Another soldier, an older veteran with a scarred face, spoke up. "In my twenty years fighting monsters, I've never seen goblins do anything remotely like this. They swarm. They overwhelm with numbers. They don't... strategize."
"Well, they're strategizing now," the lieutenant said grimly. "Which means we need to adjust our approach."
"What are your orders, sir?"
The lieutenant took a deep breath. "Send word to the Commander. Tell him the goblins are exhibiting unusual behavior—organized, tactical, and far more dangerous than expected. We'll need additional mage support and heavier armor for the next push."
"And the pursuit?"
"Continue, but with extreme caution," the lieutenant said. "No more small squads. We move in force,minimum twenty soldiers, with at least three mages for magical support. I'm not losing any more men to whatever the hell these goblins have become."
He paused, then added, "And tell the men to stop underestimating them. I don't care if they're goblins or gods anything that can kill ten of our soldiers in under five minutes deserves our full attention."
As the scout hurried off to relay the orders, one of the younger soldiers spoke up nervously. "Sir... do you think maybe they've been... trained? By someone?"
The lieutenant frowned. "Trained? By who? Another goblin?"
"I don't know, sir. But someone had to teach them these tactics. Goblins just... don't think like this on their own."
The veteran soldier grunted. "Kid's got a point. Maybe there's a hobgoblin or an orc advising them. Or worse, a human traitor."
"Speculation won't help us," the lieutenant said firmly. "What matters is that they're dangerous, and we need to eliminate them before they cause more damage. Now move out!"
As the soldiers began preparing for the next assault, whispers spread through their ranks.
"Did you hear? The goblins are fighting smart now."
"I heard they took out an entire squad without losing a single goblin."
"This is insane. Since when do goblins do anything other than charge and die?"
"Maybe they've evolved or something."
"Don't be stupid. Goblins don't evolve—they multiply and die. That's all they do."
"Then explain Delta Squad."
The whispers continued, doubt and unease spreading like a virus through the human forces.
Satou's group continued deeper into the cave, moving quickly but carefully. The wounded were supported by the fighters, and Jessica and Kelvin stayed close to Satou's sides.
"How much further to the crack?" Gob asked, his voice low.
"Not far," Satou replied. "But we need to prepare for another fight. The humans won't underestimate us after what just happened."
"Good," Gob said with a savage grin. "Let them come prepared. We'll still crush them."
Satou shook his head. "Don't get overconfident. We got lucky with that ambush. Next time, they'll be ready for our tactics."
"So what do we do?"
"We adapt," Satou said. "This time, we'll use a different strategy—"
His enhanced hearing suddenly picked up a sound that made his blood run cold.
Footsteps. Dozens of them. Heavy. Coordinated. And coming fast.
"They're here," Satou said, his voice tight. "And it sounds like they brought reinforcements."
Gob cursed. "How many?"
"Too many," Satou said. He turned to the group. "Everyone, move faster! We need to reach the crack before they catch up!"
The goblins broke into a run, the wounded struggling to keep pace.
But the humans were faster.
A voice echoed through the tunnel behind them—cold, authoritative, and speaking in the common tongue that none of the goblins except Satou could understand.
"All units, maintain formation! The goblins are ahead! Cut off their escape routes!"
Satou looked back and his heart sank.
At least twenty soldiers poured into view, their armor gleaming even in the dim cave light. Three mages walked among them, staffs glowing with deadly intent.
And at their head—a knight in full plate armor, his greatsword resting on his shoulder, the metal catching the light like a promise of death.
"Move! MOVE!" Satou screamed in goblin tongue.
But ahead of them, the tunnel narrowed and was partially blocked by rubble from an earlier collapse. They'd have to squeeze through or climb over it—and that would take time they didn't have.
"We're trapped," Gob said, his voice grim as he sized up the situation.
"No," Satou said, his mind racing even as panic clawed at his chest. "We're cornered. There's a difference."
He turned to face the oncoming humans, his stolen sword—now dulled from the earlier fight—gripped in one hand, his other hand crackling faintly with the Flame Spark skill he'd acquired.
"Everyone who can fight—with me! Form a defensive line! Everyone else, start climbing that rubble NOW!"
Gob stared at him for a moment, reading the determination in his eyes, then nodded sharply. "You heard the whelp! Fighters, form up! The rest of you, climb!"
Twenty-eight goblin fighters formed a desperate line across the tunnel, their weapons raised, their bodies battered but their eyes burning with defiance. Behind them, the wounded and non-combatants began scrambling over the rubble, their movements frantic.
The humans approached steadily, their formation tight and professional. The knight at their head raised his greatsword and spoke, his voice carrying clearly through the tunnel—though only Satou could understand the words.
"Goblins. Your tricks may have worked on a single patrol, but you face a full combat unit now. You have nowhere to run. Surrender, and I'll make your deaths quick."
Satou understood every word. But the knight didn't know that. And more importantly, the knight didn't expect a response he could understand.
So Satou did the only thing that made sense.
He spat on the ground and bared his teeth in a feral grin, letting out a string of gibberish goblin sounds that roughly translated to insults about the knight's mother and his sword's inadequate size.
The other goblins, not understanding the knight's words but reading Satou's defiant body language, responded in kind—screeching, howling, and banging their weapons against their shields.
The knight's eyes narrowed behind his helmet. He couldn't understand their words, but the message was clear: No surrender.
"Very well," the knight said coldly. "Kill them all. Leave no survivors."
He raised his greatsword high.
The soldiers charged.