Twilight pressed down upon the western edge of Blackwood Forest like a blood-soaked cloth, heavy and suffocating.
The last light of the sun had lost its warmth. What remained was pale and distant, stretching every shadow long and thin across the ground—like silent sighs that refused to fade.
The south gate of Blackwood Fortress groaned open.
Those who had been waiting surged forward as one. Faces lifted. Eyes strained. Hope and fear tangled tightly in every expression.
The wind swept across the clearing, carrying dust and brittle leaves with it. No one spoke.
Then—
They appeared.
Colin walked at the front.
Mud and dried blood stained his bear-skin cloak. Fatigue carved itself into his features, yet his steps did not falter. His gaze, sharp as ever, held something deeper now—something troubled.
Behind him came Hask, Barton, and the hunting force.
They were exhausted—but unbroken.
Aside from a few scratches earned in battle with the giant bear, there were no real losses. Their bodies were caked in grime and blood, but their spirits burned brighter than when they had left.
They walked taller.
Heavier.
What had once been eagerness had hardened into something more dangerous.
Then the crowd saw what came behind them.
And the silence shattered.
Cheers erupted like thunder.
A bear.
A monstrous black bear, its body dragged by four Boar-folk, carving a deep trench through the earth. Its fur, once thick and oily, was torn open by brutal wounds. One eye, pierced clean through by an arrow, still seemed to glare with lingering fury.
It was not just prey.
It was proof.
Behind it came more—over twenty deer, lean but precious beyond measure.
For a people haunted by hunger, this was nothing short of salvation.
"Meat! We have meat again!" a child shouted from his father's shoulders, fists waving wildly.
"A whole bear… we are saved…" an old woman whispered through tears, hands clasped in trembling prayer.
Relief spread like wildfire.
The crushing weight that had hung over the fortress broke apart in an instant, replaced by joy so fierce it bordered on madness.
This harvest alone could sustain them for half a month.
For the first time in days—
They could breathe.
Colin watched them.
At last, a faint smile touched his face. He gave a small nod to Lena and Priest Sul, signaling them to prepare a feast worthy of the victory.
But before the moment could settle—
Another presence emerged.
Quiet.
Unseen until it was almost upon them.
The reconnaissance team.
Goff and Anna stepped out from the shadows like ghosts returning from the dead.
No blood stained them.
Only frost, mud, and something colder—something heavier.
Their silence cut deeper than any wound.
Goff's face remained unreadable.
But Anna…
Anna's eyes carried it.
Fear.
Shock.
Something that had not yet loosened its grip.
Colin's smile faded.
The victory was real—but incomplete.
The truth had arrived with them.
—
Night fell.
Inside the council hall, firelight pushed back the darkness. Flames crackled and leapt, devouring wood and licking at thick cuts of bear meat roasting above.
The rich scent filled the air.
A reward.
A promise kept.
Yet few truly tasted it.
Most sat still, their attention fixed on Goff and Anna.
The celebration had passed.
What remained was weight.
Goff spoke first.
Short. Clean. Final.
"Location confirmed. An unfinished mine. Ore quality is good."
A pause.
"It is occupied."
The words struck like iron.
Laila continued, her voice unsteady despite her effort to remain composed.
"It's not a camp," she said quietly. "It's… a dump. Filth everywhere. Bones."
She swallowed.
"I counted at least one hundred and fifty goblins. That's just what I could see. There are more—inside the mine, inside the huts. Two hundred… maybe close."
A murmur rippled through the room.
"They've enslaved kobolds," she continued, her voice tightening. "Starved. Beaten. Forced to carry ore."
Her hands clenched.
"They won't last long."
Then—
She hesitated.
And pushed forward anyway.
"There's a leader."
The room stilled.
"A Shaman."
Even the fire seemed to quiet.
Hask slowed his chewing. Barton's grin faded slightly.
Colin's gaze sharpened.
"You're certain?"
"I am."
Laila nodded, breath shallow.
"Robes. Bones. Feathers. A staff with a skull. I saw it casting something… green light, like ghost fire."
Her voice dropped.
"The others… they wouldn't even look at it."
Silence followed.
Heavy.
Then Goff spoke again.
"Troublesome," he said calmly. "Not impossible."
All eyes turned to him.
"A Goblin Shaman is not strong by itself," he explained. "Its danger lies in what it creates."
"Bloodlust Catalysis."
The words carried weight.
"It can drive a few goblins into frenzy. No fear. No pain. Faster. Stronger."
A pause.
"But limited. A dozen at most."
He looked up.
"So what we face is this—"
"A handful of monsters."
"And a horde of cowards."
The tension eased—slightly.
The unknown had taken shape.
And shape could be fought.
"Then what are we waiting for?!"
Berg slammed the table, leaping to his feet, beard trembling with fury and excitement.
"It's an iron mine!" he roared. "Do you understand what that means?! Weapons! Armor! Strength!"
He pointed at Colin, eyes blazing.
"The bear we eat today is gone tomorrow! But that mine—"
"That is our future!"
Barton rose as well, a savage grin spreading across his face.
"Say the word," he growled. "I'll tear that Shaman's head off myself."
A chorus of low roars followed.
The room stirred.
War was close.
But Lena stood.
"My lord," she said calmly, cutting through the noise.
"This is not the right time."
The room quieted again.
"We can win," she continued. "But not without cost."
Her gaze turned to Goff.
"How many?"
Goff did not hesitate.
"Five."
The number landed hard.
Five warriors.
Five brothers.
The fire crackled.
No one spoke.
"We have food now," Lena said. "Time. A chance to prepare. Train. Weaken them first."
Her voice remained steady.
"Why pay that price today… when we don't have to?"
Her logic was sound.
Clear.
Reasonable.
And dangerous in its own way.
Silence returned.
All eyes turned to Colin.
He had not moved.
Only his fingers tapped lightly against the table.
Once.
Twice.
Then stopped.
He stood.
Slowly.
The room tightened around him.
"Lena is right."
The words surprised many.
"Five lives is a heavy price."
He looked at her.
"We should be cautious."
A breath of relief—
Cut short.
"But tell me this."
His gaze sharpened.
"Will the goblins wait for us?"
The question struck deeper than any argument.
"We saw their tracks today," he continued. "They are expanding."
He stepped to the map, tracing paths with his finger.
"We grow stronger in a month."
"So might they."
His voice lowered.
"Or worse."
He looked back at them all.
"This forest is dark."
"We are a small fire within it."
His hand clenched.
"We either burn brighter…"
"Or we are swallowed."
He pointed to the meat on the table.
"This is not comfort."
"It is fuel."
Then—to the mine.
"That is power."
"That is survival."
His voice rose.
"We strike now—not out of desperation."
"But choice."
"Morale is high. We are fed. They are unaware."
His eyes burned.
"This is our moment."
A beat.
"We bleed now…"
"So we don't bleed more later."
Silence.
Then—
"This battle will be fought."
"And it will be won."
The air ignited.
Fear turned.
Doubt hardened.
Even Lena's hesitation faded into something quieter.
Stronger.
Hope.
Colin raised his hand—
And slammed it down.
"Bang!"
"Pass the order!"
His voice thundered.
"Target—the iron mine!"
"The entire force prepares for war!"
His gaze burned like fire.
"We will forge our future—"
"With their blood."
"And their iron."