Fifty years ago.
That was when the tree spirit acquired its ability.
The Vice Captain fell silent.
He had one or two theories, but neither was certain. Fifty years ago, there was a grand event had shaken the continent.
It could be connected.
Or it could be coincidence.
For now, speculation was useless.
He lacked evidence.
And he disliked moving without it.
The matter would require deeper investigation.
For the moment, he set it aside.
He turned his attention back toward the city.
It was time to see how things were progressing.
So, he returned to the city.
He did not announce himself.
He walked.
Every street he passed was occupied.
Knights stood at intersections. Patrol units moved in rotating shifts. Watchtowers had been reinforced. Outer scouts were positioned beyond the walls, layered in widening circles.
The prisoners had been scattered exactly as ordered.
Markets.
Alleys.
Sewers.
Gate approaches.
Each one marked. Each one monitored. Each one a living sensor.
There were no civilians in sight.
No merchants.
No children.
The city was no longer a city.
It was a military structure.
Mi had returned from his journey with the five hundred knights. The formations had been reorganized. Defensive grids reinforced. Training rotations implemented.
Everything was aligned.
Exactly as commanded.
The Vice Captain observed for several minutes.
Satisfied, he turned his thoughts toward the festival.
The idea had always been simple.
It would not be held within the city walls.
The city was an asset.
The forest was expendable.
The festival would take place outdoors.
After some time, the goblins had been informed of the time and location.
There would be no confusion.
No delay.
He returned to his quarters that evening.
He had not rested properly during the two months of cultivation. Refinement had taken priority over sleep.
Now, with the Second Stage stabilized, exhaustion caught up to him.
He lay down.
And slept.
Deeply.
So deeply that when morning came, he rose feeling unfamiliar clarity, almost disoriented.
For a brief moment, he forgot.
It was one of his knights who reminded him.
"The festival, Vice Captain."
He nodded once.
That was how tired he had been.
He summoned the other four members of the Twelfth Unit.
They moved together toward the forest.
The air was cool.
The ground still scarred from previous fire.
When they arrived at the designated clearing, the goblin family was already there.
Waiting.
They stood in silence.
No talking.
No arguing.
Exhaustion marked their faces. Sleeplessness hollowed their eyes.
They had not fled.
They had not resisted.
They had come.
The Vice Captain stepped forward.
And the forest held its breath.
The Vice Captain approached them slowly, suppressing a yawn.
He looked almost bored.
"Thank you for arriving," he said lightly. "I will now explain the rules."
The goblins stood in a tight cluster. No one dared lift their eyes.
"The rules are simple," he continued. "One hour."
He raised a finger.
"You will run."
Another finger.
"Ten of my knights will hunt you."
A faint pause.
"If you escape for one hour, you win. You will be free. You may go wherever you wish."
His gaze hardened.
"If you are caught, you die."
Silence.
"Since I am reasonable," he added casually, "no captains will participate. Only ten lower-ranking knights."
He tilted his head slightly.
"Everything understood?"
The goblins trembled.
It was not a question.
They nodded.
No one spoke.
"Good," the Vice Captain said.
He gestured toward the forest.
"Run."
They hesitated only a fraction of a second before scrambling away, stumbling over roots and each other in their desperation.
"Ah."
The Vice Captain's voice stopped them mid-motion.
"That's right."
He turned lazily toward the knights behind him.
"Make that eleven."
The goblins froze.
"What?" one of them breathed without meaning to.
The Vice Captain extended his hand.
"Come."
From behind the knights stepped the father.
The young goblin's father.
He had been standing among the hunters.
His face was pale. His hands shook. But when the Vice Captain's eyes fell on him, something changed.
Relief.
Gratitude.
He rushed forward.
"Thank you, sir. Thank you for remembering."
The Vice Captain gave a faint nod, as if granting a minor favor.
"You will hunt with them," he said.
The father turned toward his family.
He did not meet their eyes.
The young goblin stared at him in disbelief.
The Vice Captain waved his hand dismissively, as if shooing stray animals.
"You have five minutes," he said.
"Use them well."
The goblins broke.
They ran into the forest without coordination, without strategy, only instinct.
The Vice Captain lowered his hand.
The ten knights stepped forward.
The father joined them.
Five minutes passed.
The Vice Captain's voice was calm.
"Begin."
The hunt started.