"Hey, Grandpa… did you get permission for us to operate separately from the legion?" Arin asked, glancing toward Karl as the family sat gathered around a small campfire.
They were resting on the open plain between the forest and the hilly region they had spent the past week conquering. Back on Earth, this land would have been farmland—orderly fields stretching to the horizon. Now, however, it resembled a windswept savanna. It was still lush in places, but at the same time trampled and worn down by the sheer number of soldiers camped across it. The ground was uneven, the grass flattened, and the signs of war were everywhere.
Tomorrow would mark a major shift. Roughly fifty experienced legions were set to enter the forest to flush out the goblins. Another two hundred would surround it, ensuring none could escape. The remaining legions would continue pushing the front line forward, either until they found another obstacle like the river or drove the goblins back into the portal entirely.
For now, though, they ate.
MREs.
They weren't in a fortified position, so no proper kitchens had been set up. Everyone had to make do with the pre-packaged meals. Arin poked at his food with a fork. Now that he had proper utensils, it was at least manageable—but that didn't mean he enjoyed it.
"Yes," Karl replied calmly. "I got permission from Eloi." A faint smile appeared on his face. "We'll be moving on our own. But in exchange, we go in first. We scout the forest for the legion."
Excitement spread almost instantly through the group.
Karl wasn't the only one pleased—far from it. The entire family looked energized. They had grown up in forests, after all. Being confined to open battlefields had never suited them. The idea of returning to a forest, of moving freely again without restraint, was something they had all been waiting for.
"I can't wait," Tom said loudly, staring down at his MRE with clear dissatisfaction. "First thing I'm doing when we get one of those interspatial rings from the shop is filling it with real food."
He grimaced slightly. "Don't get me wrong—it's not bad… but the consistency is awful."
A few of the others chuckled.
"Yes, Tom, we get it," Johny said, rolling his eyes. "Food first. But after that? Arrows. Lots of arrows. Carrying more than two hundred is already pushing it."
"Hey… does the shop even sell something like that?" Johny added, his gaze unfocused as he browsed through the system interface.
That got everyone thinking.
"…Good question," Arin admitted. "I don't know."
They quickly checked.
The result was disappointing.
"No direct items like that," Johny concluded after a while. "At least nothing usable right now."
"There are materials," Arin added, frowning slightly. "Ores with spatial properties. But they're expensive."
"Too expensive," Karl said bluntly.
Especially since they still hadn't been compensated for their earlier purchases. Eloi had already reported the issue, but nothing had come through yet.
And Karl was getting irritated.
That, more than anything, was a problem.
Eloi knew it well. After Karl's first death, he had taken the time to look into the Sonneberg family history. What he found had been… unsettling.
More than twenty suspected murders.
No charges.
No evidence.
Just a pattern.
Every victim had been a bureaucrat—someone who had tried to interfere with the family's forest. The land had bordered a growing city, and development projects had repeatedly attempted to claim it.
Those attempts had not ended well.
People who pushed too hard had ended up dead, arrows lodged cleanly in their chests. Investigations had been thorough. Cameras had even been set up around the forest after a mayor was assassinated in broad daylight, drawing attention from national intelligence agencies.
Nothing had been found.
No evidence. No suspects. No mistakes.
Eventually, people stopped trying.
"…Yeah," Arin thought, glancing briefly at Karl. "Let's hope they fix that reimbursement soon."
By the time the sun rose over the horizon, the camp was already coming to life. Soldiers stirred from sleep, the night watch rotated out, and orders began spreading across the plain.
Arin and his family, however, were already gone.
They had entered the forest before most of the camp had even woken up.
Moving swiftly and silently, they weaved through the trees with practiced ease. Where others would struggle with the terrain, they thrived. Every step was natural, every movement efficient.
And with that—
The competition began.
"Place your bets! Place your bets before the pot closes at noon!"
The shout echoed faintly through the trees.
To an outsider, it might have sounded like a common bookie calling for wagers. But anyone familiar with the legion would know better.
Those voices belonged to officers.
Captains.
Even the vice-legion commander had gotten involved.
In most legions, that would have been unthinkable. Here, it was perfectly normal.
Eloi allowed it—encouraged it, even.
He understood that the conditions they were fighting under were brutal. Without some kind of release, soldiers would break. This controlled form of gambling and competition gave them an outlet. It relieved stress, boosted morale, and kept them engaged.
Of course, it was monitored carefully. No one was allowed to spiral into addiction. Still, compared to other legions—where discipline crushed morale—the difference was obvious.
Here, soldiers smiled.
They joked.
They looked forward to the day.
Arin moved through the forest with ease, his steps light and controlled.
For the first time in days, he felt at peace.
This was familiar territory. Natural. Comfortable.
Even if something was off.
The forest felt… empty.
No birds. No insects. No background noise of life.
Just silence.
Still, it was better than the battlefield.
Then—
He heard it.
Voices.
Harsh. Grating. Chaotic.
A smile formed on his face.
"…Found you."
He moved closer, careful not to make a sound. Through the trees, he spotted them.
Goblins.
Around fifty.
They seemed to be arguing—or at least making enough noise to suggest it.
"Not much," Arin thought. "I can handle that."
He climbed a tree smoothly, settling into a stable position on a thick branch. From there, he had a clear view.
He nocked an arrow.
Breathed in.
Breathed out.
Released.
The first arrow flew.
Before it hit, the second followed.
Then a third.
A fourth.
Panic erupted almost instantly.
The goblins screamed, scattered, and broke formation. Without anyone to command them, they quickly fell into chaos.
By the fifth arrow, they were already fleeing.
By the tenth, they were gone.
Arin lowered his bow slightly, watching as they disappeared into the forest.
"…Good enough."
He didn't chase.
That wasn't the goal.
They weren't here to wipe out every goblin.
They were here to instill fear.
To teach them that gathering in groups made them targets.
To force them to scatter.
To weaken them before the legions advanced.
Arin shifted his footing and scanned the forest once more.
"…Alright."
Then he moved again—silent as ever—already searching for the next group.
The hunt had only just begun.