Somewhere, a little further from the ogre village, Freiden, the ancient Elven village, was surrounded by soldiers who were simply waiting for the signal to attack. Just outside the entrance to the village, two goblins lay dead on the ground, their heads violently torn off, and their heads brutally slashed to the point where they were barely unrecognizable.
With a splashing sound, the head of what was left of the creature was crushed under the boot of an elf with emerald eyes filled with rage, he looked like he was angry... no, very angry, that he had put almost all his strength into his stomping, Cain stood in front of the entrance, two pairs of long red daggers in his hands, he glared at the group of goblins who were staring at him fearfully, not knowing whether they should attack or not.
