The campfire crackled at the center of the cave, casting flickering shadows on the rocky walls. The weak heat of the flames barely managed to keep the creeping dampness of the packed earth floor at bay. The scent of roasted meat mixed with the natural odor of goblins—a stench of sweat, dried blood, and damp fur.
Grekh sat in silence near the cave's entrance. His gaze was fixed on nothing, fingers tightening around a small piece of dry wood he had found while gathering firewood. The warning he had given earlier still echoed in his mind. Humans were nearby. Warriors, trainers. The kind of men who killed goblins without hesitation, for nothing more than entertainment.
But no one listened.
In fact, the tribe seemed more concerned with finishing their meal than with the possibility of an invasion. The older goblins gnawed on the bones of small animals roasted over the fire. Some laughed at crude jokes while others sharpened their rudimentary weapons. Gnarz, the strongest warrior of the tribe, took a swig of a bitter drink made from fermented roots, his face showing no sign of concern.
Grekh clenched his teeth. Something inside him screamed that this wouldn't end well.
At the cave's entrance, the cold night wind whispered through the trees. The forest outside was too quiet. The silence wasn't normal.
Then he heard it.
Footsteps.
Not the light steps of a goblin or the lazy shuffle of a small beast. These were heavy. Precise. Organized.
He tensed.
The sounds multiplied. Footsteps echoed among the trees, accompanied by the faint clinking of metal. Grekh held his breath. Warriors were here.
He turned quickly, searching for Gnarz, but hesitated.
No one would notice.
The tribe was drowned in the sound of laughter, conversation, and the crackling of roasting meat. The noise masked everything outside.
A chill ran up Grekh's spine.
He stood slowly and took a step out of the cave, slipping into the darkness.
The shadows were his allies.
The forest was bathed in deep gloom, illuminated only by the pale glow of the moon. The trees cast ghostly silhouettes against the sky, swaying at the slightest breath of wind. Grekh moved cautiously, his feet making almost no sound on the damp ground.
Then he saw them.
Among the trees, six figures moved in formation. Tall men, clad in leather and iron armor, each carrying a gleaming blade at their waist. One held a long spear, its silver tip gleaming under the moonlight. Their faces were hidden beneath simple helmets, but their postures were rigid, disciplined.
Hunters.
Grekh knew the look of these warriors. He had seen them before. When he was younger, a similar group appeared near the tribe and massacred half of them with ease. He remembered the screams, the smell of warm blood, the cruel laughter of humans as they ran their blades through helpless bodies.
These men weren't here by accident.
They had come to hunt.
The goblin swallowed hard. If he didn't warn the tribe now, they'd all be dead before dawn.
But then he saw something else.
One of the warriors raised a hand and pointed toward the cave.
They already knew.
The sound of a sword being drawn echoed through the night's silence.
Grekh turned and ran.
His heart pounded as his feet pounded against the uneven ground, dodging roots and loose stones. The cave was close. He had to warn them. He had to make them listen.
He leaped into the shelter of the stone cavern, his eyes wide, chest heaving.
— Humans! — He shouted, loud enough for everyone to hear.
The laughter stopped. Silence fell over the tribe.
The nearest goblins turned to him, confused. Gnarz, seated on a large rock, frowned in irritation.
— What did you say, runt?
— Humans! They're coming! They already know we're here! — Grekh pointed toward the forest. — I saw them. They're armed, with spears and swords!
The goblins exchanged glances. Some frowned, others scoffed.
Gnarz stood slowly, grabbing one of his crude spears.
— If they come, we fight. It's not the first time humans have tried to catch us.
— These aren't lost merchants! They're hunters! — Grekh insisted.
Gnarz's expression darkened. He opened his mouth to retort, but then they heard it.
The first scream.
Outside, a goblin from the night patrol let out a cry of pain. The sound was cut short almost immediately, but the impact was felt.
A second later, a lifeless body rolled into the cave.
Blood pooled across the stone floor.
The tribe froze.
Then the chaos began.
Outside, the humans charged, swift as predators. Heavy footsteps echoed, weapons gleamed under the moonlight. The first spear flew through the cave's entrance, piercing through an unsuspecting goblin's chest. He collapsed backward with a wet thud, eyes wide in sudden death.
Gnarz roared, gripping his spear and rushing to the entrance.
— FIGHT!
But there was no fight to be had.
The humans were trained. Their formation was flawless. They moved as one, their blades cutting through flesh without hesitation. Goblins tried to fight back, but their crude weapons were useless against forged steel.
The stench of blood filled the cave.
Grekh froze for a second. His mind screamed at him to do something, anything. But he wasn't a warrior. He never had been.
Then, a goblin fell beside him, throat slit.
His eyes, lifeless, staring into nothingness.
Panic exploded inside him.
He turned and ran.
He sprinted down the darkest tunnel of the cave, where few goblins ever ventured. He knew there was an exit at the back, a narrow opening between the rocks.
Screams echoed behind him. Screams of his tribe, of goblins dying.
But he didn't look back.
His body trembled.
His legs burned.
He burst out of the cave, gasping for air, and plunged into the darkness of the forest.
The world spun around him. His heart pounded so hard he could barely hear anything else. He collapsed to his knees, hands grasping at the cold earth, sucking in deep breaths.
Then he felt it.
Something inside him was burning.
His body was boiling. Something inside him was growing, pulsing like a fire he had never felt before. His vision blurred, as if everything around him was trembling.
The ground beneath him began to vibrate.
The air grew heavy.
Grekh opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
His chest burned.
His mind screamed.
Then everything exploded in light.