Satou's eyes swept across the approaching human force—twenty soldiers in formation, three mages with staffs already glowing, and a knight whose armor alone probably cost more than an entire goblin tribe's worth.
No tricks will work here. No ambush. No clever tactics.
This wasn't like the junction where they had the element of surprise and favorable terrain. This was a straight corridor with nowhere to hide and an enemy that had learned to respect them.
We're going to lose people. A lot of people.
Satou's jaw clenched. The only question was: how many could he save?
His eyes darted to the crack in the wall behind them,their only escape route. It was still too narrow. They'd never get everyone through in time before the humans cut them down from behind.
Unless...
An idea formed. Desperate. Costly. But it was all they had.
Satou turned sharply and scanned the goblin fighters until he spotted what he needed was three massive goblins, each standing nearly six feet tall with arms like tree trunks. They carried enormous clubs and hammers, weapons meant for crushing, not cutting.
"You three!" Satou barked in goblin tongue, pointing at them. "Big ones! Come here!"
The three lumbering goblins pushed through the formation, their heavy footsteps shaking the ground. Up close, they were even more intimidating,scarred, muscular, with tusks jutting from their lower jaws.
"You see that crack?" Satou pointed toward the narrow opening in the cave wall. "I need you to widen it. Use your hammers, your clubs ,smash the edges until everyone can fit through. Do you understand?"
The largest one, a brute with a broken tusk and one milky eye, grunted. "Hit rock. Make hole bigger."
"Exactly," Satou said. "But you need to start NOW. Don't stop, no matter what you hear behind you. Just keep hitting until the job is done."
The three big goblins nodded and immediately turned, lumbering toward the crack. Within seconds, the rhythmic CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! of metal on stone echoed through the cave.
Gob moved beside Satou, his expression dark. "You just sent our three strongest fighters to pound rocks."
"I know," Satou said quietly.
"That means we're fighting them—" Gob jerked his head toward the approaching humans, "—with weakened forces."
"I know," Satou repeated, his voice hollow.
Gob was silent for a moment, then spat on the ground. "You better be right about this, whelp."
Satou didn't respond. He couldn't. Because he wasn't sure he was right. He was gambling with lives,goblin lives that had started to matter to him more than he wanted to admit.
Behind them, the CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! continued, each strike chipping away at their fighting strength.
Ahead, the knight raised his greatsword.
"Forward march! Mages, prepare suppressing fire!"
The human formation advanced like a steel tide—shields raised, swords gleaming, boots striking the stone floor in perfect unison.
The three mages raised their staffs in synchronized motion.
"Flame Barrage!"
Three spheres of fire materialized and shot forward, arcing through the air toward the goblin line.
"SCATTER!" Satou screamed.
The goblins dove in different directions. Two fireballs struck the ground where they'd been standing, exploding in bursts of heat and force that sent goblins tumbling. The third struck a goblin warrior who'd been too slow—he screamed as flames engulfed him, his body thrashing before going still.
First casualty.
"Scouts! Return fire!" Gob roared.
Five goblin scouts loosed arrows. Most bounced harmlessly off shields and armor, but one found a gap—striking a soldier in the shoulder. The man grunted, stumbling, but kept advancing.
The humans were fifteen feet away now.
Ten feet.
"CHARGE!"
The soldiers broke into a run, their war cries echoing off the cave walls.
The goblins met them head-on.
Steel clashed against crude iron. Sparks flew. Blood sprayed.
A goblin warrior swung his axe at a soldier's head. The soldier blocked with his shield, then thrust his sword through the goblin's stomach. The goblin gasped, blood bubbling from his lips, before collapsing.
Another goblin—a lean scout with daggers—darted between two soldiers, slashing at exposed joints. He managed to cut one soldier's hamstring, dropping the man to his knees, before a second soldier's blade caught him in the spine. He fell without a sound.
Gob's axe came down in a brutal overhead swing, smashing through a soldier's raised shield and into his collarbone. Bone crunched. The soldier screamed. Gob kicked him aside and moved to the next target.
But the humans had numbers, training, and superior equipment.
A mage raised his staff. "Ice Spear!"
A jagged spear of ice materialized and shot forward, impaling a goblin shaman through the chest. The shaman's eyes went wide with shock before he crumpled, his staff clattering to the ground.
Another mage chanted. "Lightning Bolt!"
The crackling arc of electricity struck a cluster of three goblin warriors. Their bodies convulsed, smoke rising from their charred flesh, before they collapsed in a heap.
Satou spat a stone shard at the lightning mage, aiming for his face. The shard struck true, breaking the mage's nose and interrupting his next spell. Blood poured down the mage's face as he staggered back.
But before Satou could follow up, a soldier was on him—sword raised high.
Satou barely managed to raise his dulled blade in time. The impact jarred his arms, nearly knocking the weapon from his grip. He stumbled back, his Basic Swordsmanship skill the only thing keeping him alive as he desperately parried blow after blow.
The soldier was stronger, better trained, and wearing proper armor.
Satou was a newborn goblin with stolen skills and a prayer.
The soldier's blade sliced across Satou's arm, drawing blood. Pain shot through him, but he forced himself to keep moving.
I can't die here. Jessica and Kelvin are depending on me.
He activated Flame Spark, the small fire appearing at his fingertip. The soldier saw it and laughed—a sound of pure contempt.
"What are you going to do with that? Light my cigarette?"
Satou didn't respond. He couldn't. Instead, he threw the tiny flame at the soldier's face.
It was barely larger than a candle flame, but it was enough. The soldier flinched instinctively, raising his hand to protect his eyes—
And Satou lunged forward, his fangs extending, and bit down on the exposed wrist.
His Poison Fang skill activated. Venom pumped into the soldier's bloodstream.
The soldier screamed, shaking his arm violently and finally throwing Satou off. But the damage was done. The poison was spreading—the soldier's face turned pale, his movements sluggish.
Satou grabbed his fallen sword and, with both hands, drove it into the gap between the soldier's helmet and chest plate.
Blood sprayed.
The soldier collapsed.
Satou stood there, panting, his body screaming in protest. Around him, the battle raged on.
And the goblins were losing.
Bodies littered the ground—most of them green-skinned. The goblins fought with savage desperation, but they were being overwhelmed.
A goblin warrior had his head cleaved in two by the knight's greatsword.
A scout was run through by two soldiers working in tandem.
A shaman's spell backfired, the magical energy consuming him from within.
We're not going to make it. Too many are dying.