The forest grew quieter the farther they walked. The cheerful birdsong that had filled the morning air was gone, and the hum of insects faded into uneasy silence. Only the faint whisper of wind through the canopy remained, brushing against the branches like the slow breath of something unseen and waiting.

  Josh crouched low as Perberos raised a hand for them to halt. The soil beneath their boots was soft and dark, churned by dozens of small clawed feet. The prints overlapped and tangled together, forming a chaotic web that spoke of restless movement.

  “Goblins,” Bheldur muttered, his voice low and rough. He wrinkled his nose as if the word itself carried a stench. “And plenty of them.”

  Perberos studied the ground before nodding grimly. “They’ve been active. Look there.”

  He pointed to a nearby tree where a crude totem hung from a fraying cord. Bones, feathers, and scraps of hide were tied together in a rough bundle, swaying in the breeze. The faint clack of bone on bone echoed through the still air, a rhythm that felt almost deliberate.

  “Charming,” Brett murmured, his mouth twisting in distaste.

  Carcan crouched beside one of the deeper impressions, sweeping aside a layer of damp leaves with careful fingers. “Fresh,” she said quietly. “Less than a day old?”

  Perberos gave her a single nod.

  Josh’s grip tightened around his sword hilt, the leather warm beneath his palm. “Then we’re close.”

  They pressed on, every step revealing more signs of the creatures’ presence. The undergrowth grew thicker and fouler, heavy with the stink of blood and rot. Broken branches littered the ground, and carcasses of small animals hung from the trees as if left for some twisted ritual. Rough traps dotted the paths: pits hidden beneath mats of leaves, snares made of sinew stretched between roots, and sharpened stakes buried in the dirt.

  Brett pointed toward one such trap and its unfortunate victim, a mangled goblin sprawled face-first in the mud. “You’d think they’d avoid catching themselves in their own traps.”

  Bheldur grunted, his tone caught somewhere between amusement and disgust. “Goblin intelligence rarely survives first contact with twine.”

  Perberos raised a hand, halting the group as they reached the crest of a small hill. He moved into a crouch, silent and deliberate, and motioned for the others to follow his gaze.

  Josh knelt beside him and felt his breath catch.

  Below, nestled in the shallow hollow between the hills, sprawled a chaotic sprawl of movement and shadow. Torches burned with a sickly green flame, their uneven light flickering across a rough encampment of tents and crude shelters made from hides and splintered wood. The glow danced across dozens of goblins scurrying through the clearing, their hunched figures shifting restlessly. Some dragged half-eaten carcasses across the mud, others crouched over fires or sharpened rusted blades against stones slick with grime.

  Among them moved orcs. Larger, slower, more deliberate. Their grey-green skin glistened with sweat beneath patchwork iron armour, their bodies marked by scars that told of countless brutal fights. Each one carried itself with a predator’s confidence, towering over the smaller goblins like wolves among rats.

  “They’ve made a base,” Josh whispered. The words barely left his lips, swallowed by the weight of the scene below.

  The air was thick with the scent of sweat, iron, and decay. The ground below was little more than a mire of trampled mud and filth, churned by the constant movement of dozens of feet. Makeshift barricades of sharpened stakes surrounded the camp, jagged and uneven. Towering bone totems stood at intervals along the perimeter, each one adorned with skulls and strips of dried flesh that fluttered weakly in the torchlight. Some of the skulls were animal, but more than a few bore the shape of human jaws and teeth.

  At the far end of the clearing, half hidden beneath a low rise of rock and earth, a cave mouth yawned open. A faint purple light pulsed from deep within, spreading across the stones like veins of corruption. The glow throbbed slowly, steady as a heartbeat.

  Brett leaned forward, his voice barely audible. “Is that…?”

  Carcan’s eyes narrowed as she studied the cave. “A portal,” she said at last, her tone steady but low. “That’s the dungeon entrance.”

  They watched in silence as two goblins stumbled from the pulsing violet haze of the portal, shrieking and tumbling into the dirt. Their bodies hit the ground with wet thuds before they scrambled upright, hissing and yapping as they scurried toward a nearby group. The waiting goblins greeted them with jeers, shoves, and mocking laughter, the noise echoing faintly up the hillside.

  Bheldur’s brow furrowed as he took in the scene. “The dungeon’s mana must be dense for it to spit out this many. I’ve never heard of one establishing itself above ground, let alone producing multiple monsters at once. Usually they spit one out every so often, and they flee into the surrounding area.” His tone carried unease, the kind that came from experience rather than fear.

  Josh’s eyes tracked the movements below, lingering on the looming orcs that prowled between the smaller creatures. “How many do you think there are?”

  Perberos crouched lower, eyes narrowing. He studied the camp in silence, his gaze sharp and calculating. “Dozens of goblins,” he said finally. “Thirty, maybe forty. Four orcs that I can see, and one of them’s big. Stronger than the rest.”

  He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “I can see their levels. The goblins are mostly between one and five. The orcs are higher. One’s level seven. And that one there…” He gestured subtly toward a hunched figure near the cave entrance, its gnarled staff crowned with a cluster of yellowed bones. “That’s a goblin shaman. Level six.”

  Carcan frowned, her expression tight. “We’ve never seen one of them before.”

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  “That’s because they don’t usually leave their shitholes,” Bheldur murmured. “Whatever’s happening here, it’s wrong. Dungeons aren’t supposed to grow like this.”

  Brett shifted beside Josh, his hand brushing the grass. “We can’t take all of them,” he said quietly. “Not even close.”

  Josh nodded grimly. “No chance. Even if we fought smart, we’d be dead before we reached the orcs.”

  “This is going to take a raid group,” Bheldur said, his voice flat with certainty. “Several parties, at least. Maybe even some veterans among them. You guys said you met a troll before right? If it’s spit one of them out, there’s going to be more inside.”

  Perberos exhaled slowly through his nose, eyes still fixed on the camp. “Then we bring this back to the guild. They’ll want to know what’s forming out here.”

  Carcan nodded, already shifting into thought. “We’ll need landmarks. Something that can guide us back here once we report it.”

  Brett turned to her, one eyebrow raised. “Us?”

  Carcan straightened a little, meeting his look with quiet resolve. “Yes. We found it. This is our discovery. And when the guild confirms it, we’ll be the ones to claim the credit and the rewards that come with it. We’ll want to be here to get those benefits. And the levels from the impending fight.”

  Josh gave a small smile at her determination, but the unease in his stomach remained. Below them, the purple light pulsed again, and another goblin fell screaming from the portal.

  They scanned the surrounding forest carefully, taking note of landmarks that could guide them back. Beyond the camp’s edge, two crooked trees stood close together, their trunks twisted around each other like coiled serpents, the pale bark scarred and weathered.

  “Those,” Brett said, nodding toward the pair. “Hard to miss.”

  Perberos crouched lower, his gaze sweeping the ridge to the east. “And that ridge,” he said. “The stones there are almost white. I remember seeing them from the road.”

  “There’s also that dead oak,” Bheldur rumbled, pointing to a skeletal silhouette leaning over the clearing like a broken finger. “Lightning must have struck it a few seasons back. That one should stand out too.”

  Josh nodded, taking in the details and tucking them into memory. “Good. Then we’ve got what we need. Let’s head back before something spots us.”

  They moved carefully, crouching low as they crept through the dense underbrush. Perberos led the way, silent and precise, his eyes constantly scanning for movement. The forest around them seemed to exhale in quiet relief as the clearing and its horrors receded behind them. For a while, none of them spoke, the weight of what they had seen settling over their shoulders like a cold cloak. Every snapped twig or rustling leaf set their nerves on edge.

  Then movement flickered along the edge of the path. A pair of goblins, likely scouts, skittered from the underbrush. Brett raised his hand and whispered a command. Arrows flew and a firebolt hissed through the air. The creatures shrieked, falling before they had a chance to react.

  Josh’s muscles tensed, eyes flicking over the trees as if expecting more, while Bheldur muttered under his breath. “Little pests. Not even worth the mud they leave behind.” Then he walked over to the dissipating corpses, collecting the ears.

  The forest returned to uneasy silence, but the group’s nerves remained taut. Each step forward reminded them of the camp below, the portal, and the monsters that waited. Every shadow could conceal danger. Every rustle could signal another threat.

  Even as the tension lingered, a quiet understanding passed among them. They had survived this far together, and that trust was now as vital as any weapon in their hands.

  Over the next few hours, the party made their way back to the road, moving carefully through the thick forest. Groups of goblins crossed their path from time to time, skittering between the trees and underbrush. None of the encounters lasted long, but each left the party on edge, muscles tight and senses sharpened.

  During one brief skirmish, a goblin lunged too close, teeth bared and claws slashing. Josh reacted instinctively, slamming his shield into the creature with a thunderous impact. The goblin flew backward, a sharp crack of bone echoing through the clearing.

  A faint shimmer flickered across Josh’s vision:

  [Skill Advanced: Shield Bash → Adept]

  He allowed himself a small, triumphant smile. “About time,” he said, glancing at the others and telling them about his advancement.

  Bheldur chuckled, giving him a nod of approval. “You’ve earned it. You hit that thing like a runaway wagon.”

  The group pressed on, moving steadily through the undergrowth. Eventually, familiar landmarks appeared. The Splitfang Stone rose from the earth ahead, jagged and weathered, like the jawbone of some ancient, forgotten beast.

  Josh stopped beside it, brushing the damp mud from his boots. “Home’s that way,” he said, nodding toward the western path that led back to Ashenfall.

  Perberos lingered for a moment, scanning the darkening forest behind them. “Let’s hope it stays quiet long enough for us to warn the guild,” he murmured, his voice tight with concern.

  “Agreed,” Carcan replied softly, her eyes still tracing the shadowed treeline. “No point risking another fight until we report this.”

  They fell into step together, the rhythm of their march steady and determined. The sun dipped lower, spilling gold and amber across the leaves and casting long, dancing shadows on the path ahead. Behind them, the forest seemed to exhale, empty once more. Deep within the cave, far from their sight, the faint purple pulse of the portal continued to thrum, patient, insistent, and hungry.

  Retracing their steps along the road felt almost surreal. The forest they’d once entered so cautiously now seemed gentler, the shadows thinner, the air easier to breathe. The canopy overhead broke in places to let sunlight spill through, painting the mossy ground in warm patches of gold. The heavy tension that had gripped them for most of the day began to ease, replaced by a quiet, wary calm.

  They passed familiar landmarks one by one: the crooked birch that leaned across the path, its bark white and peeling; the cluster of stones shaped like a sleeping wolf; and the shallow stream where they’d stopped that morning to refill their waterskins. This part of the forest felt calmer, safer. There were no goblin tracks nearby, no broken branches or rusted traps hidden beneath the ferns. The corruption hadn’t yet reached this far.

  “Feels different here,” Brett said, glancing around. “Lighter.”

  Carcan nodded. “Almost peaceful. It’s strange how quickly danger can fade once you leave its shadow.”

  Bheldur grunted in agreement but kept his hand resting near his axe all the same. “Let’s hope it stays that way.”

  Josh walked a little ahead of them, eyes scanning the treeline, every sense still tuned to danger despite the quiet. The road ahead looked ordinary again, just another forest path winding toward home but he knew what lurked beyond those hills. He could still picture the bone totems, the purple glow of the dungeon, the endless tide of goblins spilling out like rot from a wound.

  He slowed his pace, looking out over the soft roll of the landscape and the streak of sunset burning above the trees. This was their home now, Ashenfall, the fields beyond it, the people who lived there. The idea of those monsters creeping further into these lands twisted something deep inside him.

  Josh tightened his grip on his shield and made a silent vow. As long as he drew breath, he wouldn’t let the goblins infest this place. Not the forests, not the roads, not the home they were building. Whatever that dungeon was, whatever darkness had taken root there, it wouldn’t be allowed to spread.

  The road curved gently ahead, and Ashenfall’s distant rooftops glimmered faintly through the treetops. The sight filled the group with a quiet strength. They walked on, tired but united, each step carrying them closer to safety and to the warning that might save their world.

  Some say five stars opens a secret door to bonus chapters.

  Others say I just smile a lot. Either way, worth testing, right?