The group pressed on, the morning sun climbing over the trees as the guild’s raid party wound along the packed dirt road. Hooves thudded against the earth, leather creaked, and the steady murmur of conversation rolled through the group. Josh walked near the middle beside Brett, while Perberos and Ronald led at the front, keeping a keen eye on the forested slopes ahead.

  When they reached the jagged outcrop known as Splitfang Stone, the party turned off the road and began to follow a faint hunter’s trail that wound through the underbrush. The air grew stiller, the forest canopy denser.

  Josh noticed the first sign not long after, broken branches, crude footprints, and the faint stink of smoke drifting on the wind. He exchanged a glance with Brett.

  “Looks like they’ve been out this way,” Josh muttered.

  Ronald crouched near a patch of disturbed soil, tracing a finger over a small, clawed footprint. “Aye. Goblins. Fresh ones too. They might have followed you guys out yesterday.” He rose, tightening the strap on his quiver. “We’re pushing into their active range now. Keep sharp.”

  The line of adventurers shifted uneasily, the realization settling over them. The goblins weren’t just lurking near the dungeon anymore, they were spreading, testing boundaries.

  Josh glanced around the darkening trees and whispered to Brett, “Guess Noe really wouldn’t have lasted out here.”

  Brett smirked faintly. “Spoiled brat probably cried when he saw a large squirrel.”

  Their laughter was quiet, nervous even, but it lightened the tension for a heartbeat before the forest fell silent again, leaving only the crunch of boots and the watchful eyes of the wild.

  The deeper they ventured from Splitfang Stone, the more restless the forest became. The chatter faded, replaced by the occasional twang of a bowstring or the hiss of steel as something lunged from the undergrowth.

  The first few attacks were almost routine, a handful of goblins darting out from the brush, or an arrow fired from within the darkness. The adventurers handled them quickly, shields clashing and spells flaring. Each time, the group paused only long enough to confirm there were no injuries before moving on.

  But the assaults didn’t stop. Every few hundred paces, another skirmish. It wasn’t the strength of the enemies that wore on them, it was the relentlessness. The sense that the forest itself was testing their resolve.

  “Nothing higher than level three,” Perberos muttered after cutting down another goblin. His axe dripped green blood. “But there’s too many of them.”

  Ronald nodded grimly. “Could be they’re scouting us. Seeing how strong we are before sending something bigger.”

  The group pressed on warily, but exhaustion started to creep in. Then, as they crossed a small ravine, a sudden shriek echoed through the trees. One of the pack beasts, a massive, furred creature loaded with tents, ropes, and supplies, reared up, an arrow jutting from its neck.

  “Down!” someone shouted.

  Chaos erupted. The beast thrashed violently, throwing its handler aside and crushing two packs under its hooves before collapsing with a heavy thud. Supplies scattered across the mud, food and tools tumbling into the ravine below.

  “Secure the line!” Ronald barked, moving to cover the rear as Perberos and another fighter scrambled to put down the creature’s suffering. The brief moment of calm that followed was heavy, marked by panting breaths and the distant rustle of unseen movement in the woods.

  Josh stared at the fallen beast, its lifeless eyes glassy and unblinking. “That wasn’t a stray shot,” he said quietly. “They aimed for it.”

  Ronald grimaced, scanning the trees. “Aye. Which means that some of them aren’t as dumb as normal gobs.”

  The words sent a ripple of unease through the group. The air felt thicker now, the forest closing in around them as if the shadows themselves were watching.

  After several gruelling hours of trudging through thick undergrowth and fending off small packs of goblins, the raid group finally broke through the last stretch of forest. The air grew colder, the ground underfoot shifting from grass and dirt to rough, uneven stone. Ahead, the trees thinned to reveal a clearing carved into the hillside, dark, gaping, and unmistakably unnatural. The dungeon.

  The group slowed as they approached the outskirts. Tension hung heavy in the air. The smell of damp earth and faint rot drifted from the cave mouth, where a faint red glow pulsed like a heartbeat deep within.

  Perberos signalled for everyone to halt and led Ronald, Caistina, and several of the other party leaders forward. The rest of the adventurers waited behind, quietly checking weapons and adjusting armour, the nervous murmur of low conversation breaking the uneasy silence.

  “This is where we’ll attack,” Ronald said, eyes scanning the treeline and the rocky terrain. “If they pour out of there, and we need to drop back, we hold the line here. If things go south, we fall back to the ridge.”

  Perberos nodded, crouching to trace a rough map in the dirt. “We’ll want archers on the slope, melee holding the front. I’ll take the right flank with my team.”

  Caistina folded her arms, her expression thoughtful. “There’s a lot of mana flow coming from that cave. It’s unstable. The monsters inside might be stronger than usual.”

  Ronald gave a low grunt. “That’s fine. We’re not diving in today. The goal is to cull the outer ranks, give everyone some proper field experience. We’ll set a perimeter, hold the line, and let the newer ones get their hands dirty.”

  Perberos raised an eyebrow. “You’re not joining the fight?”

  “Not unless I have to,” Ronald said, his tone even. “They won’t learn anything if I do all the work. These rookies need blood on their blades and scars on their arms. The faster they level, the safer they’ll be.”

  Caistina smirked faintly. “So we’re to stand back and watch, then?”

  Ronald gave a small shrug. “Only until it gets interesting.”

  Perberos chuckled, straightening up. “Fair enough. Then let’s get everyone ready.”

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  As the leaders returned to their parties, the clearing came alive with motion. Weapons were checked, spells were prepared, and the air filled with the metallic scrape of armor. The first real test of their strength was about to begin.

  Ronald and Perberos lingered at the edge of the ridge, crouched low behind a fallen tree that overlooked the clearing below. The dungeon’s mouth pulsed faintly, its dark entrance veiled by hanging roots and jagged stone. Around it sprawled a crude camp of makeshift tents, rough palisades of splintered logs, and the sickly orange flicker of goblin fires.

  Perberos narrowed his eyes, studying the movement below. “It’s worse than yesterday,” he muttered. “A lot worse.”

  Ronald followed his gaze. “You’re not wrong.”

  There were dozens of goblins now, more than they had ever seen in one place. Small groups scurried between fires, arguing and fighting over scraps of food. A handful of orcs stood amongst them, towering over the smaller creatures, barking orders and swatting at the goblins with crude weapons. The scene had the frantic energy of a hive on the verge of bursting.

  Perberos adjusted the strap on his dagger, his voice grim. “That’s at least double what we expected. Look there—” he pointed to a group of goblins forming ranks near the treeline, armed with stolen blades and shields of bark and bone. “That lot’s heading east. Looks like a proper war party.”

  Ronald’s jaw tightened. “Which means they’re spreading.”

  He watched as another orc emerged from the cave, dragging a squirming goblin by the neck before tossing it toward a fire pit. The goblin scrambled to its feet and ran off into the crowd. Ronald exhaled through his nose, frowning. “They’re multiplying faster than we can cull them. Even just standing here, the damn number’s gone up.”

  “Dungeon’s feeding them,” Perberos said. “The mana’s overflowing, and it’s spawning new ones faster than they can die. If it keeps up like this, they’ll spill out into the valley within days.”

  Ronald’s eyes stayed fixed on the cave mouth. “Then we’re running out of time.”

  Perberos gave a low, humourless laugh. “Guess we’d better hope those carpenters of yours work fast. We’ll need walls before nightfall.”

  Ronald nodded. “And more blades before long.”

  The two rangers stayed there a moment longer, the distant screeches and guttural laughter of goblins echoing faintly through the trees. The dungeon pulsed again, a wave of reddish light washing briefly across the clearing. Ronald felt the hair on his arms prickle.

  “It’s definitely angry,” he said quietly. “If we can’t slow it down soon… we’ll be staring at a full dungeon break.”

  Perberos’ expression hardened. “Then we’d better make damn sure it never gets that far.”

  Once everyone regrouped, the clearing buzzed with nervous energy. Over forty people stood gathered in a loose circle, most of them fighters, weapons in hand, faces lit by the pale morning light that filtered through the canopy. The smell of leather, oil, and damp earth hung in the air.

  Perberos unrolled his map on a flat rock, weighing down the corners with stones while Ronald and Caistina stood nearby. The other party leaders clustered around, and their members formed smaller groups just beyond them, some checking their blades, others murmuring quiet prayers or staring out toward the dark treeline where the dungeon lay hidden.

  “All right,” Ronald began, his gravelly voice carrying easily over the murmurs. “We’re not marching in as one big lump. Too easy to get surrounded that way, or for them to get away. We’ll spread out, hit the camp from different angles, and drive the creatures back toward the cave mouth.”

  A human fighter named Taron frowned. “And what about if they all charge in one direction? We’ll be on our own.”

  Caistina folded her arms, her gaze calm but sharp. “Not if you all hit them at the right time and don’t push too hard. The goal isn’t to storm the dungeon, it’s to cull the outer spawn and push in until we cut out a small enough space for the carpenters to set up defences.”

  Another adventurer, a young rogue from Brett and Josh’s class, raised his hand uncertainly. “So… small skirmish groups? Circling the camp?”

  “Something like that,” Perberos said, tracing his finger across the map. “We’ve got four main approach routes here, north ridge, south slope, and these two trails through the undergrowth. Each leads to a flank. If we strike from all sides, we force the goblins to scatter instead of rushing one direction.”

  Ronald nodded. “We’ll take advantage of confusion. Noise, speed, and coordination. Don’t break formation unless your leader says so.”

  “What about you and Caistina?” Brett asked from near the edge of the group.

  Ronald gave a faint grin. “We’ll be watching from the ridge. I’ll keep an eye on movement and signal if the camp gets too thick. Caistina’s got enough firepower to turn a tide if needed.”

  The elf inclined her head slightly. “But don’t rely on me to save you. This is your fight to earn you some levels and experience, as well as protecting the town. Think of it as a live test of everything you’ve learned.”

  A low murmur ran through the gathered adventurers. Some looked anxious, others determined. Josh glanced around at the faces, people who, like him, had been green recruits only weeks ago. Now they were heading into what might be a real battle.

  Ronald’s tone grew firmer. “Once the lines are drawn, you go in on my mark. Focus on the smaller creatures, and watch for orcs, they’ll take coordination to bring down. Remember, every kill gives experience. Stay sharp, stay alive, and work together.”

  He looked to Perberos, who gave a single nod.

  “Right then,” Ronald said. “Split into your groups. The sooner we move, the better chance we’ve got before more of those damned things crawl out.”

  The adventurers began to disperse, gathering in their assigned teams. The sound of blades being unsheathed and armour tightened filled the air as tension turned into readiness. From the ridge above, early morning tight blanketed the treetops, glinting off metal and setting the scene for the coming fight.

  Josh and his party volunteered for the right flank, a quieter route that wound through thicker undergrowth and uneven terrain. It meant more isolation and more risk but Josh preferred the idea of having their own ground to hold instead of relying on others. Beside them, the other highest-ranked group, a band of level six adventurers new to Ashenfall, were assigned the left flank. Their leader, a broad-shouldered woman with a massive great axe strapped across her back, gave Josh a curt nod across the clearing before turning to her team.

  The remaining three parties would form the centre force, pushing straight toward the heart of the goblin camp. Two of those groups were made up of familiar faces from training, their old classmates, still bearing the mix of excitement and unease that came with real battle. Each had been reinforced by guards from the town, their matching tabards and polished shields a stark contrast to the ragtag assortment of the adventurers beside them.

  Josh glanced at the line of soldiers who were more disciplined, their silent, eyes forward. He couldn’t help but admire their composure. The adventurers, in comparison, were restless, whispering, double-checking gear, hands twitching near their weapons.

  Brett adjusted his staff, looking to Josh with a wry grin. “Tip of the spear?”

  “Feels that way,” Josh replied. He looked toward Ronald, who was watching the organisation unfold with arms crossed, Caistina beside him murmuring something about sightlines and fallback positions. “Right flank gives us more cover, though. We’ll be able to surprise them if we move quick.”

  Bheldur grunted in agreement. “And more trees to hide behind if it goes badly.”

  “Always the optimist,” Carcan muttered, earning a quiet laugh from her brother.

  The air carried the faint rustle of branches and distant bird calls, the deceptive calm before the chaos. The goblin camp wasn’t visible yet, but everyone could feel it close, the acrid smell of smoke, the distant shrieks, the unsettling energy that clung to places steeped in dark mana.

  Josh tightened the strap of Garrick’s old helmet and looked at his team. “Right then. Let’s make sure we don’t get cut off from the others. Keep your eyes open, and if things get ugly, we fall back toward the centre.”

  Perberos nodded sharply, adjusting his bowstring. “Aye. Let’s give them something to remember.”

  Ronald’s voice rose over the growing murmur of movement. “Positions! Once you’re in place, wait for the signal, don’t engage until you hear Caistina’s flare.”

  Josh turned toward the right trail, heart pounding as he led the way into the thick brush. The light was dim beneath the canopy, and the forest seemed to hold its breath as they passed. For the first time that morning, he truly felt the weight of what they were walking into, not just a hunt, but a defence of the land they’d begun to call home.

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