"Well… this is an amazing hiding place."
Arin's voice was barely more than a whisper as he crouched atop a thick branch, his gaze fixed on the valley below.
What he saw made even him pause.
Hidden deep within the forest, tucked perfectly between two winding rivers and surrounded by what could only be described as small mountains, lay a massive concealed basin. Calling them "small" was misleading, however—each of those peaks easily reached close to a kilometer in height, at least by Arin's estimation. It was difficult to judge accurately.
This forest made sure of that.
The terrain itself was deceptive. Tree species changed as elevation shifted, creating a layered illusion that distorted depth and distance. At the valley's base, pale birch trees grew densely together, their white bark forming a ghostly canopy. Above them, sturdy oak trees gave way to towering redwoods that stretched skyward like pillars. Near the peaks, dark spruce trees dominated, their sharp silhouettes cutting into the sky.
It wasn't just this valley either.
The entire forest was like this—unpredictable, disorienting, almost alive in the way it obscured perception.
Unreadable.
At least, to most.
Arin narrowed his eyes slightly.
"…Found you."
The valley floor was crawling with goblins.
Thousands of them.
Even without counting, the scale was obvious. The movement alone gave it away—constant shifting, clustering, and dispersing like a living tide. If he had to estimate…
"At least five thousand," he murmured.
Possibly more.
Arin had already taken out three separate groups earlier that morning, each numbering around 50 to 100. But those had been scouts—stragglers.
This?
This was something else entirely.
Most of the goblins seemed to be moving toward the center of the forest, deeper still. And that alone was concerning. Because if this valley was just a waypoint…
Then what lay at the center?
Arin exhaled slowly, forcing his thoughts back to the present.
The forest itself was enormous—roughly two hundred by three hundred kilometers. Clearing it entirely was impossible. That had never been the objective.
Their mission was simple:
Kill as many as possible.
Break their organization.
Neutralize the threat.
And this group?
It was absolutely a threat.
"…Yeah," Arin muttered. "I'm not letting this one scatter."
If even half of these goblins escaped, they could regroup, reinforce, and pose a serious danger to advancing legions.
No.
This needed to be contained.
Encircled.
Eliminated.
"Well… guess I don't get to play around this time," he said quietly, though a hint of excitement crept into his voice.
Because this—
This meant he could finally use it.
Reaching into his quiver, Arin carefully pulled out a specialized arrow. Its design was different from the others—slightly heavier, with a reinforced shaft and a small cylindrical attachment near the tip.
A signal arrow.
Part flare.
Part marker.
A call to gather.
He lit the fuse.
A faint hiss followed as sparks danced along the mechanism.
Then, without hesitation, he drew his bow and fired—not into the valley, but at an angle that ensured the signal would rise above the treeline without alerting the goblins below.
The arrow soared.
A moment later—
A plume of thick red smoke burst into the sky.
It rose rapidly, climbing above the forest canopy like a beacon.
And it wasn't alone.
From Arin's vantage point, he could see others in the distance—more red plumes rising at various points along the forest's edge.
Signals.
Coordinates.
Assembly markers.
The hunt was no longer individual.
It had just become a coordinated kill.
Sergeant Clem Carter adjusted his grip on his spear as he climbed the steep incline, boots crunching against loose soil and stone.
"Keep formation!" he called out, glancing back at the men behind him.
They were moving toward one of the smoke signals.
The red plume was unmistakable.
Clem served in the 19th Legion of the United States Army—a force that, like many others, had been reshaped by the world's collapse.
He hadn't joined out of patriotism.
He had joined out of necessity.
After the Civil War, America had fractured. The country still existed in name, and the military remained operational—but beyond its structure, society had splintered. Cities and states had fallen under the control of corporations, factions, and gangs.
If you weren't part of the military—
You weren't safe.
Simple as that.
So Clem enlisted.
And now?
Now he was responsible for a thousand men.
Because he knew how to lead.
Because others didn't.
"Hey, Sarge," one of the soldiers called from behind him. "You think we'll see those archers from Legion 23?"
Clem didn't answer immediately.
"They're part of this operation too, right?"
"…Yeah," Clem said finally. "They are."
He frowned slightly.
"This could be one of theirs."
A murmur spread through the group.
"I hope not," he added under his breath.
He had heard the stories.
Everyone had.
Legion 23 wasn't normal.
Their archers—especially—were something else.
They didn't rely on the system as most soldiers did. They fought differently. Thought differently.
And if the rumors were true…
They didn't tolerate interference.
From anyone.
Not even commanders.
Clem exhaled slowly as they reached a clearing.
There, embedded in the ground, was the signal arrow.
Still smoking.
"…Great," he muttered.
He already knew this wouldn't be simple.
"Alright," he said louder. "We hold here. Wait for other units."
"What? Why?" a burly soldier protested. "We've got a hundred men! We can take a thousand goblins easily. The last three signals were nothing—like fifty each!"
Clem shook his head.
"That's exactly why we're waiting," he replied firmly.
The soldier frowned.
"What do you mean?"
Clem pointed at the arrow.
"Whoever fired this? They don't call for help for fifty goblins," he said. "They deal with that themselves."
A pause.
Then—
Understanding.
"You think it's one of them?" someone asked.
"…Yeah," Clem said.
Silence followed.
"Eat," Clem ordered after a moment. "We've been out here for six hours. Use the time."
There were groans.
No one liked the rations.
Grey bars.
Dense. Tasteless. Efficient.
Barely edible.
But orders were orders.
And soon enough, reluctant soldiers began pulling them out.
Clem did the same.
"…Let's get this over with."
"…Yeah, I should've just handled it myself."
Arin muttered under his breath as he watched the gathering forces from his concealed position.
Unit after unit had arrived.
More than enough.
Twenty units, at least.
Two thousand soldiers.
More than sufficient to surround the valley and eliminate the goblins with minimal losses.
Still—
He didn't like this.
Working with strangers.
"…Next time, I'm just killing them all," he grumbled.
But for now?
Too late.
He had called them.
Now he had to deal with them.
Arin sighed and popped a piece of hard candy into his mouth, letting it sit under his tongue.
Sweetness spread slowly, masking the lingering taste of those grey nuteriant bars.
"…Worth it."
He straightened slightly.
"…Alright."
No more delaying.
"Face it," he muttered to himself. "You can do this."
With that, Arin stepped forward—
And vanished.
A moment later, he reappeared in the center of a clearing, right in the middle of a group of gathered officers.
The reaction was immediate.
Weapons raised.
Shouts.
Tension spiking.
"Relax," Arin said casually, raising a hand. "I'm not an enemy."
The officers froze, though none lowered their weapons completely.
"…Who the hell are you?" one of them demanded.
"Arin," he replied. "Scout. Legion 23."
That alone changed the atmosphere.
Not relaxed—
But different.
"I'm the one who fired the signal," he continued, as if this were a routine conversation. "So listen up—I'll give you the situation."
Outwardly, he looked completely calm.
Unbothered.
Almost bored.
But beneath that surface?
His thoughts were anything but steady.
"Why did I do this…?" he screamed internally.
Still—
He didn't let it show.
"Valley ahead," Arin said, pointing deeper into the forest. "Natural enclosure. Two rivers, elevated terrain on all sides. Rough estimate—five thousand goblins."
That got their attention.
"Encirclement is possible," he continued. "If we coordinate properly, we can wipe them out before they scatter."
The officers exchanged looks.
"…And you're sure about the number?" Clem asked, stepping forward.
Arin glanced at him briefly.
"…Close enough," he said.
A beat.
Then a faint grin.
"You'll see soon enough."
Silence settled over the group.