The sounds of rapid footsteps echoed through the forest as a troop of over seven hundred demi-humans marched with a common purpose. They had no time to rest; their destination was far away, requiring more than ten hours of relentless walking. An average human would not survive such a trek, but these demi-humans were "augmented," twice as strong as regular humans. With their essence stones enhanced, they were now twice as powerful as they had been before.
Among them, a young half-ogre struggled under the weight of heavy luggage strapped to his back. He maneuvered through the crowd to join his companions, a dark expression etched on his face.
"It's too heavy!" Seth complained, adjusting the bag to prevent it from dragging on the ground. What he carried was precious cargo, after all.
Throughout their journey, they encountered creatures that sought their demise. Despite their numbers, these beasts were reckless enough to attack, but the officers leading the troop swiftly dealt with them.
Though burdened by the weight of the bag, Seth couldn't suppress the swell of pride rising within him. Even though he hadn't personally slain any of the creatures, he felt a deep sense of accomplishment. His patriarch and the officers could dispatch creatures classified as "monsters" with remarkable ease. A horde of iron monkeys posed no challenge for the two of them, nor for the two archers who accompanied the group, whose aim was unerring.
However, this prowess came at a price—he was stuck carrying a heavy bag filled with essence stones and monster skins. They were en route to the dwarf clan, a common practice to stock up on supplies for the little elves known for their craftsmanship.
The journey stretched on, and without any means to measure the passage of time, all Seth knew was that they were getting close.
"Yeah, yeah, we get told that every two hours," he muttered under his breath.
"Did you say something?" a soft voice asked from behind him.
Seth shivered at the familiar tone. He turned to see a young woman with warm brown skin, a thin horn protruding from her forehead, and short silver hair. She wore leather armor, and a large halberd rested casually on her shoulder.
Concern etched on her face, she scrutinized him. "Is it too heavy for you?" she inquired, her gaze focused on the bag he was hauling.
"Yes, Lady Dahlia," he replied, wearing his most dejected expression. "It constantly pulls me toward the ground. I feel like the bag is carrying me instead of the other way around."
"Don't look at me with those pitiful 'kobold' eyes; I can't help you," she said, brushing off his plea. "We're almost there—just hold on a little longer."
Disappointed, Seth trudged onward in silence, the weight of the bag making each step feel like a Herculean effort.
Time passed—an hour, then two, then three—without a break as they pressed through the forest.
Just as Seth was about to voice his complaints for the umpteenth time, a sudden noise startled him. Howls of fury and screams of agony pierced the air, resonating like a cacophony of chaos.
"A battlefield!" he exclaimed.
All the soldiers in the troop snapped to attention, drawing their weapons and advancing cautiously toward the source of the sounds. Lord Rakahn and Lady Dahlia led the way, their expressions set with determination.
As they neared, the noise became clearer: soldiers crying out for their mothers, desperate calls for help—each sound carried by the wind weaving through the trees.
"Legionnaires, prepare yourselves!" Lord Rakahn shouted. "I think we have arrived!"