The dense forest stretched endlessly around them, its towering trees and tangled underbrush creating an almost suffocating canopy. Artreus and Mikael sprinted through the woods, their boots crunching against the thick layer of fallen leaves and twigs. Weak sunlight filtered through the foliage above, casting shifting shadows that seemed to move with them.

This was their first mission: to eliminate a goblin nest that had been terrorizing nearby villages. The task seemed straightforward in principle, but the danger was undeniable. For both of them, this was their first real challenge outside the controlled environment of Samson's training grounds.

"Goblins, huh?" Mikael called out, his voice attempting to stay light despite the tension in the air. "Never seen one before. Master says they're ugly little things. Short, long ears—hard to look at, right?"

Artreus kept his focus forward, his tone serious. "I've seen drawings in the old books. Ugly is right, but don't underestimate them. They're vicious and quick. They hunt in packs and set traps. Underestimating them is what gets people killed."

Mikael's usual grin faltered for a moment, though he tried to keep the mood up. "And from what I heard, we're outnumbered. Master said goblins breed like rabbits. Could be dozens of them in the nest." He hesitated, glancing sideways. "Plus… Aidan didn't even want to come along with us."

Artreus shot him a firm look. "Who needs Aidan? We've got each other's backs. We trained for this. Master pushed us hard for a reason. We can handle it."

The goblin nest came into view—a twisted grove of gnarled trees surrounded by rough earthen mounds that marked their territory. The stench of rot and decay hung heavy in the air, carried by a faint acrid breeze.

In the clearing, the goblins screeched and snarled in their guttural tongue, their sharp teeth bared as they squabbled over scraps of food. Small fires burned in the center of the camp, casting eerie shadows on the surrounding mounds.

The creatures were grotesque—short and wiry, with long, pointed ears, jagged teeth, and eyes gleaming with cruel intelligence. At least two dozen of them moved about the camp, armed with crude weapons: rusty daggers, splintered clubs, and jagged blades.

Crouched at the edge of the clearing, Artreus and Mikael exchanged a glance. The weight of their mission pressed down on them, the stakes high for their first real test.

"So, how do we play this, Art?" Mikael whispered. "Rush in, or go for a sneak attack?"

Artreus narrowed his eyes, studying the camp. Several goblins stood guard at the perimeter, their heads twitching as they surveyed the area. Others in the center moved with surprising coordination, chattering loudly.

"We go in quietly," Artreus said. "Take out the sentries first. Then create a distraction to pull them apart. Once they're scattered, we pick them off without getting swarmed."

Mikael nodded, his grip tightening on his short sword. "Sounds good. Let's make it happen."

But before they could act, Artreus's instincts—sharpened through weeks of Samson's grueling training—prickled. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as a low growl rumbled behind them.

He spun around just as a goblin lunged from the shadows, its jagged teeth bared in a feral scream.

Artreus reached for his sword, but the goblin was too fast, closing the distance in seconds.

Thwip!

A short sword flew through the air, burying itself in the goblin's head with a sickening thud. The creature crumpled lifelessly to the ground.

Startled, Artreus looked up to see Mikael standing with his arm still outstretched from the throw.

"Well," Mikael said, a wry grin tugging at his lips, "so much for sneaking around."

The goblins in the clearing froze, their snarls turning to guttural cries as they spotted the intruders. Within seconds, the entire camp erupted into chaos.

"Crap," Mikael muttered, drawing his sword. "Looks like we're going all out!"

Artreus didn't hesitate. Two goblins charged him, their crude daggers raised. He sidestepped the first, his blade flashing as he slashed through its chest. The second goblin lunged, and Artreus spun on his heel, driving his sword into its back.

"They're going to try to surround us!" Artreus shouted.

A faint whistle caught his ear, and he ducked instinctively. A crossbow bolt zipped past, embedding itself into a tree trunk where his head had been moments before.

"Shit," he muttered, his heart pounding. "I almost died."

Nearby, Mikael was a blur of movement. He parried a goblin's clumsy strike, spun, and drove his blade into another's side. As a third goblin rushed him, Mikael blocked the attack and delivered a swift kick, sending the creature sprawling.

"Come on, you ugly little bastards!" Mikael yelled, slashing at another goblin. "I can do this all day!"

Despite their numbers, the goblins were disorganized and frenzied, relying on brute force. Artreus and Mikael, however, remained calm and precise—a testament to Samson's rigorous training.

Artreus sidestepped another wild lunge and slashed his attacker down. His breaths came fast and heavy, but his focus never wavered.

"This is what we've trained for," he thought. "I can do this."

Despite their sheer numbers, the goblins were chaotic and disorganized, relying on brute force and frenzy over strategy. Artreus and Mikael, however, moved with precision and calmness, each strike deliberate and deadly.

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But as the chaos of the battle raged, a guttural roar cut through the din, loud and commanding.

The remaining goblins fell back slightly as a larger figure emerged from the center of the clearing. Standing nearly twice the size of the others, the hulking goblin wielded a massive, crude club. Its body was scarred and muscular, its jagged teeth bared in a menacing snarl.

Artreus's grip on his sword tightened as his eyes locked on the creature. This wasn't an ordinary goblin.

"Mikael, watch out! It's a champion!" Artreus called out, his voice sharp.

The goblin champion roared, lifting its massive club high above its head as it charged toward Artreus.

The champion's club came crashing down with terrifying force, the air whistling as it descended. Artreus raised his sword just in time, the impact sending a shockwave up his arms and forcing him to stagger back.

The champion howled in frustration, swinging again in wide, powerful arcs. Each strike shook the ground and sent dirt flying, but Artreus dodged and weaved, staying just out of reach.

"This thing's stronger than I expected," Artreus muttered under his breath, his chest heaving.

The champion lunged again, its club smashing into the earth and leaving a crater where Artreus had stood moments before. Taking advantage of the opening, Artreus surged forward, his sword slashing across the creature's midsection. The blade bit deep, drawing dark, viscous blood.

The champion roared in pain but didn't falter. It swung wildly, forcing Artreus to roll to the side to avoid being crushed.

"Art!" Mikael shouted from nearby as he parried a goblin's strike. "Need a hand over there?"

Artreus shook his head, his focus locked on the champion. "I've got this!"

The champion, despite its injury, charged forward with reckless abandon. It raised its club again, preparing to bring it down with all its might.

Artreus narrowed his eyes, his breathing steady despite the adrenaline coursing through his veins. "I need to end this… now."

As the club came down, Artreus rolled forward, narrowly avoiding the impact. He rose to his feet behind the creature, his sword already drawn back. With a powerful upward slash, he cut through the goblin's side, the blade carving deep into its flesh.

The champion let out a guttural howl, staggering forward but refusing to fall. Its resilience was maddening.

Artreus didn't hesitate. He stepped to the side and, with a single fluid motion, slashed his blade across the creature's thick neck. The strike was clean and decisive, and the champion's howl was abruptly cut off.

The massive goblin collapsed to the ground, its lifeless body kicking up dust as it fell.

Breathing heavily, Artreus stood over the fallen champion, his chest rising and falling with exertion. His sword dripped with dark blood, and for a brief moment, the noise of the battle faded into the background.

"I… I did it," he murmured, his voice barely audible over the pounding in his ears.

The moment of triumph was short-lived. A goblin screech snapped him back to the present, and Artreus turned to see Mikael dispatching the last of the smaller goblins with a swift, precise strike.

Mikael turned, his grin wide despite the blood and sweat streaking his face. "You took down the big guy, huh? Not bad, Art!"

Artreus wiped the sweat from his brow, nodding. "Thanks… but there's no time to celebrate. Let's make sure this nest is finished."

The clearing was a scene of destruction. Charred remains of goblins smoldered in scattered heaps, their twisted forms blackened by the flames. The acrid stench of burnt flesh hung heavily in the still air, mingling with the faint, lingering smoke. The forest, moments ago alive with the screeches of battle and the clash of steel, had fallen eerily silent.

Artreus and Mikael stood side by side, their breaths ragged, their weapons still in hand. Their eyes scanned the devastation, but their focus was drawn to the fading flames at the edge of the clearing—remnants of Aidan's devastating fire magic.

Artreus's voice cut through the quiet. "Aidan!"

In the distance, the remaining goblins scattered, their panicked yelps echoing through the trees as they fled. But Aidan wouldn't let them escape. His figure blurred as he dashed forward, his blade flashing with deadly precision. One by one, the goblins fell, their bodies collapsing into the dirt until none were left.

As the last ember of fire extinguished, leaving the forest shrouded in an oppressive calm, Aidan strode forward. His movements exuded an air of superiority, his gaze cold and unyielding as he surveyed Artreus and Mikael.

Stopping a few paces away, Aidan crossed his arms, his lip curling into a sneer. "Weak. Pathetic. Is that all you've got?"

The words hit like a slap, cutting into Artreus's wounded pride. His heart pounded, the frustration of his failed mana attempt still fresh in his mind. Sweat and dirt streaked his face as he wiped it with a trembling hand, glaring at Aidan.

Mikael, sensing the rising tension, stepped forward in an attempt to diffuse it. "Come on, Aidan. We did our best!"

But Aidan barely spared him a glance, his sharp focus locked on Artreus. "Shut up!" he snapped, his voice cold and venomous. His eyes narrowed. "You! Seeing you daily makes me sick."

The atmosphere grew heavier, the weight of unspoken threats hanging in the air. Artreus, his muscles still taut from the battle, stepped forward to meet Aidan's glare head-on.

"What's your problem with me, huh? Demon prick."

Aidan's expression twisted into fury. "What did you just call me?!"

Artreus's voice rose, his frustration boiling over. "It's been months now—glaring at me for no reason! Why do you hate me so much? Or is it because I beat you the first time we fought?"

Aidan's eyes flared with anger, his jaw clenching tightly. For a moment, it seemed the two might clash again, their unresolved conflict threatening to explode into violence.

But Aidan broke the moment with a sharp sneer, turning his head slightly in disdain. "Beat me? No. You didn't beat me. You cheated—threw dirt in my eyes like a coward."

He stepped closer, his voice dripping with venom as his eyes bore into Artreus. "If I hadn't let my guard down, you wouldn't even be here. I would've left you to rot and die alone."

The words struck like a blade, cold and cutting. Artreus's fists clenched, his jaw tightening as he fought the surge of anger rising within him. Aidan's words brought the memory of their earlier fight crashing back.

Before he could respond, Mikael stepped between them, his usual easygoing demeanor replaced with seriousness. "Enough, both of you. This isn't the time. We just made it through that fight—let's not tear each other apart after surviving something like this."

But Artreus wasn't ready to back down. Stepping around Mikael, his voice hardened with resolve. "I did what I had to do to win. A win's a win, Aidan, and you can't change that. Keep making excuses if it helps you sleep at night."

Aidan's smirk returned, his eyes icy and sharp as he took a deliberate step closer. The space between them narrowed, their faces now mere inches apart.

"Keep telling yourself that, Reigns," Aidan said, his tone laced with mockery. "But remember this—next time, there won't be any tricks to save you. You'll have to face me head-on… and I'll crush you."

The tension crackled like a live wire as the two locked eyes, the air between them heavy with the weight of their rivalry. Mikael, still standing between them, exhaled heavily, his gaze darting between the two.

"Alright, alright," Mikael interjected, clapping his hands together in mock cheer. "How about we save the duel for another day? We still have to make it back in one piece, yeah?"

Aidan turned sharply, his cloak swishing as he strode away without another word, his presence radiating disdain.

Artreus remained still for a moment, his fists slowly unclenching as he forced himself to take a deep breath. He felt Mikael's hand on his shoulder, grounding him.

"Don't let him get to you, Art," Mikael said with a small grin. "He's just bitter. You're doing fine. Better than fine, actually."

Artreus let out a shaky breath, his glare still fixed on the direction Aidan had gone. "I'm not done with him," he muttered, his voice low but resolute.

Mikael gave him a pat on the back, steering him toward the path leading out of the clearing. "Good. You'll need that fire."