The banner was heavier than he’d anticipated. Its pole was splintered wood, wrapped in layers of iron at the joints, and it seemed to draw heat from the sweltering jungle air. Garrick adjusted his grip, the fabric of the banner clinging to his sweat-soaked gloves. He cursed under his breath, the weight of both the banner and his plate armor pressing down on his shoulders like an anvil.

It was always hot in the jungle, even in the sparsely vegetated stretches where the sun beat down mercilessly. The scattered patches of dry shrubs and brittle grass offered little shade, and the ground beneath his boots alternated between cracked earth and patches of deceptively soft mud that could suck a man’s foot under if he wasn’t careful. The soldiers trudged along in loose formation, their polished armor glinting like beacons under the harsh light.

The mosquitoes were the worst. A constant, whining cloud of them hovered around the group, darting past helmets and plate gaps to bite any exposed skin. Garrick slapped at his neck in irritation, his gauntlet leaving a streak of crushed insect and blood. He gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the heat, the bugs, and the discomfort of his armor.

Lord Fanfaron rode at the head of the column, his pristine plate polished to a mirror finish and his horse strutting as if it were on parade. Garrick watched the man with a mixture of envy and disdain. The noble was smug and self-assured, often pausing to extol his plans for glory and recount tales of imagined valor to the knights riding at his sides. His voice was like the braying of a donkey, rising above the hum of the jungle.

“The court will speak of this expedition for decades!” Fanfaron exclaimed, his voice carrying back to the foot soldiers. “The goblins will scatter, and their lizard pets will cower at my blade! I’ll have their hides flayed and presented to the duke himself.”

Garrick resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The men around him were less discreet, muttering curses and complaints about the noble’s endless thirst for self-praise. Fanfaron, oblivious to the grumbles of his underlings, raised his chin and spurred his horse onward, his spirits buoyed by the extra water rations his men had been forced to give up for his comfort.

The column pressed on, but progress was slow. The jungle was full of obstacles. Pit traps, crude mud slicks, and snares had claimed several men already, their shouts of alarm and pain punctuating the otherwise monotonous march. Some traps were so crude they seemed laughable, yet others were terrifyingly effective. Garrick had seen a man snared by a hidden noose, the rope tightening around his ankle and hoisting him into the air before he could react. By the time they cut him down, his leg was broken, and he had to be sent back to camp.

The worst were the sound traps. Hollowed logs or carefully strung lines of vines would emit eerie, hollow notes when triggered, echoing through the jungle like ghostly wails. Garrick couldn’t shake the feeling that the goblins were using them to track their movements. The eerie cries followed them wherever they went, heightening the sense of being watched.

The soldiers were on edge, their movements growing more erratic as the traps slowed their progress. They began to mutter superstitions about goblin shamans and lizard gods, their nerves fraying with each passing hour. Yet Fanfaron only seemed emboldened, declaring the traps proof of a nearby stronghold and imagining the accolades he would receive when he crushed it.

By nightfall on the second day, the expedition was exhausted. The soldiers set up camp in a small clearing, their tents clustered together as the men gathered around weak campfires. Garrick dropped the banner pole and collapsed onto a log, too tired to care about the mosquitoes that swarmed his face. He chewed on a piece of hardtack, the dry biscuit crumbling like ash in his mouth.

He thought about home—a simple cottage far from the borderlands, where the jungle’s heat and horrors were little more than stories. He dreamed of cool breezes and fresh bread, a life without nobles or banners. But that life was far away, and tonight, his reality was the stifling heat and the omnipresent hum of insects.

The camp was quiet when he drifted into an uneasy sleep. Then the screaming started.

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Jannet crouched low in the underbrush, his obsidian-black scales blending seamlessly with the shadows. Around him, the group waited in silence, their patience as reptilian as their forms. Rose crouched on his right, her eyes locked on the humans’ camp with predatory focus. On his left, #1 loomed like a coiled spring, his massive frame tense and ready to strike.

The traps had worked beautifully. The sound snares had kept the humans on edge, their movements predictable as they avoided pits and mud slicks. The spike traps had claimed several victims already, their cries of pain and fear echoing through the jungle. But tonight wasn’t about traps—it was about sending a message.

Jannet’s tail flicked once, a silent signal to the others. The group moved as one, their movements fluid and synchronized. Baby Goblin and Lil Guy were stationed further back, their mud-covered slingshots loaded with venom-laced shrapnel. Randel had meticulously prepared the projectiles, ensuring they would inflict maximum pain and infection.

Jannet’s heart thrummed with anticipation as he watched the humans shift their guards. The campfires cast flickering shadows across the clearing, illuminating the men’s tired faces. They were vulnerable, their focus dulled by the heat and exhaustion. It was time.

The attack began with a blur of motion. Jannet surged forward, his powerful legs propelling him across the open ground in a flash. His jaws clamped onto the nearest guard, his Primordial Bite sinking deep into the man’s shoulder. The venom worked quickly, the man’s screams cutting off as his muscles seized.

System Notification:

"Congratulations! Your party has defeated a Level 25 Human Soldier.

Rewards:

* Experience Gained: 650 EXP shared among party members.

The familiar system chime was annoying right now and jannet pushes it out of the forefront of his mind.

Rose followed suit, her massive form striking with lethal precision. She knocked a knight off his feet, her claws raking across his exposed throat. #1 roared as he barreled into the camp, his sheer size and strength sending men scattering like leaves in a storm.

The humans were unprepared for the ferocity of the attack. They scrambled to grab weapons and shields, their shouts of alarm mingling with the guttural hisses of the lizards. Jannet moved with deadly efficiency, his claws rending armor and flesh as he tore through the camp. But the humans were many, and they were armed.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

A flash of light caught Jannet’s eye, and he turned just in time to see a fireball hurtling toward him. The impact was like a hammer blow, searing heat washing over him as the spell detonated. His health bar plummeted, the numbers ticking down alarmingly fast. Pain wracked his body, but he pushed through it, his instincts screaming at him to fight.

* Health (HP): 500/640

* Health (HP): 410/640

* Health (HP): 240/640

He barely had time to recover before a piercing scream tore through the chaos. Jannet turned to see #1 staggering, blood gushing from a severed arm. The man who had struck him sat astride a horse, his halberd dripping with gore. Jannet’s vision blurred with rage as he lunged toward the knight, but Rose was faster. She leapt onto the horse, her powerful jaws crushing its throat and sending the knight tumbling to the ground.

“Retreat!” Jannet screamed through memetics, his tail lashing as he issued the command. The group began to pull back, their movements calculated even in the chaos. Jannet swung his tail into one of the campfires, scattering embers and flames into the tents. The distraction gave them the cover they needed to escape.

* Health (HP): 220/640

Jannet fled into the jungle, his sides heaving with exertion. Behind him, he could hear the shouts of pursuit, the humans crashing through the underbrush in a desperate attempt to catch them. The traps worked as intended; the sound of bodies falling into spiked pits brought a grim satisfaction, but more humans pressed on.

Rounding a dense thicket, Jannet saw Baby Goblin and Lil Guy waiting with their slingshot. Baby Goblin let out an excited squeal as he aimed, releasing a volley of venom-laced shrapnel. The projectiles struck the pursuers with brutal efficiency, the sharp sticks embedding in flesh as the venom took hold.

“Run!” Jannet hissed memetically, urging the group to keep moving. They disappeared into the night, their figures swallowed by the jungle’s shadows.

----------------------------------------

After some time the group regathered and the trek back to the den was silent, save for the labored breathing of the injured. Jannet felt the heat of his wounds with every step, his vision blurring occasionally from the pain and exertion. His health bar lingered at a dangerous low, its red glow pulsing like a warning beacon in the corners of his mind. Yet he pushed on, the weight of leadership and survival anchoring him against the overwhelming fatigue.

Behind him, #1 limped awkwardly, his balance uneven without his severed limb. Rose stayed close to him, her own flank streaked with blood from shallow cuts. The others followed in a tight formation, Baby Goblin clutching tightly to Lil Guy’s side, his tiny form quivering with fear but his eyes darting alertly to the shadows around them. The jungle seemed quieter than usual, the distant chirps and rustles muffled as though the world held its breath.

The moment the group crossed the threshold of the den, tension exploded into frantic energy. Randel scrambled to retrieve moss and herbs from their storage nook, while Lil Guy guided Baby Goblin to the safety of the rear chamber. Rose hissed low and guttural, a sound of reassurance and command as she nudged #1 toward the largest resting alcove. Jannet collapsed near the fire pit, his body finally giving in to the strain.

It was only then that the system intruded on his consciousness, its bright notifications flooding his mind.

----------------------------------------

System Notifications:

CONGRATULATIONS! LEVEL UP!

LEVEL 1 → LEVEL 7

LEVEL 7 → LEVEL 12

Jannet blinked at the glowing text, his lizard brain sluggishly registering the milestone. Twleve levels in one night. It would have thrilled him once, the promise of power and growth tangible in his mind. Now, it felt hollow. What good were levels when the group was battered, their strongest member maimed?

He pushed the system aside, focusing instead on #1’s wound. The stump of his foreleg had already stopped bleeding, the edges hardened in a way that Jannet hadn’t expected. His reptilian instincts whispered something odd—limbs regrew. Was that a feature of the system, or just a quirk of their biology?

“Regrowth…” Jannet muttered to himself, the thought sparking a sliver of hope. If #1 could heal fully, he wouldn’t be out of the fight for long. But it wouldn’t happen overnight, and they couldn’t afford to wait. Not with the humans likely regrouping by dawn.

Once the initial panic subsided, the den grew quiet. Randel and Baby Goblin huddled in a corner, the little goblin watching intently as the lizard attempted crafting something intricate from vines and sticks. Rose stood sentinel near the entrance, her massive frame tense but steady. Jannet lay sprawled near the fire, his mind racing as he formulated their next move.

Phase two would have to be decisive. The humans were likely in disarray after the night’s attack, their morale shaken and their forces spread thin by injuries and fear. But they would regroup. They always did. If Jannet had learned one thing from his previous life, it was that humans were tenacious creatures, driven by pride and ambition.

He flicked his tail, summoning the others. The group gathered around the fire pit, their shadows dancing on the dirt walls. Even #1, despite his injury, dragged himself into the circle, his eyes sharp and unwavering.

“We’ll rest tonight,” Jannet conveyed through memetic nudges, the resonance carrying a mix of determination and urgency. “Heal where we can. But tomorrow… tomorrow, we strike again.”

The plan unfolded in Jannet’s mind as he shared it with the group. Phase two would be a continuation of their guerrilla tactics, but with a twist. They wouldn't let the humans regroup and return. This time they would attack them while they are weak.

As the fire crackled softly, the group settled into a wary rest. Randel worked tirelessly to bind #1’s stump with moss and resin, his nimble claws moving with practiced precision. Baby Goblin hovered nearby, offering small pieces of vine or stone when prompted, his wide eyes filled with a mixture of fear and determination.

Rose cleaned her wounds with slow, deliberate motions, her tongue rasping over the gashes on her flank. Her golden eyes flicked toward Jannet occasionally, a silent reassurance that she was ready for whatever came next.

Jannet himself remained by the fire, his mind restless despite his body’s exhaustion. He couldn’t stop replaying the battle in his head—the fireball that had seared his scales, the halberd that had severed #1’s arm, the humans’ sheer numbers and the cold, calculated way they had fought. They weren’t just a random group of hunters. This was a force with resources, discipline, and a clear goal war like Jannet had predicted men were always the same seeking escalation.

“Horse guy,” Jannet thought bitterly, the name dripping with disdain. The man’s clear arrogance would be his downfall, but only if Jannet played this right.

Morning came with a soft glow filtering through the den’s skylights, the light diffused by the leafy grates Jannet had crafted long ago. The group stirred slowly, their movements cautious but deliberate. Despite the night’s rest, tension hung heavy in the air. They all knew what was coming.

Jannet stood in the center of the den, his obsidian scales gleaming faintly in the soft light. He glanced at each member of the group, his golden eyes conveying a silent command. They were ready, even if #1 would sit out this phase of the fight.

“Stay here,” Jannet nudged to #1 through memetics, his tone firm but understanding. “You’ll be our last line if they reach the den.”

The others nodded in agreement, their resolve clear. Lil Guy and Baby Goblin took their positions near the traps at the outer perimeter, while Rose and Randel prepared to lead the initial skirmishes. Jannet himself would be the lure, hopefully drawing the disordered humans into the densest part of the jungle where their traps would do the most damage.

As the group moved out, Jannet felt a strange calm settle over him. The pain of his wounds faded to the background, replaced by the clarity of purpose. This was their home. The humans had no right to it, and Jannet would make them pay for every step they took into his territory.

Little did the Humans on that expedition know the battle for the jungle had only just begun.