The five goblins snarled, their jagged teeth bared and their yellow eyes gleaming with malicious intent.

They gripped their crude weapons tightly—rusty daggers, splintered clubs, and crude spears—before letting out a guttural war cry.

The hero stood firm in front of them, his sword gleaming in the dim sunlight filtering through the trees.

The wind rustled the leaves overhead, but he didn’t flinch.

His grip on his weapon tightened, and his sharp gaze remained fixed on the goblins.

With a shrill scream, the goblins charged at him.

Their heavy steps crushed the grass underfoot as they surged forward.

The first goblin lunged with its rusty dagger aimed for the hero’s chest.

The hero sidestepped with a swift and fluid motion, the goblin’s blade slicing through empty air.

Before the creature could react, the hero brought the pommel of his sword down on its head, sending it sprawling to the ground.

Another goblin swung its club in a wild arc, aiming to crush the hero’s ribs.

The hero ducked just in time, the wind of the strike ruffling his hair.

Without hesitation, he countered with a powerful kick to the goblin’s stomach, sending it tumbling backward into the dirt with a grunt.

Suddenly, the hero caught movement from the corner of his eye—a goblin breaking away from the fight and charging toward the Saintess and Kenta.

His heart pounded as he shouted, “Stay back!”

Acting quickly, he grabbed the nearest goblin by the arm, spun it around with startling strength, and hurled it toward the fleeing one.

Both goblins collided with a sickening thud, tumbling into a heap.

The hero didn’t waste a second.

He turned to face the goblins again, his blade gleaming as he brought it down in a clean arc.

The first goblin didn’t even have time to scream before the sharp steel bit into its neck.

Blood sprayed into the air as its head rolled to the ground, and its lifeless body collapsed with a dull thud.

The remaining goblins howled in rage at the death of their comrade.

Their movements grew frenzied as they all lunged at the hero at once.

The hero exhaled sharply, his muscles tensing as he prepared to meet their assault.

He swung his sword in a wide, precise arc, the blade slicing cleanly through one goblin’s chest.

Blood splattered across the ground as the goblin fell with a gurgled cry.

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Another goblin lunged at him from the side, its crude spear aimed for his shoulder.

The hero twisted, avoiding the tip by mere inches.

He delivered a powerful kick to its chest, sending it hurtling into the goblin beside it.

Both creatures crashed into a tree, their blood staining the trunk.

The final goblin hesitated for a moment, its yellow eyes flickering with fear.

But it was too late.

The hero surged forward with astonishing speed, his blade thrusting into its chest with deadly precision.

The goblin let out a choking gasp before crumpling to the ground, motionless.

The forest fell silent once more, save for the distant rustle of leaves and the faint chirping of birds.

The hero stood amidst the carnage, his breathing steady as he wiped the blood from his blade with a leaf.

He turned back toward the Saintess and Kenta, his eyes softening.

“Are you two okay?” he asked, his voice calm despite the recent battle.

“Yes,” the Saintess said, her hands still protectively on Kenta’s shoulders.

She offered a small, relieved smile.

“Thank you.”

“You’re really strong!” Kenta said, his eyes wide with admiration. “Will you teach me how to use a sword?”

The hero crouched down to Kenta’s level, resting the blade of his sword against the ground.

“Why do you want to learn that?” he asked gently.

Kenta’s small fists clenched at his sides, determination shining in his eyes.

“If I get stronger, I can protect everyone myself. I won’t have to run away anymore.”

The hero studied the boy for a moment before a faint smile crossed his lips.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll teach you.”

Kenta’s face lit up, a smile breaking through his earlier fear.

“Thank you!” he said, his voice filled with hope.

The hero rose to his feet, sheathing his sword.

“Let’s keep moving,” he said, nodding toward the forest path ahead.

As the three of them resumed their journey, the tension of the battle slowly ebbed away.

The sound of their footsteps brushing through the grass mixed with the rustling leaves, and despite the dangers that lay ahead, there was a renewed sense of purpose in their stride.

----

The three of them continued their journey, weaving through the dense forest.

The faint sounds of chirping birds and the soft rustling of leaves accompanied their steady footsteps.

Kenta clutched the Saintess's hand tightly, his earlier fear giving way to a glimmer of hope.

Surprisingly, no monsters crossed their path.

The hero’s sharp senses picked up nothing but the gentle hum of nature as they moved through the towering trees and the soft grass beneath their feet.

As they pressed onward, the forest began to thin, and sunlight spilled through the gaps in the canopy, casting golden patches on the ground.

Eventually, they reached an open area.

Before them stretched a vast clearing, and in the distance, a small village came into view.

Kenta's eyes lit up, and he tugged at the Saintess's sleeve excitedly.

“That’s my village!” he exclaimed, pointing toward the cluster of wooden houses nestled at the southern edge of the forest.

The Saintess smiled warmly, her hand resting gently on Kenta’s head.

“We’ve finally arrived,” she said, her voice filled with relief.

“Let’s go quickly,” the hero urged, his hand instinctively resting on the hilt of his sword, still wary of any lurking dangers.

The three of them hurried toward the village.

As they approached the outskirts, the villagers emerged cautiously from their homes, their faces tense and wary.

Their hands clutched farming tools and crude weapons, ready to defend their home.

But then, their eyes fell on Kenta.

“Kenta!” a woman’s voice broke through the tension, trembling with emotion.

A woman with disheveled hair and tear-streaked cheeks pushed through the small crowd.

Her eyes widened as she saw the boy. “My baby!” she cried, rushing forward.

“Mom!” Kenta shouted, breaking free from the Saintess and running into his mother’s open arms.

She knelt down and pulled him close, tears streaming down her face as she clutched him tightly.

“I thought I lost you forever,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

The villagers lowered their weapons, their guarded expressions softening into relief and gratitude.

“Thank you so much for bringing my son back to me,” Kenta’s mother said, her voice trembling as she turned to the hero and the Saintess.

The hero stepped forward, his expression kind but firm.

“It was the least we could do,” he said. “But... where is Kenta’s father?”

A heavy silence fell over the group.

An older man stepped forward, his weathered face marked with sorrow.

His back was slightly hunched, but his presence commanded quiet respect.

“He died protecting this village from monsters,” the old man said solemnly, his voice steady despite the weight of his words.

“Grandpa!” Kenta’s voice broke the moment as he spotted the old man.

He ran toward him and was immediately scooped up into a tight embrace.

“My boy,” the old man said, his voice thick with emotion. “You’ve been so brave. I’m so proud of you.”

Kenta buried his face in his grandfather’s shoulder, tears of relief spilling down his cheeks.

The hero and the Saintess stepped back, giving the family space to reunite.

The old man turned to them after a moment, his arms still around Kenta.

“Thank you for saving my grandson. My daughter was beside herself with worry. I owe you more than words can express.”

The Saintess smiled gently, and the hero nodded, humility in his stance.

Later, after Kenta had gone with his mother, the hero and Saintess sat with the villagers to discuss their stay.

The villagers surrounded them, their faces a mixture of curiosity and gratitude.

“Is there anything we can do to repay you?” Kenta’s grandfather asked, his tone earnest.

The hero hesitated for a moment.

"If it’s not too much trouble... could we stay here for a few days? We’ve been traveling for a long time and need some rest.”

The old man waved his hand dismissively.

“Why only a few days? You’re welcome to stay as long as you like. This village will always have room for those who saved one of our own.”

The hero’s shoulders relaxed, and a small smile touched his lips. “Thank you. That means a lot to us.”

The old man smiled warmly. “It’s the least we can do for my grandson’s saviors.”

The villagers slowly returned to their tasks, the tension that had gripped the village earlier replaced by a sense of calm.

The hero and Saintess exchanged a glance, their unspoken relief mirrored in their eyes.

For the first time in what felt like ages, they had found a place where they could rest, even if just for a little while.