The dirt road wound onward until the stockade came into view, a bristling ring of wood encircling a cluster of houses, weathered and strong, formed a rough barrier against the world, and towers stood sentinel at each corner, silent guardians of the village's secrets. Smoke curled from chimneys above the wooden houses, and the distant sound of activity hinted at the life inside. The air carried the faint scent of woodsmoke and something else...perhaps the unique smell of this place, born of its people and farms.
" Wew! Finally, maybe in a day or two, we'll reach the gateway to the 4th floor."
"Doing all these hunt quests wasn't bad; we accumulated a lot of experience."
"And we have enough funds to get a room at a decent inn."
"Imagine being able to use money from the surface. "
Acharya let out a dry laugh, "They tried to push their currency into the dungeon, and it fell flat. It's only good for the first three floors, anyway."
"Due to the intrinsic properties of the dungeon, such an action was rendered impossible."
"Hey, over there! What's all that shouting and commotion?"
Outside a wide, low-slung building, a churning mob had gathered. The air crackled with their discontent, a mix of frightened murmurs and angry shouts. Humans and anthromorphs, their faces etched with a common anxiety, pressed forward. An armored figure, a quadragenarian with a weathered face, stood as their only bulwark, his attempts to console them a desperate whisper against the rising tide of their panic.
"Listen to me," the armored figure said, his voice cutting through the murmurs. "I understand your fear. We are diligently working to understand this surge in goblin attacks. Rest assured, the safety of this village is our foremost duty. We're actively gathering information, but our main concern is defending these walls. We can't afford to thin our ranks and send soldiers into the forest's depths. A few scouts have been sent, and we've called upon the Guild on the fifth floor for support. I urge you to remain patient and exercise extreme caution. Do not venture deep into the forest."
The mob broke apart, their fear still palpable even in their retreating backs, and Ale stepped towards the guard. The guard, still on high alert, eyed him with a wary glance. "Excuse me," Ale said, a touch of weariness in his tone. "We just came through the forest. Didn't see hide nor hair of any goblins."
"Where did you guys come from?"
Acharya smoothed down his hair. "We've come from the surface," he stated, his gaze steady. "Our goal is to explore the dungeons and labyrinths."
The guard's armored shoulders slumped slightly. "Aye, so you've traveled from the upper floors, aiming for the fourth," he said, his voice laced with weariness. "The goblin activity is localized to the north. Their nesting ground eludes us for the moment. *He gestures towards the stockade*. We are short on able bodies, forced to await the arrival of aid. Until then, we hold this line."
Ale nods. "We're adventurers, just passing through. But if there's anything we can do to help..." The guard hesitated, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. "Hmm," he murmured, his gaze shifting between Ale and the building entrance. "It's... It's not up to me. But the Captain might be willing to consider it. He's inside the building, just past the entrance."
With a shared glance, the boys entered the building. The noise of the street faded, supplanted by the hushed quiet of the interior. They moved purposefully towards the captain's office. It was marked, the door already open, a waiting silence within.
"How can I help you?"
"Adventurers," Acharya stated, getting straight to the point. "We can take care of these goblins for you."
The captain rubbed his temples, a weary sigh escaping his lips. "Take care of the goblins?" he repeated, his voice flat. "Look, you two seem like nice kids, but this is serious. You're young. Just go back to wherever you came from. We'll handle it."
Acharya drew a small, intricately carved pendant from beneath his vest. "We are not children seeking a handout," he stated, his voice firm. "Trust us when we say we are capable of handling this."
"Madhav, verify their credentials," the captain ordered, his voice clipped and efficient. "Bring the report to me at once." He indicates the seating. "Sit down." He didn't waste time with pleasantries. Once they were settled, he fixed them with a scrutinizing gaze. "So, tell me. Your level and title?"
"I am level 8."
"Same, and our title is Hunter."
The guard, a stern-faced man with tired eyes, entered the office. He briskly handed a stack of papers to the captain, then, with a brief nod, returned the pendants to the boys.
The captain spread the papers on his desk, his gaze grim. "An average untrained villager is level 10," he explained, his voice low. "Your average goblin, on the other hand, barely reaches level 5. They're individually weak and stupid. Their strength isn't in their prowess, but in their overwhelming numbers." He leans back, a weary expression on his face. The village is severely undermanned. The soldiers are needed to defend the village. The Guild on the fifth floor was contacted for professional help. They are equipped to handle this scale of threat."
Acharya leaned forward slightly. "We made it down from the surface, just the two of us. We know how to survive out there. A few goblins? No problem. We can handle them."
"The offer is appreciated," the captain said, his voice softer now. "But you are still young... You are skilled. But this is not a game. The goblins are a serious threat, and losing young adventurers cannot be risked."
"We're aware of the manpower shortage," Ale states, his voice unwavering. "Send us into the northern forest. We'll find where those goblins are hiding out, and then you can send in your people or wait for reinforcement."
The captain leaned back, a thoughtful expression on his face. He rubbed his chin, considering their words. "Alright," he said slowly, "you're hired. Report to me if you uncover anything significant. And be cautious. Don't linger out there; the forest is unforgiving."
------------------------------------------***-------------------------------------------------
The quest began, each dawn seeing them disappear into the northern forest. The northern forest, a dense tangle of trees and shadows, became their domain. They moved with practiced stealth, but the goblins were relentless. Small skirmishes erupted, sharp bursts of combat against packs of the creatures. They fought, they healed, they survived, but the days bled into each other. After a week of tireless reconnaissance, the captain's office became a familiar sight, but their report remained unchanged: no goblin burrow, no sign of where the main force was hiding.
"We didn't run into any big goblin group."
Ale, while cleaning his sword, "Fortunately... but we have no lead on their burrow."
With slight discomfiture, Acharya smiles, "So, did you get any new skills yet?"
"Not really!" Ale said, a grin spreading across his face. "Still just rockin' 'Thunder Strike' and that extra punch against beasts from 'Hunter'. Anything new for you?"
"Nothing new on my end," Acharya said, a wry smile on his face. How does "Thunder Strike' work?"
"'Thunder Strike'" Ale stated, his voice level. "It's primarily a mobility tool, designed to enhance my next attack and reset on a critical or a kill. It sacrifices raw power for speed and maneuverability. It's not as consistent as your 'Piercing Gale'."
(somewhere in the distance) AAAAHHHHHH!!!
The sudden sound caused Ale and Acharya to exchange a sharp glance, their training activating. They dropped everything and rushed toward the noise. They entered a clearing and the scene ahead was stark: a young village girl wearing a phariya and a comfortable chaubandhi cholo on top. A bamboo-woven doko basket with a lot of herbs was beside her. A middle-aged man wearing a simple daura surwal was bleeding from cuts on his body, and his wooden staff was a flimsy shield against the encroaching threat. Their eyes snapped to the source of the danger: a snarling mob of goblins. Two archers nocked arrows, three scouts darted low, 5 warriors raised their rusted swords in the air, and a shaman, his skin painted with unsettling symbols, chanted menacingly at the rear. Ale and Acharya met each other's eyes, a silent understanding passing between them, and launched into action. Ale vaults forward, twin swords crossed defensively, shielding the wounded man. Acharya drops to a knee by the girl, an arrow already on the string, aimed toward the goblin ranks. "Take him and flee! Leave this to us!" he yelled over the rising din.
"But, but... "
While assessing the goblins' strength, Ale's voice rang out. "We are adventurers," he states, his gaze meeting theirs. "We were trained for this."
The middle-aged man, his face pale with pain but eyes blazing with resolve, forced himself upright. He winced as he shifted his weight, but his voice was firm. "I... I will help you."
Ale: "It will be more difficult with you around."
A goblin warrior, a snarling blur of movement, charges the frontline. Acharya's fingers twitch, an arrow singing from his bowstring, a silver streak against the forest backdrop. The goblin sees it coming, a fleeting glimpse past the man and Ale, and instinctively deflects the shot with his rusty armband. Unfazed, he surges forward, his rusty sword arcing towards Ale. Ale blocks the blow, twin swords held firm, and attempts to retaliate, but the goblin is too quick, slipping back out of range. Concurrently, Acharya has already nocked another arrow, his eyes scanning for flanking threats. "GO!" he roars, releasing the arrow towards a scout trying to circle to Ale's right. The young girl, her eyes wide with fear, hoists the doko, the herbs spilling slightly as she helps the injured man. Together, they flee, their footsteps pounding on the forest floor, the sounds of combat a chilling backdrop to their escape.
Ale retreats, his gaze flicking over the goblin ranks before he lands near Acharya. "Acharya," he said, his voice laced with uncertainty. "Can we handle this?"
"We have no other choice."
Two goblin scouts, one limping slightly from the earlier arrow shot to his shoulder, begin to flank. They circle, low to the ground, trying to reach Acharya, while the warrior goblins roar and surge toward Ale. The shaman, his eyes gleaming with dark intent, let out a high-pitched, guttural command. The goblin archers respond immediately, drawing back their bowstrings, arrows pointed at the adventurers. The goblin warrior in front of Ale, distracted by the fleeing villagers, lowers his guard. Ale seizes the opportunity, his sword biting into the goblin's back, a crimson line opening on its hide. The goblin turns back and slashes, but Ale is too fast, vaulting into the air with a blur of motion as he twists and spins, two goblin arrows whistling past him, harmlessly striking the trees beyond.
The goblin scout, dagger glinting wickedly, bears down on Acharya. Acharya launches himself upward, unleashing a powerful roundhouse kick. His heel connects squarely with the goblin's jaw, sending the creature reeling; its body cartwheels through the air before it crumples to the ground. Before the other scout could capitalize, Acharya pivots, his bow already raised to parry the other scout's desperate thrust. He follows up with two swift blows, the bow's wood cracking against the goblin's cheeks. He twists, kicks, and vaults backward, gaining precious space from the stunned scout.
"These goblins are more coordinated than we thought."
"It's probably due to that shaman; let me take care of him."
Ale flashes through the warrior goblins, a streak of adrenaline-fueled speed, but the fifth one intercepts him. It slams into him, a forceful tackle that halts his momentum, sending them both tumbling. The goblin shaman, his eyes wide with sudden panic, shrieks a guttural command at a waiting archer. "Ekee Eyeeek Eyyy!" The archer, a spindly creature with cruel eyes, spins and sprints into the deeper shadows of the forest. Acharya tries to take a shot at that goblin archer, but the wounded goblin warrior from earlier intervenes, its snarling face blocking his field of vision. Four warrior goblins quickly encircle Ale, their crude weapons raised, while a warrior and two scouts close in on Acharya. The shaman raises his arms, a strange, pulsing light emanating from his staff. The shaman's voice rises in a frantic chant as he invokes a spell. The goblins let out a chilling cry, "Eyyyyek!", their eyes burning and their bodies invigorated.
Ale glances towards Acharya, and a flicker of resolve hardens his gaze. He plunges back into the swirling melee, his twin swords a desperate defense. It is a whirlwind of parries, blocks, and swift strikes, his blades deflecting and cutting, leaving shallow gashes on goblin hides. But the chaos isn't without cost. Goblin blades found their target, leaving stinging cuts across his torso and multiple cuts on his hand. Across the clearing, Acharya, his body marked by the fight, delivers a strong kick that sends the warrior goblin reeling, buying himself a moment of respite. He draws his bow and aims, his target the archer on the frontline. The arrow flies, a deadly streak that found its mark, and the archer falls to the ground.
"Piercing Gale!" Acharya's bow twangs, sending a blast of wind tearing through the goblin formation in front of him. It rips through the ranks of three goblin warriors, staggering them, a transient window of opportunity. "Thunder strike!" He moves like a ghost, cutting down the warrior who had blocked Acharya, clearing a path. He didn't pause, a seamless transition from attack to defense as he coasted and windmilled into a guarding stance, twin swords angled to meet the scout charging towards Acharya. Acharya, already wounded but unwavering, sends another arrow hurtling towards the other scout. It pierces the goblin's torso, a glancing blow, but the creature remains a threat. Acharya spins, aiming at the remaining warrior goblin, but his shots are deflected, clanging off the goblin's armor. Ale, meanwhile, slashes the scout's abdomen, kicks him away, and flips towards the other scout, his blade arcing. The goblin dodges, but Ale was relentless, a whirlwind of strikes and dodges, ending the final scout with a swift, decisive combo.
The goblin shaman, a flicker of panic in its eyes, shrieks, "Eeeeek eeeh Eehy!", a high-pitched cry that signaled retreat. It spins, ready to bolt deeper into the forest's embrace. Acharya continues to pepper the remaining warrior goblins with arrows, forcing them to defend rather than attack. Ale, seeing the shaman's intent, surges forward, a whirlwind of motion, his twin swords deflecting the wild swings of the now-distracted warrior goblins. The goblin warriors turn back, focusing their attention on Ale. Acharya shoots and hits one goblin warrior in the trapezius and another in the lower back.
Ale, a flash of steel in pursuit of the shaman, is suddenly catapulted from the forest. He streaks past Acharya, a blur of motion, before crashing into a tree. Acharya gapes. "What happened?" Ale, pushing himself up, grits his teeth, "More... goblins..." As if on cue, the silence that followed is shattered by a low, rumbling growl that seemed to vibrate through the earth itself. From the shadows between the trees, parting the undergrowth with ease, emerges a hulking figure. It is goblin-shaped, but far larger; its midnight-green skin stretches taut over bulging muscles. It pauses, surveying the scene, before letting out a deafening roar that echoes through the forest, "Eee Eaack!"
Acharya mumbles, "Shit we are in trouble, It's a hobgoblin."
Acharya's arrows bounce harmlessly off the hobgoblin's thick hide and armor. The creature, a towering force of nature, charged past him, its club a devastating weapon. Acharya tries to roll with the blow, to mitigate the damage, but the impact is like being hit by a boulder. He is hurled backward, crashing into a tree with brutal force. Both boys lay stunned, the fight draining from their limbs, their bodies protesting.
The shaman stalks towards Ale, its eyes gleaming with malice. Its hands move in subtle, precise gestures, weaving an unseen magic. A strange hum fills the air, and wisps of smoky vapor curl around Ale. He feels a creeping fuzziness, a numbness spreading through his limbs, as if his body is dissolving into mist. His eyelids grow heavy, and he succumbs to the encroaching darkness.
Goblin warriors descend on Acharya, their rough hands binding him. The shaman's magic extends to him, an insidious tendril of power. He feels the same disorientation, the same overwhelming fatigue, and his resistance melts away as he surrenders to the encroaching slumber...