The aftermath was a grim contrast to the chaos that had just ended. The air still smelled of scorched flesh and burnt earth, and the faint crackle of Brett’s last fireball lingered somewhere behind them. The adventurers regrouped with the battered party they’d just saved, weapons lowered but eyes still wary for movement.

  Josh’s gaze swept the clearing, then caught on the still form lying on the ground. Koz’ru Willowblesser, the beastfolk mage, lay sprawled on his side, his once-gleaming fur now matted with blood. An arrow jutted from his throat, the shaft blackened by the fire that had rolled across the battlefield.

  Beside the body knelt Zolma Studz, the human mage, trembling as she pressed her hands against the wound that no longer bled. Tears streamed down her face, streaking through the grime. Her voice broke as she spoke.

  “It was too fast,” she said, barely more than a whisper. “The arrow... it... it hit before we could even react. He didn’t... he didn’t have time to cast anything.”

  Carcan crouched beside her, soon joined by Vokal. The blood beneath Koz’ru had pooled thick and dark, soaking into the dirt. There was no mistaking it, the mage had died almost instantly.

  Bhel removed his helm, bowing his head briefly, standing a small distance away with Josh, joined by Brett, Perberos and the other party soon after.. “A good death, fighting with his comrades,” he said quietly, though even he sounded weary.

  The other adventurers stood around in silence. All of them bore wounds, some light, others deep and ugly. One guard leaned heavily on his spear, a strip of cloth tied around his thigh already soaked through.

  Carcan rose to her feet and moved quickly, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. “Sit, all of you. We’ll get you patched up.”

  Zolma wiped her eyes and forced herself upright, nodding. “I’ll help.” Her voice cracked, but she raised her staff, pale light blooming around her fingers as she began to cast. Together, she and Carcan worked through the wounded, their spells weaving through the group, soft green and blue light flickering against the bloody faces.

  Josh turned away for a moment, scanning the tree line, but the forest was still here. No monsters stirred, but the distance clang of fighting grated at his nerves, along with the waiting. He couldn’t wait around here and risk anyone else dying.

  When he looked back, Carcan was finishing her latest spell, healing one of the city guards, and Zolma was kneeling once again beside Koz’ru, whispering something under her breath.

  The others didn’t disturb her.

  Brett frowned as he watched Carcan finish her healing spells, shaking his head as she went to approach them. None of them had got seriously hurt. His fingers still flickered faintly with heat, the lingering energy of his last firebolt itching to be released again. “Where the hell are Caistina and Ronald in all this?” he asked, voice sharp with frustration. “If they were here, we’d be finished with this fight already.”

  Perberos, who was wiping his bowstring with a scrap of cloth, gave a quiet grunt of agreement at first. “Aye, their blades and spells would’ve made short work of this mess,” he muttered. Then he glanced at Brett, his expression settling into something steadier. “But that’s not the point of this.”

  Brett blinked, frowning deeper. “Not the point? We’re losing people.” He motioned toward Koz’ru’s body, still being quietly tended to by Zolma.

  Perberos sighed through his nose and rested his bow against his knee. “Aye, and that’s the bloody price of getting stronger. If Caistina and Ronald came charging in every time, us lower-ranked adventurers would never learn to stand on their own. They’d always be waiting for someone stronger to save them. You can’t build a guild or a defence line like that.”

  Brett looked away, jaw tightening.

  “They need to fight,” Perberos went on. “They need to bleed a little, struggle, push past it. That’s how we level, how they sharpen up before worse things crawl out of that dungeon. Caistina and Ronald are holding back for a reason, they’re giving us a chance to become the kind of people who can dive into that dungeon themselves one day.”

  Josh, listening quietly, finally nodded. “So this isn’t just about surviving tonight,” he said, voice low. “It’s about making sure we have people who can survive what’s coming after.”

  Perberos gave him a grim smile. “Exactly. If stronger monsters start pouring out of that hole, we’ll need more than a handful of veterans. We’ll need everyone here to be worth their salt.”

  Brett sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “I get it,” he muttered. “Still doesn’t make it any easier watching people die.”

  Perberos nodded slowly. “No. It doesn’t.”

  After several more moments, Josh’s feet started to shift under him, impatience getting to him. He didn’t lack empathy in this situation, but the sound of battle was getting to him, and he needed to make sure no one else was hurt.

  The noise of fighting had dulled to a distant storm, the clashing steel and monster roars echoing from deeper within the camp. Around Josh, the survivors began to gather, three battered groups drawn together by necessity more than anything else.

  The ground was slick with blood and ash, and the stench of smoke clung to everything. Zolma still knelt beside Koz’ru’s body, her shoulders shaking silently. No one had the heart to pull her away.

  The rest of her party stood nearby, what was left of them. Cuts bandaged hastily, armour hanging loose, eyes hollow with exhaustion. They looked less like adventurers now and more like survivors of a storm that hadn’t quite passed.

  Josh took a slow breath, trying to steady himself. Every muscle in his body ached, but he couldn’t show it. Not now.

  Bhel was already checking the fallen weapons, his face grim. Perberos hovered close, scanning the perimeter with a hunter’s eye. Brett was pacing, restless energy radiating off him.

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  Josh turned toward the guards from the second group, both men pale and bruised, but still standing, their spears steady in their hands. “We need to move,” he said quietly, voice carrying just enough for the gathered to hear. “There are still others out there. The fighting hasn’t stopped.”

  The guards exchanged a weary glance, then nodded. One of them stepped forward. “The rest of that group won’t last if they push on,” he said, gesturing toward Zolma and the others. “They’re in no state to fight.”

  Josh followed his gaze. The third party’s remaining fighters; Vokal’s eyes were distant and he flinched at every loud bang, the two guards weren’t in a much better state, ones spear was snapped cleanly in half, the others armour was ragged.

  “Then we’ll swap out some gear with them,” said the second guard, straightening his back despite the pain written across his face. “We’ll go with you. Let them stay here, tend to their wounds and the dead.”

  Zolma finally lifted her head from the side, her tear-streaked face pale in the firelight. “I… I can’t go,” she said, her voice breaking. “Not after…” Her eyes flicked toward Koz’ru’s body again. “Please… just bring the others back.”

  Josh knelt briefly beside her and placed a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll do what we can,” he said softly. “Keep your people safe. Patch up anyone you can. We’ll send word when it’s over.”

  She nodded faintly, staring at the dirt, her hands clenched in her lap.

  The two guards moved towards their compatriots, quickly checking in with them, and swapping out gear where possible, one handing over a broken shield and taking the others semi intact one. Josh’s group checked their weapons and tightening their grips on what remained of their gear. Despite the exhaustion etched into their faces, there was resolve there, the quiet kind born of duty.

  Bhel gave a short nod of approval. “Good men,” he muttered. “Let’s make it count.”

  Perberos glanced toward the sounds of battle still echoing in the distance, his bow already in hand. “Then we move fast,” he said. “If we wait, the others won’t have anything left to save.”

  Josh looked around at them all, bruised, bloodied, but unbroken. He raised his sword, pointing toward the chaos ahead. “Alright,” he said, his voice low but steady. “Let’s finish this.”

  The survivors tightened formation, stepping over the fallen as they pushed forward once more, leaving behind the wounded, the grieving, and the dead.

  They set off through the wreckage of the camp, moving at a steady, deliberate pace. The air was thick with smoke and the acrid bite of burnt flesh. Tents had been trampled into the dirt, their canvas scorched and torn. Crude goblin banners hung shredded from broken poles, fluttering weakly in the heat rising from smouldering fires.

  Every few steps, a shape would lurch from the haze, a goblin too stupid or too crazed to realise its horde was gone. Each time, the response was swift and brutal.

  One darted from behind a burned cart, shrieking as it swung a jagged blade. Josh’s shield caught the blow with a dull thud, and his sword came down in a clean arc, splitting the creature from shoulder to ribs. Bhel was right behind him, smashing another into the dirt with a roar and finishing it with a savage chop.

  Brett’s firebolt hissed through the haze and caught a third goblin full in the chest. The small explosion sent it tumbling backwards into the blackened remains of a tent. Perberos barely slowed his pace as he drew and loosed another arrow, pinning a fleeing goblin through the back of its neck.

  The guards moved with grim focus, spears thrusting forward to dispatch anything that came too close. Carcan kept to the rear, eyes flicking between her comrades, ready to heal if needed but thankfully, the skirmishes were brief.

  As they pushed deeper into the camp, the sounds of battle grew louder again, the distinct clash of steel and the harsh, guttural roars of goblins rallying around something larger. The glow of fire ahead painted the smoke orange and gold.

  Josh’s grip tightened on his sword. “Almost there,” he muttered.

  Then they broke through the last line of charred tents and relief washed through him like a tide.

  The next group was still standing. Their formation was ragged, weapons slick with blood, but they were alive. Josh recognised several faces from the guild, young adventurers, all of them breathing hard, but still moving with purpose. A small mountain of goblins lay scattered around them, creating a natural barrier to aid in their defence.

  Josh lowered his sword slightly and exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction. “Thank the gods,” he said under his breath. “They’re all still up.”

  Bhel gave a grunt of agreement, wiping his axe on a fallen goblin’s tunic. “Aye. Looks like they held their own.”

  Perberos nodded, scanning the treeline beyond the camp. “They won’t have to much longer,” he said. “We’ve got their backs now.”

  The clash came fast and brutal.

  Josh didn’t waste time calling out orders. He just pointed his sword toward the knot of monsters still harrying the other group — twenty goblins and a single hulking orc, all focused on trying to break through the battered defenders, and charged.

  “Let’s end this!” he roared.

  His boots pounded over cracked earth as his party surged beside him. Brett’s first firebolt streaked past, slamming into a goblin’s chest and bursting it apart in a flash of orange flame. The smell of burnt flesh filled the air as Josh’s shield crashed into the flank of another, sending it spinning to the dirt.

  The goblins barely had time to realise what was happening before the impact came. Josh and Bhel hit them like a falling wall. Shields, axes, and blades cut deep. The creatures shrieked and scattered, but they were trapped. pressed between Josh’s advancing line and the defenders they’d been attacking only moments earlier.

  “Push them!” Josh shouted, his voice half-lost in the din. Bhel answered with a wordless roar, bringing both axes down into a goblin’s shoulders, splitting the body nearly in half. Carcan threw up a glowing barrier to block an arrow from striking Brett, who responded by sending another gout of flame into the mass of enemies. The explosion set several goblins alight, their screams rising above the chaos.

  Next to them the surviving guards and adventurers joined the push. One drove his spear clean through a goblin’s gut, another stabbed upward under a creature’s chin. The trapped monsters flailed wildly, cutting at anything they could reach, but the circle around them tightened with every heartbeat.

  Then the orc came charging through the middle, a mountain of muscle and rage, swinging a cleaver streaked with blood. It roared, scattering its smaller kin, and made straight for Josh.

  Josh braced. The first blow hit his shield with bone-shaking force, driving him back a step, but he dug in his heels and shoved forward, catching the orc across the jaw with the rim of his shield. Bhel was already there, hacking low and catching the beast’s knee. The orc staggered, roaring in pain.

  “Now!” Brett shouted, and a firebolt smashed into the creature’s side, flames licking up its arm. It swung again, half-blind and enraged, but Perberos’ arrow flashed through the haze and buried itself deep in its throat.

  The orc gurgled, dropping to one knee and Josh stepped in, driving his sword up beneath its ribs. The blade punched through, the monster’s breath catching as its eyes rolled back. It toppled forward, shaking the ground.

  The last few goblins, seeing their champion fall, broke and ran but they didn’t get far. Arrows and spells cut them down before they could reach the trees.

  Silence settled over the immediate area again, broken only by the crackle of fire and the heavy sound of breathing.

  Josh leaned on his shield for a moment, sweat and soot streaking his face. “That’s it,” he said quietly. “That’s all of them.”

  Brett was already scanning the treeline, firelight reflecting in his eyes. “If not,” he muttered, “we’ll be ready.”

  Josh straightened, tightening his grip on his sword. Around them, the surviving adventurers began to gather bruised, bloodied, but alive.