Amukelo moved up the mountain carefully as the sky grew darker, his body heavy with exhaustion. Every step down the uneven path sent a dull ache through his legs, and his side still throbbed from where the Hollow Cutter had slashed him.
Even though his worst wounds had somehow healed, the strain of the days weighed on him. But finally, after what felt like an eternity, he reached the section of the mountain where vegetation became thicker.
He exhaled, relieved to be off the barren, rocky slopes, but his body felt sluggish, and he knew he had little energy left to deal with anything unexpected. He moved forward cautiously, keeping his senses sharp, forcing himself to push through the fatigue. His goal was simple—reach the cave, rest, and recover. But just as he was starting to feel some measure of safety, he heard a rustle, and voices.
He stopped dead in his tracks, his hand instinctively gripping the hilt of his sword. The sounds were faint but distinct—low chatter, guttural speech, and the unmistakable clicks and growls that he recognized immediately. His stomach clenched. Goblins again.
A surge of tension gripped his body, and he dropped low, slipping into the underbrush. His breath slowed as he pressed himself close to the ground, peering through the gaps in the foliage. The distant flicker of light danced between the trees, growing brighter. They were coming his way.
Then, emerging from the darkened path, three goblins appeared.
One of them carried a crude torch, its orange glow illuminating their squat, twisted forms. They weren't armored like some other he had seen in the past—these were scouts, hunters, probably patrolling the area.
"No way… now they've come to this side of the mountain too?"
Amukelo clenched his jaw, his heart pounding in frustration. The goblins had mostly stayed on the opposite side of the mountains. But now, they were here. He took a slow breath, forcing himself to stay calm, but deep down, he wanted to curse his luck.
The goblins continued moving, their chatter low and unintelligible, but then—they stopped.
Amukelo tensed.
One of them—the one without a weapon—lifted its head, sniffing the air. Then it made a guttural noise, turning in his direction.
Amukelo's mind was racing. Did it smell him? Did it hear him? Or was it just another random movement, like the Hollow Cutter? But even as he asked himself those questions, the answer became painfully clear. The goblin's head turned further, its yellowed eyes squinting, and then—it took a step toward him.
Slowly, carefully, Amukelo began backing away, keeping his movements controlled, making sure not to disturb the brush too much. He didn't wanted to fight them right now. Not while he was injured, exhausted, and still bleeding. But as he took another step, his heel touched something uneven.
His stomach dropped as he realized that behind him was a small cliff.
It wasn't high—maybe ten feet, just enough that under normal circumstances, he could climb it without too much trouble. But in his current state, it was a problem. His body was already worn down from the Hollow Cutter fight, and the deep stinging in his leg and side made climbing far more difficult than it should have been.
But he didn't have a choice. The goblin sniffed again, taking another step closer. Then another.
Amukelo turned quickly, gripping the rocky surface and pulling himself up. Pain shot through his arm as he put weight on it. His side burned where he had been cut earlier, but he gritted his teeth and forced himself upward. He didn't have time to hesitate.
He reached up, gripping a protruding rock. His footing slipped once, but he managed to recover, pulling himself higher. The goblins were close now. He could hear them, muttering, sniffing, moving toward where he had been just moments ago.
By the time he reached the top, they were already at his previous hiding spot.
His chest rose and fell heavily as he flattened himself against the ground, peering down cautiously. The goblins were now standing exactly where he had been. One of them bent down, inspecting the area, its clawed fingers brushing against the dirt.
Then—it sniffed again.
Its nostrils flared as its gaze swept the ground, fixating on a few fallen rocks and a faint trace of blood.
Amukelo's jaw clenched. Damn it. They had found signs of him.
The goblins muttered among themselves, their language sharp and fragmented, but after a short exchange, they lost interest. One of them kicked a loose rock, grunting in annoyance. The one holding the torch waved its hand, as if dismissing the whole thing, and after another moment, they moved on, disappearing into the trees.
Amukelo remained completely still, listening to them moving away.
Even when the sounds of their movements faded into the distance, he didn't move immediately.
After what felt like another agonizing few minutes, he finally exhaled and pushed himself up, putting as much distance between himself and that spot as he could. His legs felt heavy, his body sluggish, but he didn't stop moving. He wasn't about to risk running into another patrol.
When he finally felt he had put enough distance between himself and the goblins, he let out a slow, relieved sigh.
"Great. Now I have goblins on this side of the mountain too," he muttered bitterly. He looked up at the sky, which had now darkened considerably. If he didn't hurry, he'd be forced to navigate the mountain in complete darkness.
"I better get back quickly before I run into something worse."
Pushing through his exhaustion, he began the last stretch of his journey. The mountain terrain became steeper again, forcing him to pace himself, but he didn't stop. Step by step, he ascended the rocky path, his hands gripping the occasional outcrop to keep himself steady.
Finally he reached his cave. The entrance was just as he had left it. He stepped inside, the darkness wrapping around him like a long-lost shelter.
His body collapsed onto the ground, his breath heavy, his chest rising and falling.
"Ahh… it's good to be… home…" The word caught in his throat.
He stared at the ceiling of the cave, his mind drifting. Was this really his home? Was this all he had left?"
His fingers curled slightly as a flicker of sadness passed through him.
"Is this my home now?" he muttered to himself.
For a moment, he didn't have an answer. Finally, he sighed. "I don't know. At least I can rest here." And with that, he closed his eyes.
Amukelo spent the next days mostly on healing. His injuries weren't deep, but he would rather avoid any direct confrontation that could worsen his state. What bothered him was the increased activity of goblins on both sides of the mountain. Some groups moved in disorganized packs of six or seven, while others were larger, with trolls among them.
He avoided putting himself too close to them to avoid any danger, and as Amukelo watched one group with a troll, he whispered to himself, "If this keeps up, I'll have to leave the mountain. Staying here won't be worth it."
One morning, he spotted a smaller group of only four goblins meandering through the trees. It was the smallest group he'd seen in days, and they appeared isolated.
Goblins were weaker than the griffin he had faced before, but they were cunning in groups. Amukelo weighed his options, silently debating the risk. "Four isn't too many, and I am no longer wounded," he whispered. "If I'm careful, I should be able to take them out before they sound an alarm."
The goblins eventually stopped by a riverbank, two of them crouching to drink while the other two kept watch. The ones by the water seemed distracted, their crude weapons resting at their sides. Amukelo tightened his grip on his sword and crept closer.
When the moment came, Amukelo sprang from the bushes. He slashed cleanly through the throat of the first goblin before it could even raise its weapon. Blood sprayed as the creature collapsed with a gurgled cry, drawing the attention of its comrades.
The second goblin, one of the sentries, lunged at Amukelo with a snarl as it swung its rusted axe. Amukelo sidestepped, parrying the blow and countering with a forceful push that sent the goblin stumbling backward.
The commotion startled the two goblins at the water. They turned, eyes wide with alarm, and scrambled for their weapons. Amukelo acted swiftly, kicking the goblin he had pushed so hard that it fell into the river with a splash, its limbs flailing as it struggled to find footing on the slippery rocks.
Another goblin charged at him. Amukelo blocked its strike and retaliated with a quick slash across its torso. The goblin staggered, clutching its wound but refusing to fall. Before Amukelo could finish it, the goblin at the waterline let out a guttural cry, signaling others.
"Not today," Amukelo growled, his focus narrowing as the third goblin closed in. He shifted his weight and delivered a powerful elbow to the goblin's face. The creature stumbled, dazed, and Amukelo took the opening to drive his sword into its chest. He pulled his blade free with a grunt, stepping back just in time to avoid another attack from the injured goblin he had slashed earlier.
The wounded goblin lunged, but Amukelo sidestepped effortlessly. With a single, fluid motion, he severed its head, the body crumpling lifelessly to the ground.
Glancing toward the river, he realized the goblin he had kicked was no longer there. His eyes darted through the trees, scanning for movement. Then he spotted it as it tried to escape.
"Not so fast," Amukelo muttered. He drew a dagger from his belt. Then Amukelo threw his dagger, striking the creature squarely in the back. The goblin fell with a pained screech but still clawed at the ground, dragging itself forward.
Amukelo strode toward it, his expression hardening. He knelt beside the goblin, who turned its terrified eyes toward him, its mouth working soundlessly as blood spilled from its lips. He raised his sword and brought it down with finality.
For a moment, he stood there, breathing heavily, surveying the carnage. Four goblins, all dead. If even one of them had escaped, it could have drawn the attention of the larger groups roaming the mountains.
Sheathing his sword, Amukelo scanned the area once more before retreating into the forest