casting soft shadows on the walls. He tried to move, but a wave of pain washed over him, reminding him of the injuries he had sustained. Every muscle in his body ached, and he felt a dull throb in his hand where Emberblast had exploded.
"Where am I?" he wondered, trying to piece together his fragmented memories. The last thing he recalled was the desperate fight against the goblins and the blinding explosion. He turned his head slightly, taking in his surroundings. The room was modestly furnished, with a sturdy wooden bed, a small table, and a chair by the window. It was a far cry from the luxurious chambers of the Vargas estate, but it was clean and comfortable.
"You're awake," a voice said softly, and Alaric turned his head to see a woman standing by the door. She was middle-aged, with kind eyes and a gentle smile. "You've been out for a few days. We were worried you might not make it."
Alaric tried to sit up, but the pain was too much. He settled for propping himself up on one elbow. "Where am I?" he asked again, his voice hoarse.
"You're in the village of Merger," the woman replied, walking over to him. "My name is Lydia. My husband found you in the forest, unconscious and badly injured. We brought you here and tended to your wounds."
"Merger..." Alaric's mind raced. He had been trying to reach the city to warn Baroness Celeste Karmon about the goblin threat. "I need to speak to the Baroness. It's urgent."
Lydia shook her head gently. "You need to rest first. You're in no condition to go anywhere. The Baroness has already been informed that you're here. She'll come to see you when you're stronger."
Alaric frowned but nodded reluctantly. He knew she was right; he could barely move, let alone travel. "Thank you," he said quietly. "For saving me."
Lydia smiled again. "It's what anyone would do. Now, rest. I'll bring you some food and water."
As she left the room, Alaric lay back down, staring at the ceiling. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. The failed hunt, the goblin attack, the destruction of Emberblast—it all weighed heavily on him.
"I have to warn them," he thought. "If there's a goblin horde nearby, they need to be prepared."
Despite his resolve, exhaustion soon took over, and he drifted back into a fitful sleep.
The next time he woke, it was to the sound of voices. He opened his eyes to see Baroness Celeste Karmon standing by his bedside, flanked by two guards. She was a tall, imposing woman with sharp features and an air of authority.
"Alaric Vargas," she said, her voice cool and measured. "I hear you have important information for me."
Alaric struggled to sit up, the pain less intense this time. "Baroness Karmon," he began, "there's a massive goblin horde in the forest. I encountered a large group, and there are bound to be more. We need to prepare for an attack."
The Baroness regarded him for a moment, her expression unreadable. "I've already received reports of increased goblin activity," she said finally. "But your warning confirms the severity of the situation. We'll take the necessary precautions."
Alaric nodded, relieved. "Thank you. I just... I didn't want anyone else to get hurt."
"You've done well," she replied. "Rest and recover. We'll handle the rest."
As she turned to leave, Alaric felt a sense of relief wash over him. For now, he could rest, knowing that the warning had been delivered. But he also knew that this was only the beginning. The fight against the goblins was far from over, and he would need to be ready for whatever came next.
With that thought, he closed his eyes, letting sleep claim him once more.