They're here faster than expected, Arin thought as he sat quietly among the branches, his body relaxed despite the tension building in the air. Hidden beneath the thick canopy of a chestnut tree, he had positioned himself on a hill that offered both concealment and a clear line of sight. The terrain worked in his favor; while the surrounding forest was dense enough to obstruct vision at a distance, this particular stretch had been deliberately cleared. From his vantage point, he could see the open approach where the goblins would emerge, while still remaining nearly invisible himself.
It wasn't a perfect position, though. Too many trees still stood at odd angles, limiting visibility in certain directions. Arin already knew he would have to relocate sooner or later. The smarter goblins—the evolved ones—would never expose themselves openly. They would stay behind cover, issuing orders from safety. Still, for now, this was more than enough.
The defenders had not been idle during the five hours it took for the goblins to arrive. A wide strip of forest had been cleared, creating a killing field that forced the enemy into the open. At the same time, enough trees had been left standing near the defensive line to provide cover and elevation. Platforms had even been nailed into trunks, allowing archers to fire from stable positions above ground. Below them, a dense formation of spearmen stood ready, arranged in a shallow, bowl-shaped formation that would funnel the enemy inward. The slope of the hill only made it more effective—any bodies would naturally slide downward, preventing buildup and maintaining the integrity of the formation.
From a tactical standpoint, it was well thought out.
Arin narrowed his eyes slightly as he scanned the treeline again. I'm not the only one up here, he reminded himself. Every now and then, he caught the faint glimmer of polished armor or the edge of an arrowhead reflecting light. Subtle, but noticeable if you knew what to look for.
He shook his head faintly. Amateurs.
If they had trained with his unit, they would have been scolded for something like that. Ironically, though, such obvious tells could sometimes work in their favor. Anyone experienced enough might assume it was bait—a poorly made trap meant to lure attention—and ignore it entirely. In that sense, their lack of refinement could become an accidental advantage.
His thoughts were interrupted as the first wave of goblins burst into the clearing.
They came fast, spilling out of the forest like a living tide. And then—
The sky answered.
A rain of arrows descended upon them.
From Arin's position, it almost looked like the trees themselves were attacking. Archers filled nearly every viable perch, releasing volleys in steady rhythm. The goblins barely had time to react before the first ranks fell.
Moments later, the mages joined in.
Large spheres of condensed mana arced through the air before crashing into the ground with explosive force. The impact sent dirt and debris flying, triggering small mudslides along the slope that swept through clusters of goblins. Entire sections of the advancing horde were crushed or buried in an instant.
Arin exhaled slowly.
Now it begins.
He nocked an arrow, his gaze sharpening as he focused on the chaotic movement below. Unlike the others, he wasn't aiming at just anything that moved.
He was searching.
"If you ever find yourself in a situation like this," he murmured quietly, knowing full well that others nearby were listening, "there are a few ways to spot evolved goblins."
His voice remained calm as he drew the bowstring.
"First, if a group suddenly looks to one goblin for direction—kill that one."
He released.
The arrow vanished into the chaos, striking its target cleanly. Almost instantly, the surrounding goblins faltered, their movements becoming erratic.
"Second, if one looks more animated than the rest… if others subtly follow its lead—kill it."
Another arrow flew.
Another shift in behavior.
"After that," he continued, already drawing again, "it becomes instinct. You test your judgment. If you're wrong, the behavior doesn't change. If you're right… it does."
He let the string go once more.
The rhythm built naturally.
Nearby, he could sense the attention of others—elite archers, likely trained in disciplined traditions. That was fine. Sharing this much didn't cost him anything, and if it improved their effectiveness, it only benefited the battlefield as a whole.
And besides—
He would need allies in the future.
Arin's expression sharpened as he increased his pace. He had already identified several potential targets, and his arrows began to flow faster, each shot precise and deliberate. From the shadows of his tree, a steady stream of death descended upon the goblins below.
Each successful hit created the same effect—disruption. Groups lost coordination, devolving into chaotic, almost animalistic behavior. Some turned and fled, others charged blindly toward the defensive line, only to be cut down moments later.
"This really isn't much of a challenge," Arin thought.
Within two hundred meters, he was confident he wouldn't miss. Beyond that, his accuracy dropped slightly, but even then, hitting a small target wasn't difficult. His increased strength allowed him to draw heavier bows with ease, extending both his range and power.
Not that it mattered here.
The clearing was barely fifty meters across, and beyond that, visibility dropped sharply due to the trees. This was his ideal range.
Time passed quickly.
One hour.
Then two.
Then three.
The sun climbed higher, reaching its peak as the battle dragged on. Soldiers on the front lines began rotating out, exhaustion setting in as fresh troops replaced them. Despite the constant pressure, the line held firm.
But then—
Something changed.
Arin's eyes narrowed.
A new group emerged from the forest.
At first glance, they looked different. More organized. Better equipped.
Then he saw it clearly.
Armor.
Human armor.
Weapons taken from fallen soldiers.
"…You've got to be kidding me."
He focused, his gaze sharpening as he identified one of them.
And then—
His expression darkened.
(Goblin – Stage 0.1)
"…All of them?"
A quiet curse slipped from his lips.
"Well… shit."
This changed everything.
Even in small numbers, enemies at that level were dangerous. Against an already exhausted force, they could turn the tide—or at the very least, inflict devastating losses.
Arin exhaled slowly, his mind already adjusting.
Even if they won this battle… the campaign would end here.
There would be no pushing deeper into the forest. Not after this.
Across the defensive line, others seemed to reach the same conclusion. The shift in atmosphere was immediate. The earlier confidence faded, replaced by a heavy, uneasy tension.
Morale dropped.
And quickly.
But the military had anticipated this.
From behind the lines, music began to rise—loud, energetic, impossible to ignore. Instruments and crude speakers pushed sound across the battlefield, filling the air with a rhythm meant to stir the blood and steady the heart.
Arin blinked once.
"…That's new."
Then, slowly, a grin formed.
"…Not bad."
He felt it—the shift. The tension transforming into something sharper. Focus. Adrenaline.
His blood began to heat.
"Now this is more like it."
Without hesitation, he adjusted his aim.
If all of them were intelligent, then targeting leaders no longer mattered.
So instead—
He targeted the most dangerous ones.
Crossbows.
Armored units.
Those who posed the greatest threat to the line.
Arin's arrows flew faster now, each one carrying lethal intent. Around him, other ranged fighters did the same, pouring everything they had into thinning the elite force before it could reach the front.
Because once they did—
The real battle would begin.