In a small clearing within a forest, a familiar party of four were gathered around a fire. A young warrior was busy organizing an array of debuff potions and attack consumables he had acquired for combat.

An archer diligently carved and tapered the wooden shafts of arrows, affixing stone tips to each one. A redheaded mage—the sole member of the group who was simply lounging around—cast impatient glances at the healer who was busy stirring a pot of stew.

Using a large ladle, and being extra careful not to stain her white garment, the girl gingerly portioned the hearty meal into a bowl and passed it to her companion.

“Be careful,” she cautioned, her smile shy and sincere. “It’s still very hot.”

The mage extended both hands to accept, but a misplaced finger ended up making contact with the piping hot gravy. “Ouch!” she exclaimed, fumbling with the bowl. She managed to save it from falling, but not without spilling several droplets onto the girl’s clothes. “Oh god, I’m so sorry.”

The healer raised both her hands dismissively, pretending that she didn’t notice the girl’s sly smile. “I-It’s fine,” she said. “It was just an accident. More importantly, how’s your finger? Do you require healing?”

For but a fleeting moment, the mage’s expression contorted in disgust at the mere thought of receiving treatment from the girl. “I’m fine,” she reassured, exerting the bare minimum of effort to conceal her contempt. “I was just surprised, is all.”

As the healer portioned the stew for the others, the mage tentatively took a bite and immediately recoiled at the foul taste. Despite her initial annoyance, a mischievous smile soon crept onto her lips at the thought of how the warrior would react—

CRASH!

The youth furiously hurled the bowl to the ground, sending a splatter of meat, vegetables, and hot gravy coating the green grass. “What the hell did you just try to make me eat?” he snapped, spitting out the offending morsel from his mouth.

“I-I’m sorry,” the healer let out a frightened peep.

The youth’s hand struck out, sending her crashing to the ground with a reddened cheek. “Sorry? Is that all you can say? Do you think your worthless apology’s going to salvage all this wasted food?”

The archer observed without a word.

The journey of an adventurer was a treacherous path, fraught with the shadows of death and the specter of uncertainty. In a world as ruthless and indifferent as the one they traversed, Price—a cowardly warrior—sought refuge in asserting dominance over those he deemed weaker. This illusion of absolute control became his sanctuary, a seductive elixir that made him feel invincible and alive in an otherwise overwhelming world.

Likewise, the mage Lilith found herself entangled in the same cycle of abusive behavior, driven by the fear of becoming the next victim herself.

“Why exactly does the food taste like cardboard?” Price demanded, looming over the quivering healer like an enraged minotaur.

Amara kept her gaze down in fear of being struck again. “…Y-You used all our funds to buy the debuff potions,” she admitted sheepishly, “so we didn’t have enough to buy any seasonings for cooking.”

Price’s countenance remained steadfast, devoid of even a hint of shame or regret. In his own perception, he stood as a god among them; he hadn’t the capacity to make mistakes.

Before he could deliver another backhanded blow to the sniveling girl for an error he himself had made, a distant rustling caught his attention, diverting his focus to more pressing concerns.

“Monsters,” the archer was able to deduce with a keen sense of sight and smell.

Everyone ducked down and clutched their weapons in response.

TTTCHHH~

Swiftly, Price overturned the remnants of the stew onto the fire, extinguishing the flames in a sizzle of steam. For a fleeting moment, he found a grim satisfaction in repurposing the bland meal. However, his heart sank as the pungent aroma began to permeate the air, threatening to betray their concealed location.

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While the rest of the party concealed themselves in the brush, the archer, Morgana, skillfully ascended a nearby tree to gain a vantage point.

From her lofty perch amidst the thick foliage, she observed a procession of goblins moving through the forest below. Oblivious to their surroundings, they appeared singularly focused on their mission: transporting a haul of game and larger prey back to their lair.

Upon descending the tree, Lilith inquired eagerly, “What did you see?”

“A group of goblins. They’re… transporting the monsters they hunted.”

“Transporting?” Price interjected, his brow furrowing in confusion. “That’s peculiar.”

“How so?” Lilith inquired.

“Goblins typically refrain from transporting food back to their lair, fearing that they may attract predators,” Morgana took the initiative to explain.

Amara pursed her lips, careful not to speak out of turn.

“Do you think they’re the same goblins we’re after?” asked Lilith.

“The village is pretty nearby,” said Morgana, “so there’s a high possibility that’s the case.”

“Does it really matter?” Price countered, his expression clouded with bitterness. “All monsters deserve to die.”

It does matter, Amara argued mentally with a train of thought she dared not voice aloud. We’re only equipped with limited resources for this assignment, and our funds are low. If we act recklessly and fail to complete this job…

Price cast an unfriendly glance in her direction, as if he could discern her thoughts. However, in reality, he was simply reaching for the map protruding from the large pack she was burdened with carrying.

“To avoid raising any alarms, we’ll give the goblins a head start before we begin tracking them,” Price announced, his gaze shifting from the map to Morgana with a meaningful look. “At the same time, we’ll navigate to the village and see if the destination aligns.”

Everyone nodded in confirmation.

***

Despite her limited experience as a tracker, Morgana found it relatively easy to discern the telltale signs left behind by the goblins. The undergrowth was disturbed, footprints and broken branches littered the path, and the unmistakable trail of fresh blood from the hunted monsters further confirmed their direction.

As Morgana withdrew her hand from the small footprint embedded in the forest floor, she noted its size and depth. The impression suggested that its owner was burdened by the weight of the heavy bounty it carried.

“There’s no doubt about it,” she confirmed while maintaining her crouched position. “They’ve definitely made their way into the village.”

A few feet ahead, Lilith and Price knelt behind the cover of thick bushes. They diverted their gazes from the convinced archer and toward the village gates looming just beyond the edge of the forest.

“Do you see anything?” Morgana inquired, her voice hushed.

Price peered from the concealing embrace of the brush and into the village through its open gates. “Nothing. There are no signs of people or the goblins.”

“They could be hiding inside of the houses,” Lilith suggested. “That tryhard at the guild did mention how crafty goblins can be.”

Price’s frown deepened. “True, but I doubt they’re that cunning. Morgana, come take a look. Your senses are sharper; you might pick up on something.”

“Stay put,” Morgana directed Amara with a slurred voice.

The girl nodded meekly.

Morgana gingerly made her way between the warrior and mage, her sharp eyes scanning the village from their constrained vantage point. “The immediate rooftops and the wall beyond the gate are clear. It’s eerily silent, too. Maybe the goblins simply made their way through the village?”

“A-According to the map,” Amara interjected nervously, “there’s a mountain just beyond the village. And, um, goblins are known for their ability to see in the dark. Maybe they’re living inside that cave.”

Lilith leered at the girl, irritated that her analogy made any kind of sense. She was even more annoyed when Price readily shoved aside his abusive and chauvinistic tendencies and embraced the notion. Without delay, he sprang into action.

“I think a minor irregularity is making us overly cautious about the goblins,” he remarked as he rested his hand on the hilt of his sword. “Let’s proceed into the village with the usual battle formation.”

Everyone exchanged nervous glances before nodding in agreement.

It was only upon entering the village that everyone grasped the unsettling extent of the eerie silence Morgana had mentioned earlier. The doors and windows of the houses stood wide open, revealing an unsettling emptiness within. In one home, a table remained set with food for four, untouched and abandoned.

The typical signs of a monster raid were nonexistent. There was no trace of blood, corpses, or destruction anywhere to be found. It was as if all the residents had been spirited away without a trace.

Price cautiously ventured deeper into the settlement, his sword stance awkward and unthreatening. The mage followed closely behind, trailed by the healer and archer, all equally unsettled by the ominous atmosphere that enveloped the deserted village.

“Hey, guys,” Morgana called out, the urgency in her tone commanding immediate attention.

The party swiftly converged on her location, where they observed Morgana crouched over a patch of ground. With a light touch, she began brushing away the surface layer of dirt, gradually revealing streaks and splotches of blood.

A collective gasp escaped their lips as everyone’s faces contorted in horror. Something sinister had unfolded in this village. As their gazes flitted around, it became painfully clear that there were subtle but unmistakable signs of an invasion and a slaughter, followed by a meticulous cover-up.

But why?

Before the party could voice their concerns or even attempt to flee, they were suddenly ambushed by a large group of goblins emerging from the most unconventional of hiding places.