"King Midas the Light-Handed," Calis said through clenched teeth, "is the goblin king who oversees the mercenary band, the Fell-Handed. Let me ask you, Drell—why in the nine hells is the king of the Fell-Handed here, on a frontier island, raising fucking mushrooms?"

Drell squealed and stammered, "Drell does not know, mistress! A year ago, he came here and found us. When he did, he took the people. Before, we lived here in the city. He killed our chief, and now he is the king."

Calis glanced at Jax and said, "It likely doesn’t matter for us today, but we’ve killed a very powerful enemy. Whatever this is, we are out of our depth on this one."

Jax shrugged. "So, do we leave this prince and his men and just walk away?"

The look of utter disdain she gave him was startling. "Leave? Why in the hells would we leave? Midas isn’t here, and I promise you that his whelp has more experience and loot in him than an entire army. We kill that one, and the windfall will be beyond worth it. I’m a mercenary, boy—we never leave loot on the table."

Jax shrugged, brushing off Calis’s disdain with practiced ease. "Fine. Let’s plan this out."

The two leaders huddled close, their conversation low and fast. Calis sketched ideas with quick, decisive words, her fingers twitching as though tracing strategies in the air. Jax listened, occasionally interjecting with a question or a suggestion often given to him by the others through his mental link, though most of the time, she waved him off. By the time they finished, there was a tension in the air, unspoken but heavy. Jax was happy that he had he experience to lead him in this.

They didn’t bother explaining the plan to the goblins or hobgoblins left behind They would stay and wait for the group to return. For now, that was all Jax needed from them.

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The chill was sharp and cold as Jax crouched on the roof. His fingers gripped the edge of the skylight, his knuckles pale. Beside him, Jerg loomed like a small, misshapen mountain.

Jerg’s voice was gravelly but soft, meant to reassure. "You’ll survive the fall. You’re light. Fragile, maybe, but you’ll bounce."

Jax’s stomach twisted. "Bounce?"

The gong gave what might have been a grin. It was hard to tell with his jagged, grey features. "Bounce. Not splat."

That did not help.

Nia’s thoughts drifted into his head, calm and grounding. "Don’t focus on the fall. I’ll cast darkness as we go—it’ll blind them long enough for us to hit the ground and start fighting. You’ll do fine."

Jax exhaled slowly, trying to keep his nerves in check. He focused on the skylight. It was large, its glass faintly fogged, but the light and sound of the feast below still spilled out. Carefully, he teased open one edge of the glass, inch by inch, the faint creak of its hinges setting his teeth on edge. As he did he thought to himself "Why do they need a skylight, there is no sundown here, what a strange decision."

Below, the room came into view. It was chaos and revelry—a warped mockery of a banquet hall. The goblins, clearly enslaved, shuffled between the tables carrying trays of food and drink. They moved with the fearful precision of the subjugated, heads bowed, eyes averted.

The hobgoblins were another matter entirely. Large, brutish, and visibly drunk, they sprawled at the long tables, shouting and laughing, throwing scraps of food and snapping at the goblins who served them. One goblin stumbled, spilling ale across the table, and the nearest hobgoblin cuffed him hard enough to send him sprawling. The others roared with laughter.

At the head of the room sat the prince. Unlike his subordinates, he was armored, though the plates were unfastened and his helmet lay discarded at his side. His eyes glinted with cruel intelligence as he barked orders, his voice cutting through the din. Despite the chaos around him, there was no mistaking his authority.

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Jax’s breath slowed as he scanned the room. In the shadows, he spotted movement—silent and deliberate. The assassins were in position around the room, barely visible even to him. One of them glanced up toward the skylight, their hand lifting briefly in signal.

Before Jax could react, the torches and candles below were extinguished, plunging the hall into darkness.

Nia’s thoughts came sharp and clear. "Now!"

ax clenched his jaw, forced himself to move, and leapt.

The world rushed past in a blur of cold air and shadow. The skylight shattered around him as he plunged into the room below, shards of glass scattering like deadly rain. He landed hard, his knees bending to absorb the impact, his blades already drawn.

Jerg followed a heartbeat later, his massive bulk crashing to the floor with a resounding thud. The ground trembled under the gong’s weight, his large mace already swinging in a deadly arc.

Then came Durg, his roar splitting the air as he hit the ground, both hands gripping his crude hammer.

The fight had begun, yet they were not in a magical darkness like the had intended, the lights had gone out with a gust, yet they could all see quite clearly. Jax had his goggles, and the gong had their superior night vision.

The fight had begun, yet not as they had planned. The magical darkness Nia had promised never came. Instead, the lights had gone out in a sudden gust, plunging the hall into an eerie natural darkness. It was enough to confuse the goblins, who stumbled blindly, but not the hobgoblins. Jax could see clearly through the grayscale of his enchanted goggles, and the gongs' superior night vision made them even more comfortable in the shadows.

The prince's voice rang out, sharp and commanding. "Guards! Form up! Jaun go get the men at the watch!"

Chaos erupted. Goblins shrieked and dropped their trays, crashing into furniture and each other. Hobgoblins bellowed orders, their heavy boots stomping across the floor. One of them—a hulking brute—made a dash for the side door.

Jax barely registered it. Too many things happened at once.

Jerg and Durg had seized a hobgoblin between them, their massive hands gripping its arms. The poor creature screamed as the gongs smashed at it, each blow landing with sickening force. Across the room, the would-be runner was intercepted by one of the assassins, a shadowy blur of efficiency.

Calis was already engaging the prince. Her dual blades flashed as they clashed with his heavy longsword. He roared in fury, but she matched him strike for strike, her movements fluid and unrelenting.

Jax stayed low, moving through the fray, but something was wrong. An oppressive, gnawing sensation crept over him, like invisible fingers brushing against his skin. It wasn't the chaos of the battle—this was deeper. He could feel the power of souls here, many souls, a writhing mass that churned in the air like a storm cloud. They were interfering with Nia’s magic.

A hobgoblin rushed past him, its attention elsewhere. Jax reacted instinctively, his wraithblade flashing as he plunged it into the creature's back. The blade’s sickly green glow flared as the hobgoblin howled in pain, the bleed property of his seax amplifying the damage.

Jax` opponent however vastly outmatched him, alevel 10 powerhouse, it didn’t fall. It spun around, its bloodshot eyes locking onto Jax with murderous intent. Its massive hand lashed out, fingers like iron clamps gripping for him.

Jax ducked and stepped back, driving a boot into its chest to create distance. The hobgoblin staggered but kept coming, snarling through gritted teeth. Then its hand shot out, catching Jax’s arm in a vice-like grip. Pain shot through him as the creature’s strength crushed his muscles.

"Not today," Jax hissed, his free hand hacking at its arm with the seax. Blood sprayed, but the hobgoblin didn’t release him. Its sheer power was overwhelming, and for a terrifying moment, Jax thought he’d lose the arm entirely.

Then inspiration struck. Curling his fingers, he raked his hand through the blood pooling on his seax and flung it into the creature’s face. The splash blinded it, dark crimson streaking across its eyes. It bellowed in fury, releasing him to claw at its face.

Jax wasted no time, slipping into the shadows behind it. He moved in a blur, cutting along its arms and face with precise, shallow strikes. Each cut added to the confusion, the hobgoblin swinging wildly but hitting nothing.

All the while, Jax pushed his senses outward, probing the spirits around him. The wrongness was stronger now, a swirling, oppressive force that clawed at his focus. He gritted his teeth, letting the hobgoblin’s agonized roars drown out the voices of the trapped souls, but he knew he’d have to deal with it soon.

For now, he focused on wearing the creature down. Every slice and jab weakened it further, blood pooling at its feet. Its movements grew sluggish, and Jax circled it like a predator, waiting for the right moment to strike.