Nathan stared at the floating screen in front of him, the blue text flickering slightly as though waiting impatiently for his decision.
[Level Up!]
[You may select one of the following rewards:]
+20 Agility
Skill: Bone Spike Trap – Deploy a spiked bone trap with increased damage.
Item: Goblin Club – Basic Weapon, Low Durability.
Nathan rubbed his jawbone thoughtfully. "Bone Spike Trap is tempting, but if I keep throwing pieces of myself around, I'm gonna end up as a pile of dust."
His empty eye sockets scanned the other options. "The goblin club looks about as sturdy as a wet napkin, so... yeah. Agility it is."
[+20 Agility added.]
A tingling sensation rippled through his bones, as if a gust of wind had blown through him. He flexed his arms, feeling... lighter. His bones didn't creak as much, and when he moved, there was a surprising spring in his step.
"Alright, not bad. Now let's see what we've got here," he said, turning to the goblin corpses scattered around the clearing.
Their weapons lay strewn about—a rusty shortsword, a cracked wooden club, and a dented metal shield.
"Perfect," Nathan said, rubbing his bony hands together. He grabbed the shortsword and gave it a few test swings. The blade wobbled dangerously, the hilt loosely wrapped in grimy leather.
"Yup, definitely a goblin make," he muttered. Still, it was better than his own arm.
He slung the shield over his back and tucked the club through a length of vine he'd wrapped around his waist like a makeshift belt.
"Look at me. I'm the skeletal knight of trash," he said, clattering with every step.
As he stepped away from the corpses, a faint, bluish-green glow caught his attention. Hovering above each goblin corpse was a small, ethereal orb of light, pulsing gently.
"What the... ?" Nathan leaned closer, and the orbs zipped toward him, vanishing into his chest with a soft whoosh.
A notification popped up.
[You have gained Experience Points: 30 EXP]
"Oh, so that's how this works," Nathan said, nodding to himself. "EXP orbs. Just like a video game."
He took a deep breath—out of habit, not necessity—and looked around the forest. It was still early morning, the mist clinging to the trees like a ghostly shroud. Birds with too many eyes and squirrels with far too many teeth skittered about in the branches above.
"Alright, time to explore," he said, feeling surprisingly energized despite the fact that he had no blood or muscles.
Later...
Nathan had been wandering for hours, keeping to the shadows and moving with newfound agility. Despite the clattering of his bones, he was surprisingly quiet when he focused.
He followed the sound of rushing water and eventually found himself standing at the edge of a cliff. The view was both breathtaking and daunting.
Below, a wide river snaked through the forest, its waters glimmering under the sunlight like molten silver. Beyond the river, nestled in a clearing, was a village. But it wasn't a human village.
A crude wooden palisade encircled the settlement, the spikes made from uneven logs, some still splattered with blood. Tents and shacks were haphazardly thrown together, forming a maze of crude structures. Goblins milled about everywhere, barking orders, shoving each other, and gnawing on questionable hunks of meat.
Nathan's jaw fell open. "Holy crap. That's... a lot of goblins."
[Scanning Area – Initiating Identification...]
Nathan's vision blurred, and blue outlines appeared around various goblins below, each with a name and a brief description:
Goblin Grunt (Level 3) – Low Intelligence, High Aggression.
Goblin Scout (Level 4) – Fast but fragile. Weak to blunt attacks.
Hobgoblin (Level 6) – Physically stronger, commands lower goblins.
Goblin Warlock (Level 8) – Caster unit. Controls lower goblins using basic spells.
Nathan's jaw clenched. The Hobgoblins looked like the one he'd just defeated, only these were bigger, uglier, and wielding actual weapons. They towered over the smaller goblins, using clubs to smack the weaker ones into submission.
But the real problem was the Goblin Warlock. It stood at the center of the village, hunched over and cloaked in ragged, dark fabric. Its hood concealed most of its face, but Nathan could see its gnarled, clawed hand clutching a wooden staff adorned with bone charms and crude fetishes.
The warlock waved the staff, muttering incomprehensible words, and a green mist swirled around its feet. The smaller goblins shrieked and scurried to obey as the warlock pointed and barked orders.
"Oh, great. A goblin spellcaster," Nathan muttered, eyes narrowing. "I barely handled one Hobgoblin, and now there's a whole village of them led by that thing?"
[Strategic Analysis: Current Power Level Inadequate for Direct Assault. Recommended Actions:]
Scout the Perimeter – Identify Weak Points in Palisade.
Gather Resources – Weapons, Traps, Allies.
Plan Ambush – Eliminate Scouts First, Reduce Numbers.
"I was afraid you'd say that," Nathan said, rubbing his forehead. "So, what? I'm supposed to sneak around and hope they don't spot the seven-foot-tall skeleton ninja tiptoeing through their backyard?"
The AI remained silent, which, in a way, was even more unsettling.
Nathan exhaled slowly, his eye sockets locked onto the Goblin Warlock below. It was barking orders at a group of hobgoblins, who dragged a small, terrified goblin toward the center of the camp. The little goblin whimpered and squirmed, but the hobgoblins held it fast.
"What the hell are they doing...?"
The warlock raised its staff, and a sickly green glow enveloped the small goblin. The creature screamed as its body contorted, growing larger, its eyes glazing over as it thrashed in pain. The hobgoblins released it, and the newly transformed goblin stumbled forward, its muscles bulging, teeth elongated into tusks.
"Oh... they're making more hobgoblins," Nathan whispered, horror clawing through him.
The AI pinged with another notification.
[Mission Update: Stop the Goblin Warlock's Rituals. Prevent the Creation of New Hobgoblins.]
Nathan swallowed, his jawbone clicking against his upper skull. "Okay. This just got a whole lot worse."
He crouched lower, eyeing the village, his mind racing. The goblin village was bigger than he'd expected, more organized, and now he knew they had a spellcaster capable of transforming goblins into even more dangerous enemies.
"I need a plan. And maybe some better weapons," he muttered, glancing at the rusty shortsword at his side.
But as he watched the warlock raise its staff again, he couldn't shake the feeling that time was running out.
----------
The battlefield was a mess of trampled grass and blood-soaked earth. Smoke drifted lazily in the air, carrying the scent of burnt flesh and the acrid tang of dark magic.
A lone goblin sprinted through the underbrush, its ragged breaths coming in sharp, desperate gasps. Behind it, the thundering of armored boots grew closer, drowning out its whimpers.
"Form up!"
The command rang out, sharp and authoritative. Sir Aelric Draemos, Captain of the Silver Lion Knights, raised his sword high, the blade gleaming with enchanted runes. Even smeared with goblin blood, he cut an imposing figure: tall and broad-shouldered, his silver armor emblazoned with the emblem of a roaring lion. His dark, weathered face was set in a stern scowl beneath a close-cropped beard, and his storm-gray eyes scanned the battlefield with steely focus.
"Push forward! Don't let them scatter!"
At his order, the foot soldiers surged forward, shields locked, spears thrusting like a single iron wall.
"They're retreating!"
Sir Gareth Caine, Vice-Captain, strode up beside Aelric, his armor stained with goblin ichor. Unlike Aelric, Gareth was wiry and agile, with sandy blond hair slicked back and a perpetual, lopsided grin. His sword spun in his hand as he cut down a hobgoblin that lunged at them, its crude axe deflected effortlessly by Gareth's swift counter.
"Retreating?" Gareth scoffed. "Looks more like they're running scared. Hobgoblins don't run."
Aelric's jaw clenched. "They do if something worse is waiting for them."
Gareth's grin faded. He knew Aelric well enough to recognize the grim set of his jaw—the look he got before a storm broke.
"Advance!" Aelric bellowed.
The Silver Lions marched forward, their formation precise. The foot soldiers drove their spears into the hobgoblins, their cries a relentless battle hymn. Mages at the rear chanted in unison, their staves crackling with lightning that arced through the air, searing goblin flesh and reducing their crude weapons to molten slag.
Gareth leapt forward, dancing through the fray. His blade flashed in a whirlwind, slicing through hobgoblins like paper. His movements were almost too quick to follow, his agility a stark contrast to Aelric's heavy, implacable strength.
"Gareth!" Aelric called. "Leave one alive!"
Gareth nodded, sidestepped a lunging goblin, and swung his sword with precision. The goblin's arm flew off, the creature collapsing to the ground with a screech.
Aelric approached the downed goblin, his armored boot pressing down on its chest. "Where is your master? Who commands you?"
The goblin spat blood, glaring up at Aelric with hate-filled eyes. "Master? No master! We free!"
Aelric's eyes darkened. "You don't have the brains to organize this on your own." He pressed harder, the goblin's chest creaking beneath the weight of his boot.
"Something's wrong here," Gareth said, nudging a fallen hobgoblin with his boot. "These things don't usually have dark mana coursing through them."
Aelric knelt, his gauntleted hand hovering over a hobgoblin's corpse. The stench of decaying magic wafted up, and black tendrils of smoke curled from the creature's mouth.
"Dark mana," Aelric muttered. "But why? And from where?"
Gareth frowned. "Think it's related to the reports from the capital? They said the necromancer cult was moving further south."
Aelric's expression hardened. "The Queen's Council insisted they were contained in the Shadow Marches. They were wrong."
Gareth's jaw tightened. "The Queen's Council is full of pompous nobles who haven't seen the battlefield in years. They sit on their silk cushions and think they can dictate the flow of war."
Aelric shot him a sharp look. "Mind your tongue. Lord Roderic is on that council, and he's no fool."
Gareth snorted. "Lord Roderic? The same man who pushed for your promotion? The one who's always whispering in the Queen's ear?"
Aelric's glare was warning enough. "Watch yourself, Gareth."
Gareth held up his hands in mock surrender. "Just saying. If dark mana's leaking out here, and if necromancers are back in play, then the council needs to know they're wrong. Again."
Aelric rose to his full height, towering over the goblin. "We need to find the source. These hobgoblins didn't just stumble into dark magic. Someone's arming them. Someone powerful."
"Sir!"
A young soldier jogged over, saluting sharply. His armor was splattered with goblin blood, and his face was pale. "The scouts found a trail leading into the forest. Goblin tracks, headed north."
Aelric nodded. "Leave one goblin alive. The rest? Hunt them down. I want no survivors."
The soldier saluted and rushed off.
Gareth stepped up beside Aelric, his expression more serious now. "You're thinking necromancers, aren't you?"
"I'm thinking we don't have enough men to handle a necromancer," Aelric said, eyes fixed on the dark forest. "But that warlock we interrogated said something about a ritual site. If that site is near here..."
"We need to find it," Gareth said. "Before they can raise more hobgoblins."
Aelric glanced over his shoulder, eyes sweeping the battlefield. The corpses of goblins and hobgoblins lay scattered, black smoke curling from their bodies as the dark mana dissipated.
"Search the bodies," Aelric commanded. "If they're infused with dark mana, there may be a source nearby. And find that goblin we left alive. It's going to lead us to whoever did this."
Gareth's grin returned, but it was humorless. "Sounds like a plan. But if there are necromancers involved, the council's going to need to know. And fast."
Aelric's face was grim. "Let me worry about the council. You just focus on finding that goblin."
Gareth saluted and jogged off, barking orders to the soldiers.
Aelric watched him go, then looked back at the dark forest, his jaw set in a hard line.
"If the necromancers are here," he muttered, "then we're already too late."