From the tree, small green hands emerged, gripping a bow with an arrow drawn taut.
Swoosh!
The arrow flew with frightening speed, aimed directly at the Caravan's driver—until, just before it could strike flesh—
Slash!
Vaelira swung her sword in a flash, slicing the arrow clean in half as the pieces clattered to the ground.
She turned swiftly to her comrades, who were already drawing their swords. "Into formations!" she commanded. "Protect the Caravan at all costs!"
Facing forward again, she saw more goblin hands rising from the tree's branches, arrows nocked and ready. She grit her teeth. "Brace yourselves!"
Arrows rained down through the air. A female knight was struck in the shoulder and tumbled off her horse, groaning in pain. Another knight's horse collapsed with a heavy thud, pierced fatally.
Vaelira's mind raced, trying to form a plan to deal with the archers—until her ears twitched at a sound nearby.
Rustling. Both sides.
Goblins.
They emerged from the grass, using their green skin and ghillie suits to blend perfectly into the field. They wore mismatched scraps of armor—none on their heads—and wielded short swords with crude precision.
Retreating was out of the question. If they ran, the goblins in the trees would shoot down the horses pulling the Caravan. She could flee with her fellow knights—but that would not only be dishonorable, it would be a betrayal of her duty as the commanding officer.
She bit her lip hard.
There was only one choice left.
Stand their ground… and pray for the best. The goblins came charging in, swinging their crude swords as they clashed with the knights. One-on-one, the goblins weren't much of a threat—but once they grouped in threes or more, they quickly became overwhelming.
Vaelira was just about to rush in to support her comrades when a goblin suddenly lunged from the ground, aiming for her head. She ducked just in time and drove her blade through its chest, yanking it free and tossing the creature aside.
"Disgusting…" she muttered.
Five knights held the line at the front of the Caravan, shielding the driver and horses from any goblin that dared approach.
Vaelira dismounted, slapped her horse's flank to send it running, then sprinted forward to join her fellow knights in defending the front.
They stood shoulder to shoulder, covering each other as more goblins rushed in. Vaelira parried an incoming strike, then cleaved the goblin in two—but a sudden shift behind her made her instincts flare.
A goblin leapt down from the top of the Caravan, blade ready to plunge into her back—but she spun with a swift 360, her tail whipping the creature out of the air and slamming it into the ground. Without hesitation, she drove her sword into its chest.
But that close call triggered a chilling realization.
The prisoners.
They were still inside the Caravan. What if the goblins had gotten in? Could they have breached the metal door? Goblins were clever—but were they that clever?
Either way, it didn't matter right now.
She gritted her teeth.
The battle wasn't over. She had to focus. She had to make sure they survived. The battle raged on, goblin bodies piling atop one another, their blood soaking the dirt path beneath them.
Still, they kept coming.
Kill one, and two more would appear. It was endless. A relentless horde.
"Aahhh!!" One of the knights, already wounded by an earlier arrow, screamed as she was dragged down, overrun by the swarm.
Vaelira tried to reach her, but it was no use. More goblins flooded in, forcing her and another knight back. Every time they swung, another goblin leapt forward to take its place.
"They just won't stop coming!" one of the knights cried out, her face smeared with blood, exhaustion weighing in her voice.
Was this really how it would end?
Vaelira clenched her jaw. No. She wouldn't allow it. Not here. Not like this—not to filthy goblins.
Her grip tightened on her sword hilt, her magic ready to awaken.
Then—whip.
A goblin's ear flew past her, torn clean off.
A shriek followed.
Vaelira's head snapped toward the source—and to her shock, there stood Solas. His blade sliced through a goblin's throat in one clean motion, its body collapsing with a wet gargle.
With elegance, Solas flicked the blood from the blade. Next to him, the wounded knight lay alive, the very sword she had dropped now gripped in his hands.
Vaelira's eyes widened.
He… saved her?
Why?
He was a prisoner. A man at that.
And yet none of that mattered now—not when the tide might finally turn.
For the first time in that bloody chaos, hope surged through her.
They had another fighter. And right now, that was all they needed.
Goblins nearby were visibly enraged by the act Solas had done effortlessly to their fellow goblin. One of them came running toward him, swinging its blade.
Solas sidestepped the goblin's swing with calm, fluid movement, as if he had seen this attack a hundred times before. His blade pierced up under the creature's chin, severing its throat with clean efficiency.
The other goblins took a step back at what they'd just witnessed. This man wasn't like the knights. He was more calculated—his strikes precise, knowing exactly where to hit.
But they weren't going to let fear stop them. All at once, they rushed forward—snarling, swinging their blades with reckless aggression.
Solas stepped back just enough to let the first blade scrape the air before his chest, then twisted his body sideways. In the same motion, his sword arced upward, piercing beneath the goblin's jaw and exiting through the top of its skull.
He kicked the dead creature into the next one, using the momentum to knock it off balance. As it stumbled, Solas pivoted—slicing its throat before it could even scream.
A third goblin leapt at him from behind, its blade aimed for his skull. He didn't turn. He ducked, letting the swing pass harmlessly over him, then drove his sword backward into its gut with a reverse grip—twisting just enough to rupture something vital.
With a flick, he flung the corpse from his blade and let it crumple to the ground.
Solas exhaled—barely affected.
Solas flicked his sword, casting off the blood that clung to the blade. He kneeled beside the wounded knight, checking her condition.
Fortunately, she was alive. No vital damage—just an arrow wound and a slash across her side.
He stood and began walking toward the front of the caravan, where Valeria and the remaining knights stood. They looked physically exhausted from the relentless assault—all except Valeria.
A slight smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
Ever since Solas had entered the fray and effortlessly cut down the goblins, their assault had begun to wane. It felt like the ambush was finally reaching its end.
Valeria cleaved through the last goblin near her, then glanced toward Solas, who remained untouched.
"It looks like you handled yourself quite well," she said.
Solas gave her a casual smile.
"Something like that."
The remaining knights struck down the final goblins with what little strength they had left. Their breathing was heavy, arms nearly limp. The battlefield fell quiet—except for the retreating footsteps of a few goblins, who backed away with crooked grins before fleeing into the fields.
Some of the knights began cheering, celebrating what they believed was a hard-fought victory.
But not Solas. Not Valeria.
Something felt wrong.
Slam!
An object soared through the air and crashed into the side of the caravan with a brutal thud.
"Aaahhh!" The driver screamed in sheer horror.
Valeria and Solas snapped their heads toward the sound—what they saw made their blood run cold.
The body of the orange-haired girl lay limp across the driver's lap. Her eyes were vacant. Her neck—snapped.
Their eyes then turned toward the direction the body had come from.
And what they saw was something they did not expect…