The forest grew darker as they pushed through the undergrowth, the trees pressing close on either side, branches clawing at their cloaks. Ahead, Perberos signalled for silence, leading them into a shallow clearing that led to the edge of the goblin camp. The ground here sloped gently downwards, providing a view of the torchlight flickering below.

  “This’ll do,” Josh murmured, crouching beside a cluster of moss-covered rocks. “We’ve got cover, good sightlines, and enough space to pull back if we have to. Where should I try and hold them at, do we reckon?”

  Perberos nodded, already scanning the area with a practiced eye. “There, that overturned cart. Looks like the remains of a merchant ambush. We can use it to shield your left side.”

  Josh followed his gaze. The cart sat half-buried in the soil, one wheel splintered, the other still turning slightly in the breeze. It would make decent cover, and the sturdy frame could stop an arrow or two.

  Bheldur clapped his gauntlets together quietly. “A fine spot to break some skulls.”

  Brett crouched beside them, pulling a scroll from his pack. His hands trembled slightly as he unrolled it. “I’ve been studying that spell Caistina showed me. It’s called fireball.” His voice was low, almost reverent, his eye catching Josh’s. “I think I can cast it now, but…” He hesitated, eyes flicking toward the camp. “I wish I’d had the chance to test it first.”

  Carcan raised an eyebrow. “Better to test it on goblins than trees, I’d say.”

  Josh grinned, though his voice carried a steady confidence. “Then that’s our opening move. You drop your fireball right into the thick of them. As many as you can hit, as often as you can manage. Perb, pick off anything that strays too far from the main group.”

  Perberos gave a short nod, already stringing his bow. “I’ll keep the flanks covered.”

  “When the camp’s riled up,” Josh continued, “I’ll draw their attention. Bheldur, you stay tight to my left, guard my flank from behind the cart? Don’t overextend. Hopefully we can chop away at them that way.”

  Bheldur’s grin widened beneath his beard. “Aye, Captain. I’ll keep yer rear safe.”

  They spread out, taking positions. Perberos climbed partway up a tree, settling into the branches with an archer’s poise. Carcan behind a fallen tree that gives her a clear line of sight to the cart, her staff angled forward, eyes scanning for movement. Brett knelt next to her, whispered incantations under his breath, gathering mana.

  Josh stood behind a tree, crouched low behind his shield, the weight of Garrick’s iron helm grounding him. The forest was still but heavy with the anticipation of violence. Through the gaps in the trees, faint green light danced as goblins moved about their camp, unaware of what waited above. Bheldur stood near him, bouncing from foot to foot, eager to get started.

  Brett looked up once more, meeting Josh’s eyes. “Ready.”

  Josh took a deep breath, feeling the tension coil inside him like a drawn bow. “Then let’s make it count.”

  A sharp whistle cut through the trees. The signal from Ronald.

  For a heartbeat, everything was still. Then chaos erupted.

  Arrows streaked through the air from multiple directions, hissing into the camp below. Spells started to land shortly after, detonating around the monsters. Goblins screamed in confusion, some dropping instantly, others scrambling for weapons. The faint green torchlight flickered wildly as the first volley struck home.

  Brett took a steadying breath. His pulse hammered in his ears as he gripped his staff, focusing on the runes Caistina had shown him. The words of the incantation rolled from his tongue, clumsy at first, then smoother, instinct guiding him where memory faltered. Heat flared down his spine, his fingers tingling as mana surged through him.

  A blazing orb of fire spiralled from the end of his staff, arcing high before crashing down into a cluster of goblins gathered near a crude cooking pit. The explosion rocked the camp, flames roaring, wooden stakes splintering, creatures howling as fire consumed them.

  A faint shimmer flashed across Brett’s vision:

  [Skill Advanced: Sage → Adept]

  [New Spell Learnt: Fireball – Basic]

  “Holy shit.” His eyes widened. He’d done it. The drain was heavy, he could feel his mana burning fast but the sheer power of it sent a thrill coursing through him.

  He barely paused to watch the devastation. Goblins scattered in panic, their shrieks echoing through the hollow, but Brett’s grin was wild now. He began chanting again, his voice louder, more confident.

  A second fireball tore through the air, this one striking a group near the bone totems. The blast threw bodies and debris skyward, setting tents and crude barricades alight. Smoke billowed, thick and acrid, and the once-coordinated mob below dissolved into chaos.

  Perberos grinned, the string of his bow humming as he drew it back again. He picked off lone goblins at the edges of groups, those that broke from the herd or tried to rally others, each shot clean and deliberate. He left the clustered ones to Brett’s fireballs, knowing full well what kind of devastation the mage was unleashing.

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  The camp below was descending into chaos. Firelight danced wildly across the clearing, smoke rising in thick plumes that carried the stench of burning hide and wood. Goblins shrieked and scattered, some tripping over each other in their panic as arrows and spells rained down from all sides.

  Across the field, Perberos could see other parties making their moves, one group launching volleys of ice shards, another raining arrows in a steady rhythm. Somewhere on the far flank, a warrior bellowed a battle cry, the sound echoing over the roar of fire.

  The air was alive with noise: the crack of spells, the hiss of arrows, the dull thuds of collapsing tents and panicked screams. Fires spread from camp to barricade to tent, consuming everything they touched.

  Perberos smiled, picking off lone goblins one by one with crisp, practiced shots, leaving the clustered ones to Brett. The camp erupted into confusion as another fireball lands. It strikes with a hollow whump, then blossoms into a roaring inferno that consumes a half-dozen goblins in a flash. The blast throws smaller creatures from their feet, their shrieks mixing with the crackle of burning canvas as one of the tents ignites. The orange glow spreads like a living thing, devouring everything nearby.

  Brett barely has time to register what he’s done before instinct takes over. His heart raced, the heat from the explosion washing across his face even from a distance. He started chanting again, faster this time, the familiar strain of mana drain biting at his chest. Another fireball formed between his palms, brighter, heavier and after he finished chanting his spell, it arcs into the air like a miniature sun before slamming down on another cluster of goblins near the camp’s centre. The explosion tore through them, scattering burning debris in every direction. Brett smiled, realising he could cast around three fireballs a minute.

  Screams fill the afternoon air. Goblins staggered out of the blaze, their crude weapons in their hands, their green skin blackening and blistering under the heat. A nearby lean-to collapsed, its frame engulfed in flames, and for a moment the camp looks less like a battlefield and more like the mouth of a volcano.

  From his position, Perberos lowered his bow just long enough to glance at Brett, who’s standing tall and wide-eyed, his expression caught between shock and exhilaration.

  The goblins’ frantic screeching carries through the trees. The ambush had turned from a surprise attack into pure devastation, fire raining from the sky, confusion and fear spreading through the camp like wildfire itself.

  Perberos loosed another arrow, hitting a goblin that had tried to flee toward the woods. He allowed himself a small, satisfied breath. “This might actually work,” he murmured.

  For a fleeting moment, it looked like victory. The goblin ranks were breaking, panic spreading throughout them, the orcs slow to rally, and every moment of confusion meant fewer enemies to face later. The adventurers had control of the fight, and for the first time since spotting the dungeon, Perberos dared to believe they might end this before it truly began.

  Then through the chaos and the roaring of flames, a sound cut through the cacophony. A manic, guttural cackle that cuts through the din like a blade. Every head turns toward the centre of the camp. A pulse of crimson light bursts outward, spilling a thick red fog that rolls across the ground, creeping through tents and around burning wreckage like a living thing.

  The moment it touched the goblins, everything changed. Their panicked shrieks die out mid-cry. Their movements stutter, then resume with unnatural precision. One by one, their wide, terrified eyes glaze over, pupils dilating until only bloodshot whites remain. The air hums with dark magic as the fog continues to spread, soaking into their skin, their veins glowing faintly with the same malignant red.

  Then they moved, all at once. The disorganised chaos becomes a single, surging mass. Goblins charged toward the different groups in the treeline in a frenzied unison, trampling over their fallen, ignoring the spreading fire and the screams of their burning kin. Some snatch up bows from the ground, their movements jerky but purposeful, and loose a flurry of arrows blindly into the forest.

  Josh barely had time to react. He saw the glint of a flying arrow and lunges sideways towards Carcan, raising his shield just in time to intercept it with a solid thunk. The impact shuddered through his arm. The shaft splintered harmlessly off the rim, inches from Carcan’s head. The young elf jerked back, eyes wide, the flickering firelight painting her face in shades of orange and red.

  “Stay behind cover!” Josh shouted, scanning the burning camp for the source of that manic laughter, the figure behind the fog. But the smoke and the mist is too thick now, swallowing everything beyond a few meters into a crimson haze. Somewhere inside it, the laughter came again, lower this time, almost gleeful.

  As the goblins begin to surge forward through the burning camp, Perberos shouted over the chaos, “Josh! You’re up!”

  Josh nodded once, adrenaline spiking, and breaks from cover. His boots tore through the underbrush as he sprinted toward the overturned cart. Up close, he can see deep gouges in the earth, whatever dragged it here was huge, the wheels split and half-buried in mud. The wooden frame smoulders faintly, one side blackened by one of Brett’s earlier fireballs. It won’t be moving again.

  Arrows start to hiss through the air. One slams into his shield with a dull thud, another bites into the ground by his foot, and a third whips past his ear close enough that he feels the air split. Then pain flares, sharp and immediate, as a shaft buries itself in his shoulder. He grits his teeth, staggers behind the cart, and swears under his breath. His arm goes numb for a heartbeat, and panic flashes through him; without that arm, his shield would be useless.

  Before he can even reach for the arrow, warmth blooms over the wound, soft, soothing, and tinged with green light. He feels the pain recede as the healing magic takes hold. The arrow shudders, then pops free, dropping to the dirt with a wet clink.

  “Thanks, Carcan!” he shouted back, rolling his shoulder once. The ache lingers, but he can move again.

  He plants his shield in front of him and slams his sword against it, the clang ringing out over the chaos. “Come on, then!” he roars, his voice booming deeply, almost animalistic. The sound cuts through the camp’s noise, and several goblins turn toward him, drawn by the challenge. Their eyes are still glazed red, their snarls hollow and mindless.

  In the back of his mind, Josh hears the system chime, something had happened but he didn’t have time to figure out what it was.

  The first few goblins break into a sprint, shrieking as they charge. Josh sets his stance, bracing behind the wrecked cart, and readies for impact. Then, from behind him, a familiar gravelly voice rumbles through the tension. “I’m with you,” Bheldur says, stepping up beside him, axe already raised. “Don’t worry about your left.”

  Josh glances at him, grinning despite the pounding in his chest. “Good. Let’s make them regret coming out of the dungeon.”

  A scribe’s ink runs richer when cheered by the crowds

  If this chapter made you smile, gasp, or shout “plot twist!”, let me know in the comments!