"What do we do, chief?" Akro asked.
Akro's voice was tight, the kind of tight that came from seeing something so wrong your instincts stalled for a moment.
The scouts remained crouched behind sparse brush and broken stone, but the cover felt laughable now. Below them, the mountain's stink thickened as the wind shifted, sulfur and smoke and something metallic, like blood left too long on hot rock.
Ludwig didn't answer immediately. He kept his eyes locked onto the goblins that were changing to Orcs, watching bodies swell and twist under forced magic like dough being kneaded into a new shape.
The sound of it carried faintly even from here: wet cracking, strained breaths, pain muffled by clenched teeth and obedience.
"Let me think for a second," Ludwig replied as he kept his eyes locked onto the goblins that were changing to Orcs.
This made sense, the reason why they're this many, why they dared go on an assault.
