Chapter 51

The night wrapped around them like a shroud as John followed Barnes’ group through the maze of tents. The surrounding camp was alive with the muted sounds of soldiers preparing for another day—armor clinking, hushed voices exchanging final instructions, and the distant flicker of torches casting long shadows across the ground. John moved silently with the group, his steps light and deliberate, his mind at ease yet focused on the task ahead.

As they neared the rendezvous point, John’s eyes caught a group of men waiting in the clearing. There were at most fifteen of them, standing in tight formation, their presence unmistakably commanding. He had assumed that they were from the Faelius Hounds, veterans who bore the wear and tear of countless battles, their armor scuffed yet maintained, their faces hard and unreadable. Even from a distance, John could sense their experience and their readiness for whatever lay ahead.

Yet as he scanned the faces and postures of these men, John wasn’t surprised to find that Centurion Marcus wasn’t among them. It would have been strange if he had been, too easy even. Marcus, after all, was the leader of the entire contingent of Faelius Hounds sent to reinforce the camp—a force far larger than this small detachment.

John had expected as much. Someone of Marcus’ rank wouldn’t be leading such a small group on a reconnaissance mission. No, Marcus would be with the main force, likely coordinating the broader strategy. This was a fact that he had already accounted for.

“Patience”, he reminded himself. “Things are rarely straightforward. The opportunity will present itself in due time.” 621 wasn’t the kind to rush; he knew better than to expect an easy target. His mission was one of precision, not haste.

As the two groups met, Barnes stepped forward, his posture confident, but with a respect that came from knowing the reputation of the Faelius Hounds. The leader of the other group, a rough-looking man, moved to greet him. He was a rough-looking man, his face marked by scars, each one likely telling a story of past battles. His armour, though worn, was meticulously kept clean—a clear sign of discipline.

“Barnes,” The man greeted, his voice deep and steady. “I’ve heard about your group. Your discovery of those goblin tracks puts us a step ahead.”

Barnes nodded, his own voice calm and respectful. “Legionnaire Tiber, it’s good to finally meet you in person. I was briefed earlier on your arrival.”

Another person stepped forward as well. He was a lean man, his sharp eyes scanning Barnes’ group with a calculating gaze. “My name’s Kael, the assigned quartermaster of this group, I’m here to ensure this mission goes smoothly,” Kael said, his tone matter-of-fact.

“The Byzantines are a constant threat, and we can’t afford to be caught off guard. Our goal is to locate and eliminate the goblin settlement before they can cause any trouble.”

John listened closely, his attention focused on every word. The tension in the air was palpable, but he remained composed, his mind already working through the implications of the mission. The goblins were a danger, certainly, but he was aware that the real threat lay in the Byzantine forces lurking in the region.

Tiber turned to address Barnes’ group directly. “We’ll be moving under the cover of darkness. Silence is paramount. The Byzantines have scouts everywhere, and if they catch wind of our movements, we’re finished.”

Barnes nodded, turning to his men. “You heard the man. Keep it quiet and stick together. We’ve got the advantage of surprise, and we intend to keep it that way.”

John absorbed the man’s instructions, silence was something he excelled at, a skill honed over years of training, to him this was just another day. The night, with all its dangers, was his domain.

Yet, even as he prepared himself for the mission, a small part of his mind remained focused on Marcus. The Centurion was the real target, the man whose death would fulfill John’s mission.

But tonight wasn’t the night for that. He knew better than to rush. He would wait, bide his time, and strike when the moment was right.

Beside him, Alex shifted nervously, the young recruit clearly anxious about what lay ahead. John glanced at him, offering a brief nod. “Remember” he whispered, his voice calm and steady.

“Confidence.”

Alex nodded, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and determination. “I’ll follow your lead.”

John was kept amused by his interactions with Alex, truth be told he wanted to use this type of interaction for his own personal experience. Afterall, he was new to this type of ‘relationship’ and he figured it was worthwhile to realise what it meant to be ‘human’ in the perspective of his targets.

The camp was behind them now, the sounds of preparation fading as they moved deeper into the night. The group from the Faelius Hounds led the way under the guidance of Hawk, their steps nearly silent, their presence formidable. The rest followed, every man alert, every breath measured.

As they ventured into the darkness, John briefly glanced back as his thoughts returned to Marcus. “Not tonight, but soon”, he thought. “Your time will come.”

...

The night was thick with a heavy mist that clung to the forest, shrouding everything in a cold, damp veil. The moonlight struggled to penetrate the dense canopy above, casting eerie, shifting shadows across the ground. The only sounds were the soft rustling of leaves underfoot and the occasional distant hoot of an owl. The combined group of soldiers moved in near silence, their footsteps muted, their breathing controlled.

John moved with the group, his senses heightened. He could feel the tension in the air, the weight of the mission pressing down on everyone. This wasn’t just a routine patrol; they were deep in enemy territory now, where one wrong move could spell disaster. Every man knew it, and the air was thick with anticipation.

At the front, Hawk, his face barely visible in the dim light, raised a hand to signal the group. “Over there is the killzone…” Hawk whispered, pointing into the looming darkness ahead. His voice was barely audible, a soft murmur that blended with the night.

John’s eyes followed Hawk’s gesture, peering through the mist. The killzone was where they had encountered the pack of goblins the previous day. They had fought hard, dispatching the creatures before retreating.

Barnes had made the call to burn the bodies in a heap before they pulled back, ensuring there would be no trace left for others to find—or so they had thought.

The group advanced slowly creeping along the sidelines, weapons at the ready, as they approached the site of the battle. The stench of charred flesh still hung in the air, a nauseating reminder of the previous night’s violence. The burnt remains of the goblins should have been there, reduced to little more than blackened bones and ashes. But as they drew closer, John’s sharp eyes noticed something was off.

The heap was disturbed.

The ashes and bones were scattered, as if something—or someone—had been there after they left. The pile was no longer intact; it looked as if it had been searched through, the remains sifted and spread out. A faint trail of smeared ash led away from the heap, disappearing into the thick underbrush.

John’s instincts flared. “That’s not right...” he thought internally. His picturesque and meticulous mind had memorized every detail the previous day thus he knew something was amiss.

Whatever had disturbed the bodies hadn’t been an animal scavenger—it was too deliberate, too methodical. Someone had been here, perhaps searching for something. He scanned the surrounding area, his eyes narrowed as he tried to pierce the darkness.

John looked around and realised that only he had noticed the disturbance.

Ahead of them, Tiber raised a hand, signaling for the group to halt. His expression, barely visible in the moonlight, was one of concern mixed with a deep-seated wariness. Behind him stood Kael, his sharp eyes already scanning the surroundings with a calculating gaze.

Stolen novel; please report.

Tiber turned to everyone; his voice low but authoritative. “Move forward, but with extreme caution. We haven’t encountered anything suspicious yet but don’t be fooled, anything could go wrong anytime, understand?”

Barnes acknowledged the command with a nod, his eyes flicking over his men, ensuring they understood the gravity of the situation. “You heard him. Keep it tight and quiet.”

John shook his head at the statement, he chose to keep quiet about the disturbance to the heap of burnt ashes, in truth he had no real obligation to warn the group and he feared he may reveal too much of his unspoken abilities.

He continued to observe quietly as the group passed the area. He noticed Alex, who was walking beside him, glancing around nervously.

“What’s wrong?” Alex asked in a hushed tone, his eyes darting between the darkened forest and John.

John shook his head slightly, his expression impassive. “Nothing to worry about. Just keep moving.”

Alex looked uncertain but didn’t push the matter.

As they moved out, John’s attention was momentarily caught by a movement to his side. He turned to see a large, muscular hound silently padding through the group. The animal was nearly as tall as his waist, with a thick, dark coat and piercing yellow eyes that glinted in the dim light. The hound moved with a quiet grace, its ears perked and nose to the ground, clearly trained for a specific kind of work.

John hadn’t noticed the hound before, and its presence was a surprise. It had been introduced to the group just as they were exiting the camp, a last-minute addition from the Faelius Hounds. Tiber had mentioned that the dog was a tracker, trained to hunt and flush out enemies. It moved silently, almost like a shadow, its instincts sharp and its senses keen.

The hound paused by him, sniffing the air, before moving forward to stay close to Tiber. It was clear that this animal was an integral part of their operation, and John even wondered if the name ‘Faelius Hounds’ was coined after their use of actual hounds.

..

The group had moved beyond the disturbed killzone and deeper into the unknown, their objective still uncertain. But there was a plan—a risky one.

John’s eyes flickered towards the center of their formation, where a small, hunched figure was being forced forward. The goblin. It was the same one they had captured the previous day, its wiry frame shivered under the tight bindings that held its arms. A ragged cloth was wrapped around its mouth, muffling any sound it made. The soldiers flanked it, their weapons at the ready, their eyes constantly scanning the surroundings for any sign of danger.

Beside the goblin, Kael, the quartermaster walked with a cautious look. His hand was wrapped tightly around a short, wicked-looking blade, and his eyes were fixed on the creature with cold intent. The goblin’s yellow eyes darted around, wild and fearful, as it stumbled along the path, clearly aware of its fate.

Tiber finally stopped, signaling the entire group to halt. The soldiers immediately crouched down, blending into the shadows. “This should be good enough,” the man muttered silently before he gave a direct gesture to Kael.

In response, the goblin was yanked forward, its fear palpable as it was brought to the front of the entourage. It struggled desperately, letting out a muffled whine, its eyes filled with panic.

With a swift, practiced motion, Kael followed and cut a shallow wound across the goblin’s leg. The creature yelped in pain, its eyes widening in terror, but it was a controlled wound, not meant to be fatal. Just enough to make it bleed. Enough for the hound to track it.

John watched this play out with a curious light in his eyes, he had a rough idea of the plan in motion but no matter how he looked at it; he had a bad feeling that something bad might happen.

The hound, which had now shifted towards Tiber’s side, immediately perked up in response to the scent of blood, its nose twitched as if acknowledging the familiar smell.

Kael gave a nod to one of the men, who roughly cut the bindings from the goblin’s arms and yanked the cloth from its mouth. The creature immediately snarled, baring its sharp teeth, but it was too terrified to make any sudden moves. Instead, it looked around frantically, trying to assess its chances of escape.

“Go on,” Kael muttered, his voice low and threatening before he smacked the creature across the face. “Run!” he growled menacingly.

The goblin hesitated only for a split second before it darted into the forest, its movements quick and erratic. It limped slightly from the wound, leaving a faint trail of blood in its wake as it disappeared into the underbrush. The soldiers remained still, waiting, as the goblin vanished into the darkness.

The hound’s ears twitched, its body tensing as it prepared to follow. Tiber knelt beside the animal, whispering something under his breath, a command that only the hound could hear. The beast sniffed the ground, then raised its head, its eyes locking onto the direction the goblin had fled. It was ready.

Tiber stood, his eyes met the soldiers, scanning their gaze for mere moments. There was an understanding between them—no words needed.

“Hunt” he seemed to convey as the group began to move, following the hound’s lead as it tracked the scent of the wounded goblin. John fell into step, his mind sharp, his senses on high alert. The forest around them seemed to close in, the darkness growing thicker with every step.

They moved for what felt like hours, the night growing colder, the mist thicker. The goblin’s trail was leading them somewhere, and the further they ventured, the more cautious 621 became; his trusty instincts warned him of danger and so he proceeded with utmost vigilance prepared to make any necessary actions even if it compromised his facade.

“Something feels off,” Hawk said quietly, his eyes scanning the surrounding forest. “We’ve been moving too smoothly. This calm... it’s not right.”

Barnes barely glanced at Hawk, brushing off the concern with a wave of his hand. “You’re overthinking things. The Faelius Hounds know their business. We just need to keep up.”

Hawk’s frown deepened, but he kept his misgivings to himself, falling back in step with the rest of the group. The soldiers pressed on, their breaths visible in the cold air, their movements growing increasingly cautious as the night wore on.

The path they followed seemed endless, the forest growing denser and the mist more oppressive. The hound, leading the way, appeared to be on high alert, its movements more frantic than before. John noticed that the hound’s once steady pace was now irregular, its nose twitching as it followed the scent trail.

The group continued in silence, their faces grim with concentration. John’s instincts were in overdrive, his thoughts racing. He had anticipated complications, but the growing sense of unease gnawed at him.

Without warning, the hound stopped abruptly, its body tensing as it sniffed the air. It looked around, confused, then darted off in a different direction. The sudden change startled the group, and Tiber, the lead from the Faelius Hounds, called out to calm the animal.

“What’s wrong with the hound?” Barnes asked, stepping closer to Tiber, his voice betraying a hint of concern.

Tiber frowned, his eyes narrowing as he followed the hound’s erratic path. “It’s not clear. The scent seems to have... changed.”

John’s gaze swept over the forest floor. They were in an area where the foliage was dense, and the mist seemed to swirl more thickly, making visibility poor. He scanned the ground, looking for any signs of what might have caused the hound’s sudden change in behavior.

As they pushed forward, the group came upon a spot where the ground was unusually disturbed. Vegetation was crushed, and there were signs of a struggle—a few tufts of fur, bits of broken branches, and a smattering of blood. The sight was unsettling, but it was not immediately clear what had happened.

John’s eyes narrowed as he observed the area. The signs were disturbing but did not immediately reveal the cause of the disturbance. The wounded goblin’s trail had led them here, but now, it seemed as if something had gone terribly wrong. The blood was fresh, and the broken vegetation suggested a violent encounter, but the specific details remained elusive.

Kael and Tiber exchanged knowing glances. “We need to find out what happened,” Tiber said, his tone sharper now. “The hound’s behavior suggests that whatever disrupted the trail is nearby.”

“Arms at the ready men! Report anything that moves!” Kael ordered immediately.

As they processed the scene, the hound returned, panting heavily, its fur matted with something dark. It barked erratically, and Tiber tried to calm it. “Easy, boy. Show us where it went.”

The hound hesitated, then darted off in a new direction, leading them deeper into the forest. The eerie stillness had grown heavier, and John could feel the tension mounting with every step.

Suddenly, the group stumbled upon a scene that chilled them to their core. The ground was littered with what remained of the goblin: bits of flesh, broken bones, and a large pool of blood. It was clear that whatever had attacked the goblin had been brutal and unrelenting. The blood was still fresh, pooling around a mass of torn vegetation and gouged earth.

The sight of the carnage made Alex’s stomach churn, but he forced himself to stay focused. Hawk’s earlier misgivings seemed more justified now, and the growing dread was palpable among the soldiers.

“Decanus...something dangerous is here,” Hawk mentioned quietly to Barnes, but his words were swallowed by the oppressive scene and the howls of the hound.

Tiber, growing impatient, urged the group forward. “We’re close. The hound is still tracking. Stay sharp.”

As they pushed on, the tension reached a breaking point. The forest grew darker and the mist more oppressive. The hound’s barking turned into frantic yelps, and then, just as quickly, it stopped.

John could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He glanced around, his instincts flaring as the forest fell into an unnatural silence. The mist swirled around them, making the darkness feel even more claustrophobic.

It was then that a guttural growl shattered the silence, sending a shockwave of fear through the group. The hound’s yelps turned into desperate howls as a creature emerged from the mist—a hulking, monstrous figure, its eyes glowing with malevolent intent.

The creature’s presence was overwhelming, its massive frame moved with an eerie grace. Its claws, slick with the goblin’s blood, gleamed ominously as it roared, shaking the very trees around them.

The Faelius Hounds sprang into action, their disciplined training coming to the forefront. Tiber and Kael barked orders, their voices barely audible over the creature’s roar. Barnes and his group drew their weapons, but the sheer size and power of the beast made it clear that this was no ordinary foe.

John took advantage of the chaos, assessing the situation with a detached focus. He could see that their mission had shifted from tracking the goblin to surviving this nightmarish encounter. The wounded goblin had been a lure, drawing them into a deadly trap set by the monstrosity.