Upon that throne sat the Goblin Chief—a hulking, scarred monstrosity twice the height of its kin. A crown of twisted nails jutted from its cracked, bald skull, and in one clawed hand, it gripped a scepter of fused femurs. At its feet knelt the roughback that had fled earlier, its dried, leathery back rising and falling with each terrified breath.

  The Chief’s crimson eyes flickered open. “Hhhhuman…” The guttural voice slithered through the cavern. “My kin… my food… you kill them.”

  Adam tilted his head, axes hovering lazily at his sides. “You talk too much.”

  The Chief’s jaw stretched into a grotesque grin. “Then die quiet.”

  The words had barely left its mouth when the red-eared goblins surged forward. Adam raised his hand. From the tunnel behind him came a shriek of metal as dozens of blood-soaked weapons—axes, spears, rusted blades—ripped through the air and plowed into the horde. The impact was thunderous. Flesh tore, bones shattered, and in seconds, the cavern was silent, every goblin but the Chief reduced to ruin.

  The air warped. The Chief slammed its scepter into the ground, and a wave of corrupted energy exploded outward, screaming in a tide of red light that melted stone and flesh alike. Adam twisted aside, but the shockwave still grazed him, his mask sizzled, coat edges singed. Still, his gaze—cold and unblinking—never left the Chief.

  He crouched low, dust curling around him like smoke. “Interesting.”

  Another blast followed. Then another. Each distorted the air with nauseating ripples as the Chief’s body swelled with veins of corruption, its muscles ballooning grotesquely. It bellowed, the sound sharp enough to make the walls tremble.

  Adam’s fingers flexed. The air shivered.

  Both axes shot forward, spinning at impossible speed. They struck the Chief’s barrier, sparking against a translucent crimson shell.

  The creature laughed. “I drink your blood, human!”

  It raised its arm for another blast—

  And Adam moved.

  The axes ripped through the energy wave like blades through fog. The barrier shattered with a crack like thunder, the corruption collapsing inward in a violent implosion. The Chief’s eyes widened.

  It barely had time to breathe before Adam flicked his wrist. The axes curved midair, spinning faster than sight. The Chief swung its scepter in desperation, but the blades passed clean through, shearing off its arm at the elbow.

  A howl of agony split the chamber. Black blood sprayed in a fan across the throne.

  “Still standing?” Adam murmured, eyes narrowing. “Let’s fix that.”

  The air warped again—not from corruption, but from illusion.

  To the Chief, there were now a dozen Adams. Each moved, breathed, and radiated the same killing intent. They advanced in unison, silent and relentless. The Chief panicked, unleashing another shockwave—obliterating under half the illusions—but seven remained, circling tighter, steps in perfect rhythm.

  The Chief spun, claws raking at shadows. Striking nothing.

  From behind, the real Adam whispered, “Here.”

  Both axes plunged into its spine. The Chief convulsed, spewing corruption from its mouth. Adam yanked the blades free and, with a flick of his wrist, sliced them across its throat in a clean, fluid arc.

  The head toppled.

  Blood erupted in a geyser of black and red, coating the walls and pooling around his boots. Adam raised a hand, fingers curling slowly. The specter rose from the severed hand. It drifted into his palm, trembling softly.

  “Mission requirement secured,” he muttered, studying it before sending it into his inventory.

  He stared at the corpse for a moment longer, then turned toward the narrow tunnel ahead.

  The roughback goblin, somehow still alive, sprinted deeper into the darkness, screeching.

  Adam tilted his head, expression unreadable. Then he started walking.

  Each step echoed in the hollow silence. Blood dripped from his coat, forming a trail behind him as he followed the wounded goblin into the dark.

  The tunnel twisted sharply, descending into an abyss of dripping stone and phosphorescent fungus. Distant snarls and rhythmic drumbeats echoed from below—an entire tribe waiting in the dark.

  Another nest.

  As he stepped into the dim light of the next cavern, where slime-coated goblins stirred from their slumber, the corner of Adam’s mouth curved upward beneath his mask.

  “Found you,” he whispered.

  Members of SilverTop advanced through the dim tunnel, spears raised. Sigvid led the way, flanked by two men, while four other Awakened formed ranks behind—two in the middle, two guarding the rear.

  They moved in silence. The only sounds were the soft scuff of boots and the faint drip of water from the stone ceiling. When they reached the end of the pathway, four separate tunnels yawned open before them, each disappearing into darkness.

  “Commander, which do we choose?” one of the men whispered, nervous.

  Sigvid glanced over his shoulder. Oh. The recruit. Didn’t he read the report before coming?

  He opened his mouth, but Kade’s irritated voice cut in first. “Bart, I told you to read the report before the mission. You think this is a leisure trip or—”

  “There’s no need to shout,” Sigvid interjected smoothly. “Just tell him.”

  Kade sighed through his nose, forcing his tone down as Bart fidgeted with his spear handle.

  “We’ll only be exploring the first three tunnels from the rightmost cave,” Kade explained.

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  Bart blinked. “Why’s the last one off-limits?”

  The air grew heavy. Every Awakened in the group turned toward him, their gazes sharp.

  “For the last time—read your damn reports before a mission,” Kade said, exhaling hard. “The last tunnel leads to the roughback’s lair. Even if we teamed up with Stormlight and Oleander, we wouldn’t be able to clear it.”

  Bart’s jaw slackened, but no sound came. His eyes flicked toward the leftmost tunnel as if engraving its location into his memory.

  “Be careful,” Sigvid said evenly. “These tunnels are interconnected. If you get lost, you’re on your own. The Roughbacks are cannibalistic and suicidal.”

  “Won’t they come out if they smell us?” Bart asked, hesitant.

  “For crying out loud,” Kade muttered. “Would we be standing here if they did? Use your head, idiot.”

  Sigvid ignored the exchange. “Commander, which do we choose this time?” Kade asked.

  Sigvid studied each tunnel in turn before speaking. “Since we arrived first, we have the right to pick. Stormlight will likely target the pink-eyes, and Oleander’s women will go for the slime munchers. We’re here for Fermo Crystals, so the red ears are ours.”

  He nodded toward Kade, who retrieved a compact flag from his belt. Without a word, Kade strode to the second tunnel from the right and drove the flag into the ground. A holographic silver spear shimmered above it, flickering in the gloom.

  “Sir, do we move in?” Kade asked.

  Sigvid didn’t answer right away. His gaze swept the other tunnels before returning to his men. “That brat entered the portal first, but we’ve seen no sign of him since. Doesn’t that strike anyone as strange?”

  Kade scoffed. “Commander, you’re giving him too much credit. He probably retreated to the entrance as soon as he got in. His party hasn’t even arrived yet; he’s probably waiting for backup.”

  “But the dungeon opened early,” one of the men said cautiously.

  Sigvid’s brow furrowed, but before he could respond, the ground trembled beneath their boots. Dust drifted from the ceiling.

  “What was that?” Bart whispered, clutching his spear tighter.

  “Relax,” Kade muttered. “It’s common here. You’d know that if you’d read the damn report.”

  Sigvid’s voice rose, firm and calm. “Enough delays. Let’s go hunt some ugly bastards.”

  They fell into a heptagonal formation, shields raised, spears angled forward. Sigvid lit a flameless torch, a cold blue flare blooming to life, and led them deeper into the tunnel.

  “Don’t worry,” he called quietly over his shoulder. “It’s only dark here. Their lair won’t be this bad. We’ll be there in ten minutes.”

  No one replied.

  “Wait for my signal before engaging,” he added. “If they alert the other tribes through the hidden passages, we’ll be swarmed.”

  He glanced over his men. Apart from Bart, their faces were steady, hardened, and focused.

  Sigvid reached out and tapped the tunnel wall, listening to the echo. Each passage had a distinct resonance, and dungeon raiders used it to track their path. The bubbling tone confirmed they were still on course.

  “Commander, look; it’s the exit!”

  “Keep your voice down, Bart,” Sigvid hissed. “Their scouts patrol near the openings.”

  He gestured sharply, and the formation broke into pairs, each covering the other’s blind spot.

  “Remember,” he whispered, “we have to—”

  The words died on his tongue as he stepped into the cavern.

  Blood. Everywhere.

  The walls dripped crimson, splattered with unidentifiable remains. The floor was a swamp of gore and viscera; bodies piled in grotesque heaps. A stench of iron and decay choked the air.

  Sigvid froze. Kade’s voice trembled behind him. “W-what… what am I looking at?”

  Sigvid couldn’t answer. His gaze locked onto the battered, headless corpse far from the throne of bone—the Goblin Chief.

  Seeing the smaller goblins torn apart was one thing; infighting could do that. But their chief? That was different.

  “Did the Roughbacks do this?” one of the men asked, voice unsteady.

  Sigvid finally turned. “The tribes hate each other, yes—but this?” He gestured to the carnage. “This wasn’t their doing.” He pointed toward the Chief’s ruined corpse. “Someone else killed it.”

  Kade stared, disbelief etched on his face. “An Awakened? In less than an hour?”

  Sigvid took a slow breath. “Forget the bodies. Search for the crystals. If the Roughbacks were involved, they’d have ignored them.”

  The men nodded and spread out, overturning corpses and scraping through bloodied rubble in silence.

  Minutes passed. One by one, they regrouped, empty-handed, grim-faced.

  Sigvid scanned them, jaw tight. This place has been stripped clean.

  “Commander,” one of the men finally said, “maybe we miscalculated. Maybe Stormlight or Oleander got here first.”

  Sigvid shook his head slowly. “That’s not possible,” he said. “We arrived before—”

  He stopped mid-sentence. Something was wrong.

  He stared at the battered corpses once more, his thoughts drifting. We usually stay clear of each other’s way. SilverTop gathers the crystals, Stormlight hunts the pink eyes, and those witches collect the slime sacs. So why the hell would they cross into our hunting ground?

  His free hand clenched at his side, eyes fixed on the headless Goblin Chief. If it’s either of them… this is a declaration of war.

  “Commander, I believe we should return and report this to the Guild Leader,” Kade said. “We can’t let them get away with this.”

  “Let’s return—”

  Sigvid’s words never finished. Footsteps echoed from the main tunnel. His expression tightened.

  “Positions,” he ordered quietly. “If it’s goblin scouts, eliminate them before they call for backup. But if it’s Stormlight or Oleander, don’t move. Their numbers exceed ours.”

  The men melted into the shadows, hiding behind jagged rocks and blood-streaked walls. Spears tightened in trembling hands as the sound drew closer: boots scuffing, faint murmurs, a flicker of light.

  The steps grew louder. Then came voices, too muffled to make out. Sigvid edged closer to the tunnel’s mouth, spear poised. Just how many are there?

  A silhouette emerged—human. Then another.

  Sigvid’s gut sank. Stormlight and Oleander, together.

  “Did they team up?” he muttered under his breath. “This could be bad.”

  “Sigvid, come out, you old bastard!”

  The roar rattled the cavern walls. Sigvid stepped into view, his silver spear gleaming faintly under the blue torchlight.

  “Johnattan,” he said evenly, then shifted his gaze toward the woman beside him. “And Ayleen. So, you two decided to work together after all.”

  “What?” they said at once.

  Sigvid sneered. “No point pretending now. You think I’m blind? You wiped the red ears and siphoned every Fermo Crystal.”

  Ayleen’s brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?” Her sharp eyes lingered on his spear. “You should be explaining why SilverTop encroached on Oleander territory.”

  Sigvid barked a short laugh. “Encroached? You’re the ones who butchered the red ears and came here to dump the blame on us.”

  “How dare you—”

  “Wait.” Johnattan stepped forward, his deep voice cutting through the rising tension. “Sigvid, you’re saying the red ears were annihilated too?”

  Sigvid’s glare flicked between them, doubt flickering in his eyes. Could the same thing have happened to their tribes?

  “Even the Goblin Chief’s dead,” he said finally.

  Both Ayleen and Johnattan froze, their eyes widening in disbelief.

  “So you two had nothing to do with this,” Sigvid muttered, lowering his weapon slightly. “Then who the hell did?”

  Johnattan crossed his arms. “The pink eyes, all their eyes were carved out.”

  “And none of the slime sacs were left,” Ayleen added grimly.

  Sigvid’s jaw tightened. A massacre across every tribe?

  “Maybe a high rank Awakened slipped into the dungeon before us,” he said, voice low. “It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

  “No wonder the dungeon opened early,” Ayleen murmured. “They probably cleared everything and left before we arrived.”

  “Then why didn’t we see them?” Johnattan asked, frowning.

  No one answered. The silence was heavy, almost suffocating. Sigvid knew if a high rank Awakened wanted to hide, they could vanish even from sight itself.

  “Could it be the roughback tribe?” Kade asked as he emerged from cover.

  “No chance,” Johnattan said instantly. “If the Chief’s dead, no goblin did this.”

  One by one, SilverTop’s members revealed themselves, unease etched across their faces.

  Ayleen stepped forward. “We should—”

  A deafening explosion cut her off.

  The ground shook violently, dust and gravel raining from the ceiling. Another blast followed, closer and sharper.

  Then came the sound of shattering stone.

  In a blink, a chunk of the wall collapsed inward, and something tumbled through—a mangled figure with its back flayed open in bloody lacerations.

  Sigvid blinked. A roughback?

  Before the thought could settle, a crimson blur sliced through the haze.

  The goblin’s head flew clean off its neck. The blur vanished.

  Sigvid stared at the twitching corpse, his mouth dry. Slowly, he looked up and saw his disbelief mirrored in Johnattan’s and Ayleen’s faces.

  They didn’t need to say it.

  The high-ranked Awakened hadn’t left.