"Alright, I relieved Tom and his dad," Bertho said as he stepped up beside Arin, brushing leaves from his shoulders. "Which means it's our turn—we're forming the second wedge." Arin didn't answer immediately. He stood balanced on a thick branch, gaze fixed on the battlefield below where an endless tide of goblins surged forward, filling gaps as quickly as they were cut down. Even after days of fighting, the sheer scale of it still felt unreal. "That's fine," he said at last, his voice calm but thoughtful. "It shouldn't be difficult… but it amazes me every time." He gestured slightly. "They just keep coming."
Bertho followed his gaze, squinting at the mass of bodies pressing against the human line or trying to reclaim the cleared strip. "I still don't understand how they survive in their own world," he admitted. "There are too many of them. Feeding that many should be impossible." Arin hopped lightly to another branch, signaling Bertho to follow. "That part I get," he replied. "They don't need much—leaves are enough. But the difference between evolved and unevolved goblins…" He shook his head. "That's what doesn't make sense."
Bertho smirked as he leaped after him. "If you're that curious, why don't you ask one before shooting it?" he teased. "Or are you too shy for that?" Arin didn't hesitate—he swung his foot back and kicked Bertho squarely mid-landing. Bertho stumbled, then burst out laughing. "Alright, alright! I deserved that." They continued through the canopy, moving with practiced ease, their banter light despite the battlefield beneath them.
When they reached their assigned section, Arin paused, scanning the line. "They're making decent progress," he noted, glancing back toward where the camp lay, now roughly fifteen kilometers behind. "Then let's help them along," Bertho said with a grin. "Otherwise, they'll fall behind when the real maneuver starts." Without waiting, he climbed higher into the trees, leaving Arin to deal with the officers below—something Arin very deliberately ignored as he followed.
Bertho wasn't surprised when Arin appeared beside him moments later, face neutral. Before he could speak, Arin cut in. "You know, it's not very nice to leave the line commander uninformed while we're here. You should go apologize." Bertho sighed. "...Yeah, alright." He knew better than to push further. Five minutes later, he returned, shaking his head slightly. "All set. They'll adjust to our wedge."
Arin nodded, eyes already scanning for targets. Bertho checked his arrows. "Ready?" "Yes," Arin said, then added with a faint grin, "I wonder when we'll see mages again. They looked expensive." Bertho snorted. "Probably when the armored ones show up again. They seemed important… and arrogant." He nocked an arrow. "Shame what happened to them." "Tragic," Arin agreed dryly.
Below them, the signal came. "Now," Bertho said. They moved as one. Arrows flew, cutting through the air with deadly precision. The effect was immediate—several evolved goblins dropped where they stood, and the tightly controlled horde faltered. What had been a coordinated push dissolved into hesitation, then panic. "That never gets old," Arin murmured, shifting to another branch as he loosed another shot.
The human line reacted instantly. The moment the goblins wavered, soldiers surged forward, cutting into the disorganized mass. "It still surprises me how quickly they break," Arin said, a hint of disgust in his voice. "The moment they're not controlled, they fall apart." Bertho kept firing, movements smooth. "They're animals at that point," he replied. "And animals run when they realize they're being slaughtered."
He paused briefly, watching a group of goblins turn and flee, only to be cut down. "It helps us," he added. "But imagine if they didn't run. If they stayed like before…" Arin grimaced. "Don't remind me." They both remembered—the mindless, fearless ones, easier to predict but far more terrifying. "I'd rather not deal with that again," Arin said quietly. "Same," Bertho agreed.
They moved again, flowing through the canopy as the wedge took shape below. Each cluster of evolved goblins they eliminated caused another break in the enemy line, allowing the humans to push forward a few more meters. From above, it looked almost graceful—a steady, deliberate advance cutting into chaos.
Below, however, it was anything but graceful. Captain Saabir al-Minhas wiped sweat from his brow as he barked orders. "Send another runner! We need reinforcements now!" A messenger sprinted off. Saabir glanced upward, though he could see nothing through the dense canopy. "I'd heard about them," he said to his vice captain. "But I didn't think they were this effective."
"You can't even spot them," his vice captain replied, eyes scanning the trees. "But the moment they act… everything changes." Saabir nodded. "The goblins react instantly. It's like flipping a switch." He looked back to the front line, where soldiers were beginning to slow, their strikes losing precision. "We need to rotate them faster," the vice captain added. "Ten minutes at this intensity is too much."
Saabir's expression hardened. "You're right. Prepare to rotate!" The order spread quickly. Then, as if perfectly timed, another volley from above dropped more evolved goblins. The enemy line wavered. "Now!" Saabir shouted.
The first line surged forward, cutting down the goblins before them, then pulled back just as quickly. In seconds, shields locked again as fresh soldiers stepped in, the exhausted ones retreating to the rear. The entire exchange took less than ten seconds—a seamless rotation that kept the line intact.
From above, Arin and Bertho watched the movement unfold. "Looks like a dance," Arin muttered. Bertho smirked slightly. "A deadly one." And as the wedge continued to carve deeper into the goblin line, the rhythm of battle only intensified—arrows falling, soldiers advancing, and the forest slowly, inevitably, being consumed by war.