The goblins attacked again.

  They did not hesitate.

  They did not slow.

  They did not care.

  They ran straight over the smoldering remains of their own kind, feet pounding ash and half-burned bones into the mud, screeching as they climbed over one another. Bodies stacked upon bodies, forming a writhing, living ladder that pressed relentlessly against the ten-meter wall.

  They could no longer be knocked down.

  At the top of the wall stood David.

  His hands trembled—not from weakness, but from exhaustion that had soaked deep into his bones. He had already been fighting for nearly two hours, and he knew he had at least two more before he would be rotated out—if the line held that long.

  Two more hours of hell.

  David tightened his grip on his short sword and shield. Sweat soaked the leather straps, making them slick in his palms. His breathing came in ragged bursts as he stared down at the tide of green bodies surging upward.

  I shouldn’t be here, he thought bitterly.

  Before all of this, he had been nothing more than a courthouse security guard in a quiet town—someone whose biggest concern had been bored teenagers loitering near the entrance or the occasional drunk yelling about unfair fines.

  Because of that job, he had been drafted.

  Because of that draft, he was here.

  Waiting for goblins to climb over a wall and try to tear him apart.

  If anyone had asked him back then what he wanted, he would have said guarding empty hallways in the rear, protecting places goblins would never reach. He would have called this entire operation insanity.

  Now, all he could do was brace himself.

  The first goblin vaulted over the wall.

  David reacted on instinct. His sword swung in a wide arc, cutting through flesh and bone with a wet, sickening sound. The goblin was nearly cleaved in half before its body toppled backward, crashing down into the mass below and dragging several others with it.

  They wouldn’t survive the fall.

  That was why the defenders didn’t throw debris or supplies down anymore.

  Goblins themselves were the most efficient projectiles.

  They denied the enemy footholds and thinned their numbers without adding to the ramp of corpses forming beneath the wall. It took thousands of bodies to climb ten meters—but goblins had numbers to waste.

  They always did.

  David kept swinging.

  Left. Right. Block. Bash. Stab.

  Time blurred into pain. Around him, soldiers screamed—some dragged screaming over the edge, others crushed beneath sheer numbers. Armed goblins slipped blades through gaps in armor, daggers finding necks that chainmail had once protected against teeth and claws.

  How long has it been? David wondered hazily.

  His arms burned. His vision narrowed. He needed rest—desperately—but there was no relief coming.

  Is it really too much to ask to be switched out? he thought bitterly.

  Then something punched through his chest.

  The impact was dull, shocking. For a moment, he didn’t understand what had happened. Then warmth spread rapidly through his body, and he dropped to his knees.

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  He tried to breathe.

  He couldn’t.

  Blood bubbled from his mouth as he gagged, vision swimming. An armed goblin—one he never saw—had found him in the chaos.

  So this is it, David thought distantly.

  As darkness crept in, he felt hands grab him, dragging him backward. His last conscious relief was knowing it was his comrades pulling him away—not goblins.

  At least they won’t eat me, he thought weakly.

  David died with a small, peaceful smile on his face.

  All across the camp and along humanity’s front lines, similar stories unfolded—countless deaths born from an offensive that failed in ways no one had anticipated.

  The Camp After Five Days

  When the sun set on the fifth day of the siege, Legion 23’s camp no longer resembled anything human.

  Only ten thousand soldiers remained.

  The towering outer walls were gone—burned, trampled, or crushed beneath sheer mass. Traps that once seemed ingenious had failed within minutes, rendered useless by mountains of corpses that softened every fall and filled every pit.

  The collapsible walkways had been deadly—for thirty minutes.

  After that, goblin bodies piled so high that the rest fell safely.

  The second defensive line had collapsed on the third day. Exhaustion forced Commander Eloi to make a desperate choice: he ended arrow rationing entirely.

  Every remaining arrow was fired.

  A storm of death fell upon the goblins, killing nearly half a million in less than an hour. It was horribly inefficient—but it bought something far more precious.

  Time.

  Rest.

  For thirty minutes, the soldiers sat and breathed.

  Then the arrows ran out.

  The walls fell shortly after.

  What followed was no longer a siege—it was a massacre.

  A field battle without tactics. Without formations. Without mercy.

  Height differences, endless numbers, and utter disregard for life crushed Legion 23. Even as goblins died by the thousands, the exchange rate was unforgiving.

  By the end of the fourth day, only three hundred thousand remained.

  By the fifth, they were driven back into the central fortress—the last line of defense.

  The Final Night

  Arin stood atop the fortress wall, his face hollow and resigned.

  His family was gone.

  All of them.

  They had killed too many evolved goblins—stood out too much. When breaches happened, the goblins targeted them first. There had been nothing Arin could do.

  He survived only because he had been stationed near Commander Eloi and the personal guard. Close enough to be protected. Close enough to focus on eliminating evolved goblins before they could organize attacks.

  An arrow flew from his bow, piercing the skull of an evolved goblin, barking orders to axe-bearers below.

  Another threat ended.

  If I die tonight, Arin thought, nocking another arrow, I’ll take as many with me as I can.

  Flames burned behind his eyes.

  Around him, soldiers fought on with weapons worn blunt from endless killing. No one spoke of survival anymore—only of defiance.

  As the sun disappeared completely, the final night of Legion 23 began.

  And the fortress braced itself for the end.