Chapter 45

The eight individuals marched in a single-file line through the dense forest, their footsteps muffled by the thick undergrowth beneath them. Barnes led the way, his posture rigid and alert, every movement calculated as he scanned the surroundings for any signs of danger. Bull followed closely behind him, his massive frame towering over the others, his expression stoic and unreadable.

Hawk, walking with a slight limp, trailed behind Bull, his frustration evident in his grumbling. "Why were we sent out to patrol this godforsaken place again?" he complained, his voice laced with irritation. "Why couldn't it be Conor's group instead?"

Barnes turned sharply, his gaze piercing as he silenced Hawk with a stern reprimand. "Quiet down, will you?" he admonished, his tone firm. "As much as I agree that it's unfair given our circumstances, this just isn't the time or place to complain."

"Oh please," Hawk shook his head in defiance. "Loosen up a little, why don't you," he retorted, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"We've combed through this area countless times before; you don't have to take it so seriously every time, you know?"

Barnes narrowed his eyes at Hawk, but before he could respond, Hawk continued, addressing the rest of the group. "I'm just tired of it always being our group stuck with the tedious patrols," he lamented, his frustration palpable.

"Don't you guys agree?"

The other men exchanged glances, their expressions varying from resignation to doubt. Bull merely snorted the question away, paying no heed to Hawk’s misgivings.

Mouse seemed particularly on edge, his eyes darting nervously from tree to tree as if expecting an ambush at any moment.

Behind him was Rook who seemed to be preoccupied with his own thoughts, uncaring of the tirade stemming from Hawk, the man simply massaged his stomach in a circular motion as if eternally famished.

Sarge, bringing up the rear, remained silent, his gaze fixed on the ground as he trudged along behind the group.

Hawk's frustration grew as he failed to garner support from his comrades. Turning his attention to the two new recruits, John and Alex, he sought validation for his grievances. "Surely you two could agree that this patrol seems stupid, right?" he implored, his tone tinged with exasperation.

"Especially after the attack. I mean, who the hell sends out patrols right after being attacked? I think we should stay in the campsite and wait for reinforcements."

"Oh and by the way, this is exactly what Barnes meant by 'hunting'" Hawk continued, "Hunting for what you might ask? For nothing is what."

Alex exchanged a hesitant glance with John, feeling torn between voicing his agreement and maintaining his place as a newcomer among seasoned soldiers. John remained silent, his expression unreadable as he listened to Hawk's complaints.

Barnes, growing increasingly irritated by the dissent, finally intervened with a sharp command. "Enough!" he barked, his voice cutting through the forest air like a whip.

"If you really want to go back, then shut up and stop wasting time. The faster we finish this, the faster we will return. Understand?"

Hawk begrudgingly acquiesced to Barnes' authority, but not without one final display of defiance. Smacking his lips in annoyance, he fell silent.

Just as the group was about to continue, Barnes noticed Sarge crouched down, his weathered hands tracing the soft earth. "What did you find, old man?" Barnes called out, his voice carrying a note of curiosity.

"Tracks," Sarge replied in his gravelly voice, his gaze fixed on a point beyond the bushes.

Intrigued, Barnes joined Sarge, leaning in to examine the marks etched into the ground. "What is it?" he inquired, but Sarge remained silent, lost in thought.

The rest of the group gathered around, their footsteps crunching softly on the forest floor as they peered at the tracks. At first glance, the marks seemed unremarkable, barely noticeable against the backdrop of fallen leaves and tangled undergrowth.

Hawk, however, seemed to recognize the significance of the tracks almost immediately. With a casual shrug, he spoke up. "It's obviously from a goblin," he stated matter-of-factly, drawing surprised looks from his companions.

"What?" Barnes exclaimed, eyebrows raised in disbelief. Even Sarge, usually stoic and reserved, turned to regard Hawk with a quizzical expression. “Are you sure?”

Hawk rolled his eyes, “Well duhh, I wouldn’t have said anything if it were something else” he scoffed.

Unfazed by their reactions, Hawk elaborated. "Can't you all see that it's obviously a footprint?" he remarked, his tone tinged with mild exasperation. "It leads that way," he added, pointing in the direction Sarge had been studying.

Barnes exchanged a skeptical glance with the others, uncertainty flickering in his eyes as he pondered Hawk's assertion.

Seeing this, Hawk had a discontented frown as he voiced his dissatisfaction.

"Decanus," he interjected, his tone dripping with disdain, "surely you're not thinking of pursuing that thing, right?"

Barnes's gaze flickered to Hawk, a silent exchange passing between them before he glanced at the other members of the patrol. His eyes lingered on the two young recruits, John and Alex, their faces a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.

"Our mission is to patrol the area," Barnes declared, his voice firm with conviction.

"You can't be serious..." Hawk protested, his frustration evident in his voice.

Barnes's jaw tightened slightly, his resolve unyielding. "I'm serious," he replied, meeting Hawk's gaze head-on.

"Go on, lead the way, Hawk."

There was a moment of tense silence between them as the implications of Barnes's decision settled over the group. Hawk's expression hardened, his disappointment palpable.

"The faster we do this, the fast-" Barnes began, but he was cut off by Hawk, who finished the sentence with a grumble.

"The faster we get home, yeah, yeah; I heard you the first time," Hawk muttered, his detachment clear as he turned to lead the way.

With a heavy sigh, Barnes followed behind him causing the others to fall in line just as quickly.

Sarge voiced his curiosity to Hawk. "How many of them do you think there are?"

Hawk who was now cutting down bushes and branches in his way, grumpily answered without missing a beat. "I don't know," he said mid-swing, "judging from the tracks it's just one for now, but surely you know how pesky the mongrels are."

His words dripped with disdain as he continued his task.

Mouse, his tone oddly reminiscent conveyed at the side, “If there’s one, then there is usually more”.

"You heard him," Hawk said, not bothering to hide his impatience. "Don't tell me you haven't hunted down goblins before in all your long years, gramps."

Sarge, unaffected by Hawk's jab, emphasized, "Actively no, I haven't. Most of my years have been spent on the battlefield," he continued casually. "You don't see them on that front."

Hawk seemed uncaring of that information as he continued to lead the way. "Right, well, consider this a learning experience, old man," he mocked in jest.

Then, turning his attention to the two young recruits, John and Alex, he spoke with a hint of warning. "Listen well, you two. Goblins are things you shouldn't underestimate," Hawk paused, his words heavy with unspoken meaning.

"They're far too similar to humans," he said in a dark tone, emphasizing something ominous.

"And for good reason too," he laughed darkly, a sinister edge to his tone. "Wouldn't you think so, Mouse?" he asked, turning to the scrawny man for confirmation. Mouse, however, seemed to deflect the question, staying quiet and avoiding eye contact, causing Alex to feel a sense of unease at the way things were being described.

Even as Hawk's ominous words hung in the air, Alex's reserved tone betrayed his anxiety. "W-what do you mean by that?" he stammered, his eyes darting around the forest, searching for unseen dangers.

Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

Hawk cast a sidelong glance at the young recruit before chuckling. "Oh, you'll soon see... well if we have the chance, that is," he replied cryptically.

Alex's expression dropped at his words, his anxiety rising as he tried to suppress the swirling fear within him.

Barnes, sensing the shift in atmosphere, intervened. "Stop scaring the recruit, you fucker. Just lead the way," he sternly reprimanded Hawk.

Hawk merely scoffed at the warning, his demeanor unapologetic. His confidence seemed unwavering, as if he held some knowledge or experience that set him apart from the others.

On the other hand, John listened intently, his interest piqued by the conversation. Despite his youthful facade, he was no stranger to danger or darkness.

For John, goblins were nothing more than weaklings, insignificant in the face of his training and experience. He had faced countless goblins in the past, dispatching them with ease as part of his training regimen within the Order.

Their threat seemed minimal compared to the greater dangers he had faced in the shadows.

Instead of worrying about them, John had his eyes trailed on Hawk, he felt a need to put more attention on this individual for he had an instinctual feeling that he was playing a game of sorts.

The group continued following the tracks under Hawk's guidance.

…

Hidden amidst the dense foliage, the group observed a scene unfolding before them with keen eyes.

Ahead, in a small clearing, a ragtag group of goblins worked diligently, their small, wiry frames moving with surprising agility as they constructed something out of twigs and gathered resources from the nearby vicinity.

Barnes, his eyes narrowed in concentration, counted the goblins silently, confirming their numbers. "Six of them," he murmured to the rest of the group, his voice barely above a whisper.

Sarge nodded in acknowledgment, his gaze sweeping over the goblins as they worked. "Looks like they're building traps," he observed, noting the way the goblins arranged branches and vines with crude precision.

John, his senses honed by years of training, watched the familiar creatures with mild interest. He analyzed their movements and assessed the little threat they posed in his eyes.

Meanwhile, Alex shifted nervously beside him, his eyes darting between the goblins and his comrades, his apprehension evident in the way he gripped his weapon tightly.

Hawk, ever the cynic, scoffed silently at the sight before them. "Pathetic creatures," he muttered under his breath, his disdain for the goblins clear.

Mouse, his skittish nature momentarily forgotten in the face of the task at hand, watched the goblins with hostility, his fingers twitching precariously at his sides.

Rook, the gluttonous soldier, licked his lips greedily at the thought of potential spoils, his eyes lingering on the supplies the goblins had gathered which included some meat.

And Bull, his frame still towering over the rest of the group, remained silent and watchful, his presence a reassuring presence amidst the tension that hung in the air.

“So, what do you want to do decanus?” Hawk's questioned softly, prompting Barnes to weigh his options silently. The decision weighed heavily on his shoulders, the responsibility of leading the group through this precarious situation resting solely on him.

But Hawk, still keen on returning with haste, tried to persuade Barnes to leave the goblins be. "Honestly, we should report back to the campsite, after all, we already confirmed the source of the tracks" he whispered, his voice laced with urgency. "It's the most logical thing to do."

Barnes nodded in contemplation, seemingly swayed by Hawk's reasoning for the first time. However, before he could voice his agreement, another voice interjected unexpectedly.

"We should kill them," Mouse spoke up, surprising everyone with his sudden assertion. Rook, ever the opportunist, added his support, though his motivations seemed more self-centered than anything.

Barnes glanced at them, uncertainty flickering in his eyes as he sought guidance from Sarge, the seasoned veteran of the group. Sarge's response, however, was cryptic, his gaze lingering on John and Alex as if considering their potential.

"We could train those two," Sarge suggested, his words laden with unspoken implications. Barnes raised an eyebrow at the idea, intrigued but unsure of its feasibility.

He then turned to Bull, seeking his opinion, but the latter merely shrugged in response.

Barnes contemplated the options, his mind racing as he considered the potential risks and rewards of each course of action. Finally, he voiced a question to the group, his voice carrying across the clearing.

"Chances of reinforcements?" he asked, his gaze flickering towards the goblins, silently insinuating his concerns about their numbers.

Mouse, surprisingly knowledgeable about goblin behavior, interjected once more. "Highly unlikely," he asserted confidently, drawing the attention of the group. Barnes looked at him with confusion.

"Why?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.

Mouse proved his point by pointing towards the goblins, specifically at the two busy building traps.

"They're hunting, which means they're likely far away from their settlement," Mouse explained convincingly. Barnes listened intently, nodding in acknowledgment of his insight.

For a final reassurance, Barnes glanced back at Hawk.

Hawk, feeling the weight of his gaze, let out a resigned sigh, confirming Mouse's words with a reluctant admission. "Yes," he conceded, "there's some truth to his words."

With the situation much clearer to him, Barnes finally issued an order, “Subdue two, kill the rest.”

Emboldened by Barnes's words, Mouse wasted no time in springing into action. With a sudden burst of speed, he dashed out from his vantage spot, his movements quick and agile as he made his way towards the unsuspecting goblins.

"Wait!" Barnes called out, his voice tinged with urgency, but Mouse paid him no heed, his hostile determination driving him forward.

Frustrated by Mouse's impulsive actions, Barnes swiftly issued commands to the rest of the group.

"Bull, charge after him," he instructed, his voice carrying weight across the clearing. Without hesitation, the massive form of Bull surged forward, his muscles rippling beneath his armor as he thundered towards Mouse's shadow.

"Sarge, Rook, take one each," Barnes continued, assigning targets to the veteran soldiers. With practiced ease, Sarge and Rook moved into action, their weapons at the ready as they rushed ahead to engage the goblins.

"Alex and John, stay here," Barnes directed, his gaze lingering on the young recruits. Sensing their apprehension, he offered them a reassuring nod before turning his attention to Hawk.

"Hawk, look after them," he commanded, trusting the seasoned soldier to keep watch over the two inexperienced recruits while the rest of the group dealt with the goblins.

With his commands issued, Barnes wasted no time in joining the fray, his boots pounding against the forest floor as he chased after the others.

..

Mouse charged towards the goblins, his sudden movement caught their attention like a spark igniting a powder keg. The goblins, initially bewildered by the sudden commotion, soon realized the source of the disturbance as Mouse came into view, his sword raised high and gleaming in the dappled light of the forest.

With guttural cries and brandishing their crude weapons, the goblins reacted with primal instinct, their fear giving way to aggression as they prepared to defend themselves against the oncoming threat.

Undeterred by the goblins' frantic gestures and shouts, Mouse continued his relentless charge, his eyes fixed on his target. Within moments, he found himself mere meters away from a skinny goblin, its small sword raised against him in a feeble attempt at defence.

With fury burning in his eyes, Mouse unleashed a vicious running slash, aiming to cleave his foe in two. But in his haste, he misjudged the distance, the blade of his sword landing not on the goblin's body but on its raised hand, which gripped the short sword tightly.

The goblin let out a piercing shriek of agony as Mouse's sword embedded itself into its wrist bone, crimson blood spraying from the wound in a gruesome arc. Undeterred by the unexpected turn of events, Mouse attempted to pry his sword free from the goblin's grasp, but it was firmly lodged in the bone, refusing to budge.

With a snarl of frustration, Mouse released his grip on the sword, instead opting to wrestle the goblin to the ground. With swift, brutal punches fueled by pure wrath, he began to rain blows upon the creature's head, each strike accompanied by sickening thuds as bone met flesh.

Blood spattered in all directions as Mouse's onslaught continued, the goblin's cries of pain drowned out by the sounds of the forest and the ferocity of Mouse's attack.

As Mouse's brutal assault continued, his vision clouded by the fury of battle, he failed to notice an approaching goblin, its shortsword raised high in a desperate bid for vengeance. With frantic cries of battle ringing in its ears, the goblin leapt forward, its blade spiraling downward toward Mouse's exposed neck with lethal intent.

But just as the attack seemed destined to find its mark, a deep, primal roar reverberated through the clearing, drowning out the goblin's cries. With lightning speed, Bull, the towering behemoth of a soldier, charged forward, his massive frame colliding with the goblin in mid-air with bone-crushing force.

The goblin's figure contorted in agony as Bull's shoulder bashed into its chest, sending it hurtling through the air like a ragdoll. With a sickening thud, the goblin crashed into a nearby tree, the impact rattling the branches and shaking loose a shower of leaves.

But Bull was not finished with his prey. With a fierce determination, he closed the distance between himself and the fallen goblin in an instant, his heavy boots stomping down on its head with brutal force. The sound of bone crunching beneath his weight echoed through the clearing as the goblin's skull collapsed under the ferocity of Bull's attack, its features contorted in a grotesque mask of agony.

As the life drained from the crushed creature, Bull turned his attention to another approaching goblin, its eyes wide with terror at the sight of the hulking soldier. With a speed that belied his size, Bull lunged forward, his massive hands wrapping around the goblin's frail form with ease.

With a swift, decisive motion, he pinned the struggling creature to the ground, his strength overpowering its feeble attempts at resistance. The goblin's cries for mercy were drowned out by the sounds of battle raging around them, its fate sealed by the merciless grip of Bull's iron grasp.

Equally, Sarge, Rook, and Barnes descended upon the scene with grim determination, each taking a target of their own as they matched Bull's brutal efficiency in dispatching the goblins.

Sarge moved with calm indifference amidst the skirmish. Equipped with a simple sword and shield, he faced off against a goblin with steely resolve.

With practiced precision, Sarge deflected a clumsy sword strike from his foe before delivering a swift, decisive blow. With a clean slash of his sword, he cleanly decapitated the goblin, its head rolling to the ground in a macabre display of carnage punctuated only by a fountain of blood.

Meanwhile, Rook crashed into another goblin with a thunderous shield bash, the force of his blow sending the creature tumbling to the ground in a heap. Desperately, the goblin tried to slash at Rook from its prone position, but Rook simply sidestepped the attack with ease.

Then with calculated precision, he kicked the goblin's hand, sending its sword clattering to the ground. With the creature now pinned beneath his boot, Rook impaled it through the chest with his sword, silencing its cries in a swift, brutal stroke.

Not to be outdone, Barnes showcased his physical prowess with a display of raw strength and agility. With a single, fluid motion, he delivered a powerful roundhouse kick to the head of another goblin, the force of the blow knocking it out cold before it even had a chance to react.

The goblin crumpled to the ground, unconscious and defeated, as Barnes stood over it.

With the last of the goblins vanquished, the clearing fell eerily silent, save for the exaggerated breaths of Mouse as he continued to pummel the same bloody goblin on the dirtied ground. The creature's cries had long since ceased, drowned out by the sickening sound of bones meeting mush beneath his relentless assault.

His face was now splattered with the blood of his fallen foe, his armoured hands drenched in crimson, his overall attire equally so with bits and pieces of flesh clinging onto him like an eerie embellishment.