Chapter 20: The Scout

They were there to make sure I didn’t try anything.

I exhaled slowly, forcing my shoulders to relax, or at least enough to make it look like I wasn’t still coiled and ready to fight.

As I followed behind Talia, my gaze lingered on her back while a thousand questions churned through my mind.

Why had she defended me? What exactly had she meant by "unity"? And why had she seemed almost amused by what I’d done instead of horrified like the others?

I didn’t have the answers yet, but...

I was going to find out.

*

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to Sylas and the rest of the goblins, someone was watching.

Perched high among the trees, a lone scout remained crouched on a thick, sturdy branch, every muscle in his body held rigid as he fought to keep his breathing steady.

His heart hammered violently against his ribs, yet he barely dared to move, trusting the gentle sway of the forest canopy and the rustling leaves around him to conceal his presence.

This wasn’t what he had expected.

He had been sent to track a group of missing adventurers on what was supposed to be a routine reconnaissance mission.

They were long overdue, and in this profession, hunters who failed to return usually meant only one thing: something had gone horribly, horribly wrong.

Following the last known route they had taken, he moved cautiously through the forest, keeping low as he searched for broken branches, bloodstains, or any sign of a struggle.

Then the silence was shattered by a chorus of deep, guttural snarls.

Every instinct screamed at him to retreat and report what he’d found, but curiosity won out.

Instead of falling back, he slipped toward the nearest massive oak and climbed it with practiced ease, ascending through the thick branches until he found the perfect vantage point.

Hidden beneath the canopy, he peered into the clearing below...

Two goblins were fighting in what had been a brutal, feral battle, the kind where there was never meant to be a loser walking away alive.

Goblins didn’t fight for sport. They fought for dominance, for survival, and from everything the scout had seen, the larger goblin should have been ripped apart before the end.

Yet that never happened.

Before either could land the killing blow, several goblins emerged from the forest, led by a female.

She didn’t charge into the fight, roar, or bare her fangs. Instead, she spoke, and just like that, the battle came to an abrupt end.

Moments later, she invited the younger goblin to join their ranks.

His breath hitched as his mind raced to make sense of what he had just seen.

The only conclusion he could reach was that the goblins were gathering, and that couldn’t possibly mean anything good.

He remained perfectly still, barely daring to breathe, waiting until the last goblin disappeared into the trees before finally making his move toward the place where the goblin had fought.

As he stepped into the clearing, his boots sank into the forest floor with a wet, sickening squelch.

He glanced down and saw blood.

His stomach lurched, a sharp wave of nausea clawing its way up his throat, but he clenched his jaw and forced it back down.

The clearing was littered with them, or rather, with what remained of them.

The adventurers he had been sent to find had been mangled and shredded beyond recognition, their flesh stripped from bone as though some monstrous predator had feasted without restraint.

Limbs lay scattered across the ground like discarded branches, while shattered skulls stared blankly toward the darkening sky. Pools of thick, congealing blood soaked into the earth beneath them, turning the forest floor into a gruesome crimson mire.

And the smell...

It hung in the air like a living thing, heavy, metallic, and sickening, forcing its way into his lungs before settling deep in his stomach.

His throat tightened as he swallowed hard, fighting the urge to retch.

And the sight of the bodies rooted him to the edge of the clearing, long before he could bring himself to venture any farther.

He had seen death before, but this... this was something else. It was brutal. Savage enough to make his stomach churn.

His mind raced as he leaned against the rough bark of a tree, forcing himself to look away from the carnage while he pieced together the events in his head.

Did the goblins do this?

The thought immediately felt wrong.

It simply didn’t add up.

The war between humans and goblins had ended years ago, and ever since then the goblins had changed.

Once feared as fierce warriors, they had lost their magic, their strength fading with it.

They had become passive, retreating deep into their own territories and avoiding humans whenever possible.

There had been peace.

Fragile and uneasy, perhaps, but peace nonetheless.

Yet as the image of the carnage lingered in his mind, a cold realization settled over him.

Unless...they had been influenced by the demons.

The scout tried to deny the idea, but it stuck firmly.

Nothing about the slaughter felt like the work of starving beasts. It was too savage. Too ruthless.

Demonic influence was the only explanation that made sense.

His pulse hammered against his ribs, each beat echoing like a war drum in the suffocating silence.

A single rogue goblin was one thing, but an entire group was something else entirely.

That wasn’t coincidence. It meant something bigger was at play.

His breathing quickened as the familiar burn spread through his chest, the sharp edge of panic threatening to take hold.

If the goblins were mobilizing, if the demons had a hand in this, then this wasn’t just another random bloodbath.

It was the beginning of something far worse.

It was war waiting to happen.

His hands curled into tight fists.

He had to report this immediately.

But first, his fingers tightened around the wooden cross pendant hanging from his neck.

Closing his eyes for the briefest moment, he offered a silent prayer for the fallen, for the families who would never see them again, and for the horrors that had unfolded in this forest.

When he opened them again, there was no hesitation left.

His figure melted into the shadows as he wove between the trees with practiced precision, each step so light it barely disturbed the undergrowth.

Every second mattered now.

The guild needed to know.

Because if the goblins had truly turned, if their clan had really been compromised, then there was only one solution:

Extermination.