"There it is," Arin said, pointing toward a clearing in the forest where a plume of purple smoke rose steadily into the evening sky. Even through the dense canopy, the signal was impossible to miss, marking the rendezvous point clearly for any survivors still able to move. He narrowed his eyes slightly, scanning the surroundings for danger before letting out a quiet breath. "Looks like we're the first ones here." There was no relief in his voice—only confirmation. The battlefield had already taught him that being early often meant others wouldn't be arriving at all.
Still, he didn't linger on the thought. Rolling his shoulders, he shifted his weight as if preparing for another task rather than rest. "Now, if you'll excuse me," he continued, already turning away, "I'm going to scout those black smoke signals and see what kind of damage we're dealing with. And if you happen to see my family…" he added, almost as an afterthought, "tell them I'm safe." Without waiting for a reply, he dashed off into the forest, disappearing between the trees with practiced ease. Behind him, Yoshikazu watched silently for a moment before letting out a quiet sigh. "Well… that works," he muttered, folding his arms as he glanced back toward the clearing. "Let's just hope he doesn't come back with confirmation that the goblins crushed the other units." The thought lingered unpleasantly as more survivors slowly began to gather, each group looking worse than the last.
Meanwhile, Arin felt a grin spread across his face the moment he was out of sight. "Finally… no more socializing," he muttered under his breath, the relief evident in his tone. While others preferred the safety of numbers, he thrived alone—especially when it meant he could act freely without having to explain himself. His attention quickly locked onto the nearest plume of black smoke rising through the trees, and his pace quickened as his thoughts shifted from survival to opportunity. The system notification replayed itself in his mind, as vivid as when it first appeared. (Eliminated Goblin Mage – Stage 0.3 – Gained 10 points.) Arin couldn't help but chuckle. "They're way too profitable," he said quietly.
If more people realized how valuable those mages were, recruitment centers would likely be overflowing again. Then again, he doubted most could actually reach them. Goblin mages were probably heavily guarded, hidden behind layers of protection that would overwhelm ordinary soldiers. But for someone like him—someone who could move unseen and strike from a distance—they were practically walking rewards. Slowing as he neared his target, Arin climbed into the canopy, his movements silent and efficient. From his vantage point, he quickly located the mage below, surrounded by guards and completely unaware of the danger above. Without hesitation, he nocked three arrows and loosed them in rapid succession. Each shot struck perfectly. The mage dropped before it even had time to react, and for a brief moment, everything went still.
Then the panic began. The guard goblins froze, their eyes darting wildly as they searched for an unseen enemy. Confusion quickly turned into fear, and fear into something far more irrational. One goblin moved first, raising its weapon—not toward the trees, but toward its own kind. Another followed. Within seconds, the group descended into chaos, each one acting as though trying to escape blame for the mage's death. One by one, they ended their own lives in a bizarre, staggered sequence. Arin watched in silence for a moment before snorting softly. "Every time," he muttered, shaking his head. The first time he had seen it, he had nearly fallen out of the tree laughing. It had reminded him of headless chickens running in circles until one made a decision, only for the rest to follow without thinking. Even now, it was difficult not to find it absurd.
Still, he wasn't about to complain. It made his job easier, and efficiency was everything in a situation like this. By the time he had eliminated three mages, Arin leaned back against a thick branch, letting out a satisfied breath. What once took hundreds of arrows now required barely a handful. The difference was staggering. "I wonder how the rest of the family is doing," he murmured, his thoughts drifting briefly. There should have been three more of them operating in this part of the forest, but he hadn't seen any signs. Then again, he also hadn't found one of the expected mages. The thought lingered only for a moment before fatigue began to creep in, dull and persistent. Adjusting his position slightly, Arin rested his head against the trunk. "I'll just rest for a bit," he decided, closing his eyes as the forest around him slowly grew quiet.
Back at the clearing, the situation continued to deteriorate as more units arrived. The survivors were in terrible condition—bloodied, exhausted, and reduced to a fraction of their original numbers. Some groups had lost their captains entirely, while others were missing key officers, leaving them disorganized and leaderless. By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, the scale of the disaster was impossible to ignore. Inside the command tent, Commander Costica Lupei stood with several reports in hand, his expression grim as he surveyed the room. Where there should have been twenty-two people, only thirteen remained. Three divisions had not returned at all, and several others stood in their place, missing vice-captains or entire command structures. "…It's not looking good," Costica said at last, his voice steady but heavy. "
Though I suppose that much is obvious." He placed the reports down and looked around at the assembled officers. "Before we go over the numbers, does anyone have an explanation for why this operation went so wrong?" Silence filled the tent, thick and oppressive. No one spoke until Costica's gaze settled on Yoshikazu. "You returned with the most survivors. Speak." Yoshikazu straightened slightly before answering. "In my opinion, the turning point was the mage," he said. "We were briefed on elite armored goblins and even the possibility of mages, but nothing suggested a mage capable of influencing over a hundred thousand units." A murmur spread through the tent as the implication sank in. "The reason we still have roughly eight thousand survivors," Yoshikazu continued, "is because someone from the Moonhawks eliminated that mage. Without that intervention, we would not have survived."
The room fell silent again, the weight of his words pressing down on everyone present. Costica's expression hardened. "You're saying that if the mage hadn't been killed, your entire force would have been wiped out?" Yoshikazu nodded without hesitation. "Yes. When the mage died, the spell rebounded onto the goblins. They weakened instantly, and many died where they stood—especially those already wounded. Without that… those berserk goblins would have overwhelmed us completely." Costica exhaled slowly, rubbing his forehead as he turned his attention to the other captains. "And the rest of you? Your reports don't mention any mage eliminations. Did it escape?" One captain stepped forward, his head lowered. "No, Commander. We never even saw the mage. By the time we realized what was happening, we were already struggling to survive. We didn't have the manpower to attempt it."
Costica remained silent for a moment, unable to fully fault them. He had seen the reports. He had seen the smoke signals. They had underestimated the enemy. "…Even so," he said finally, his tone sharpening, "your losses before the mage's influence were already too high. These were not untrained soldiers." No one answered. They all understood. The casualty exchange had failed. For every human lost, more than ten goblins needed to die—and that threshold had not been met. The implication was clear and deeply unsettling. "…We'll rest," Costica said at last. "Post lookouts. Prepare for night raids. We'll continue this discussion in the morning." He turned to his vice-commander. "Send a messenger to the nearest signal tower. This message goes to Marshal Herman. No one else is to read it." The vice-commander stiffened but nodded, already understanding the gravity of the order.
Far from the tension of the command tent, high above the forest floor, Arin slept soundly on his branch, unaware that while he had thrived in the shadows and turned the tide in small but critical ways, the larger battle had shaken the confidence of the entire army. The war, it seemed, was far from as one-sided as they had once believed.