A crack, seam rather, let loose blinding rays of red-orange light, flooding the interior with shriek foreboding. The light stayed at the top of the seam before jumping down then back up as if a child scanned under their bed for monsters with a flashlight. The light faded for a moment before a breach charge detonated, blowing the massive stone and iron doors off its hinges. The doors made a clear opening as screeches of pain sounded from the inhabitants within its path. Wafts of smoke highlighted the red-orange light, drawing it from single focus to encompassing the entirety of the interior.

A single goblin braved the light, rushing headlong into the unknown. Weapon in hand it pushed blindly until its body suddenly stopped responding. Its vision bleared and shifted as if knocked down, but instead of landing with a thud, it landed with a crunch and splat. The goblin watched as his body continued a few more steps, headless. A glint reflected a ray of light, a sword. Now covered in a thin layer of blood, the sword disappeared into the smoke.

“I count seven!” Someone shouted from beyond the interior.

“Execute.” A distinctly female voice said in a tone calm and collected, but with authority.

Seven arrows, various types and sizes, zipped through the smoke, piercing deep into the fearful goblins. Moments later a soldier entered, confirmed the safety of the room, and left. Minutes after that, three entered. They were different, the previous soldier wore thin stamped metal armor with heavy padded garments under. These three were naked comparatively. One held a magical eye piece and wore scholar clothing. The other two wore all black causing their presence to almost disappear if one did not focus intently on them. The three searched the room, floor to ceiling, retracing each other’s work and eventually conjoining in the center. Each had come to the same conclusion and when the captain strolled in, they said as much.

“They are below. A lot of them.” One of the two wearing black explained.

“Indeed. I can see crude, almost childish ward sketched into this trap door, here.” The scholar emphasized the locations, drawing his fingers across the stone floor like a painter. “The wards were created in haste. I spot multiple obscuring and a single locking formation.”

The last in black said nothing but nodded in agreement when the captain’s gaze fell upon her. “Very well. Can you break the wards?”

“I can, easily so. But it will alert the creator. If I spend more time, I could possibly circumvent the security but no guarantees. Part of creating wards in rapid succession is that they often overlap with each other, meaning one slip on any part could alert a different section.”

“That’s fine, they know we are here.” The captain turned before adding, “Be ready to break the lock when I say so.” She walked out of the stronghold, finding familiar faces waiting to speak with her. She nodded with her head, signaling everyone to follow.

After the success of the initial storming, Lesterwood’s raid team now occupied the once goblin fortress. Multiple witnesses place a large group, likely the actual main goblin forces, entering the centralized strong hold. Whatever they were protecting was worth sacrificing a majority of their weaker population. But goblins were never said to be smart strategists, so the statement held little value for clues into the enemy’s plans. Best guess was that there were protecting their leader, an assumed high leveled [Hexer]. Other guesses suggested large escape tunnels or protection of Divine relics, both could make since. Monsters were known to be smart enough to use tunnels, and some were known to set territories around magical items or minerals. But goblins were not the typical monster.

All in all, the raid team lost a few dozen soldiers. Most of which were a part of their failed stealth operation, team one. From accounts, the hexed Eldritch Goblins were significantly weaker than what Lost Lord Max reported. Unless his spells were borderline powerless, captain Shatterwind, along with the raid’s leadership, assumed the real battle had yet to begin. The [Scholar]’s words confirmed it, a lot of goblins were below the stronghold. The ones left outside the hatch were the unlucky, caught out late and left to die.

As the raid regrouped, healed, rested, and organized their armaments, temporary housing had been set up. No one was sleeping, but the few who were too injured to move needed a place to sit unwarranted from the ridged winds. Healers worked with them, trying to stabilize their wounds before movement, but that would take time. Other tents included a war room, dedicated toilets, ammunition restocking stations, and even a small table where [Cooks] brought wonderous smells to life.

It would be a few hours until the hatch was opened, and, in that time, it would be best if the soldiers didn’t freeze to death. The hot stew was less of a gourmet meal and more of a catalyst for warmth. Of course, that didn’t mean fires weren’t started, runic heaters set up, or even a mage or two turning their skin into portable furnaces. The camp was warm, rightfully so. It was almost mid-winter, meaning the coldest time of the year.

“Warded hatch, leading underground. Looked as though it was created quickly, most like when the [Hexer] realized it had to run.” Olivia Shatterwind spoke to the rest of the raid leadership. She wore the typical female guard captain’s uniform, metal plated armor with orange and purple highlights. Unlike the other captains, her armor was cut specially to accommodate her small but quite noticeable wings. They were teal-cyan and semitransparent but if the legends were true, the small almost frail looking wings were powerful. Not physically, but Sylphs were not physical creatures. They were a magical race, specializing in the air discipline.

“How likely is it they set a trap?” Yel, the Adventure Guild Master asked.

“Very. But the severity of goblin traps has yet to impede us.” Shatterwind was referring to the pit falls set up in the area around the fortress walls. There were a few reported injuries, but no deaths.

“Mmm, I wouldn’t be too sure. The mage I killed was quite powerful. If the [Hexer] has another one of those up its sleeve, then the traps could get pretty deadly.” Bishop spoke up from the back. He and Clammy were the odd two out in the war tent, at least, Clammy was. Bishop had plenty of potential insights about the upcoming final push but as he and the young woman were a part of the only two-person team, her presence was fitting.

So far, Bishop was quite proud of her. There were no points during the initial attack that he ever felt she overextended or risked too much. Not to mention how strong she has gotten in the last few months. The events at Esmel had shone him another side of the princess, a warrior hell bent on the destruction of her enemies Just a few hours ago added to her brutality, solidifying her in Bishop’s mind as a uniquely powerful individual. Gravity magic, while mana intensive, worked like a charm. It was so versatile, so fluid, that most situations could use her.

“That is a factor, yes. But as far as we can tell from your report, it has weak defenses.”

“More or less. One spell killed it, but I’m sure the one spell it cast would have killed me had I not deflected it.”

“I concede the point, but we are working with limited information. We will have to trigger any hidden traps when we open that hatch, the only thing to do is prepare.”

Bishop nodded with the captain’s view. Such was the ways of magic. Only if a specialist was brought along, it would be possible to see beyond the warded door. The magic interference was simply too high to get accurate readings of the dangers within. A stray thought occurred to send a message for Max. He could view things beyond closed doors thanks to his racial, but Bishop disregarded the idea. A mana message could only go so far, without a relay point, someone would be forced to travel partially back to Lesterwood. The timeline just wouldn’t add up fast enough.

“We move in two hours. Bishop, Domic, you two have the strongest shields, find who else can help and have them ready. Yel, have the adventurers ready to go. No injuries allowed. Tell everyone to start praying to Cral.”

Cral, the God of War is known for giving temporary, minor, buffs to armies about to do battle. It is just as likely that he gives buffs to the enemy, however. His interests solely deal with war, meaning he does not care who wins, just how interesting the battle is. Shatterwind hoped that a goblin raid starting with a [Hexer] trap would pique his interest.

Shatterwind held out a single hand. Three fingers were pointed up, rhythmically she lowered them counting aloud as well. Three… Two…. Besides her six mages stood along with six various affinity barriers. The two most prominent were made of lightning and fire. Each were bigger, brighter, thicker, and curved in such a way head on attacks would simply rebound away. Each were intricately woven, as if a master crafter spun a patterned loom. Three significantly small, less powerful shields were overlapped in different spots, catching any area the fire and lightening didn’t. Finally, a unique shield covered the ceiling, finishing off a bottle cap of abjuration magic. The last shield was made of shimmering air, but no air magic was used. A singular point, square with the trap door, was being pushed downwards, hard. Gravity magic.

One… Shatterwind echoed. The [Scholar] in charge of breaking the ward collapsed his palm on a string of wards of his own design. A simple connection line brought his script together with the hatch, breaking the goblin made lock. Originally, he wasn’t going to break the lock in such ways, but after a somber discussion with the guard captain, his fears of death by goblin trap skyrocketed. This way there would be a slight delay from when he broke the ward allowing him to move out of the way. Good thing he did as the hatch detonated.

With forces large enough to push the hatch partway up the height of the stronghold, the trap door exploded up. A heartbeat later, the force died causing the door to fall back with increased power as the gravity shield did its job. The hatch clipped the ground, bouncing with deadly reverence before being completely stopped by the bottlecap formation. A second later the real trap activated, sickly green mana fractured the air. The beam pierced straight through Clammy’s magic as if it was tall grass against a tank. The projectile suddenly split; miniature stars shot out bouncing off the bottlecap. Cracks appeared in the formation, forcing Shatterwind to fill the holes. Air hardened as if concrete had aged for a week, sealing any weak spot before they fully formed.

The stars faded moments later. The two lesser experienced mages had a sudden and harsh realization. They were almost turned into mincemeat. The spell was supposed to act as a blender, killing everything inside the stronghold. Clammy wondered why her spell had no effect. As far as she was aware, mana reacted to gravity like everything else. Even after the initial beam split, her magic did nothing. The stars ran their course unimpeded by her.

The room suddenly became hot, very hot. A small, basketball sized sun bloomed into existence. As the temperatures raised to uncomfortable levels, the air seemed to sweat. Cold days mixed with deadly heat produced sudden and interesting results. Only the caster of such spell was immune to the distressing effects. Domic’s eyes burned with flames as his mana system pumped to keep up with the high demand. His red skin deepened in color, turning from a dull scarlet to a magma red. A puff of flame appeared between his horns just as he tossed the sun down the open hole.

As the room was too hot for anyone but the Flame Devil, only he heard the agonizing screams from below. He was well used to death cries of melting skin and bone. He had become numb to the sound, not because he was sadistic, but because he had to. He would have gone mad over the years if he had found some way not to ignore the sounds. A few seconds later, the cold air reentered the building and the screams stopped. Whoever was down there was dead, unconditionally dead.

Domic stared off in the distance, his eyes reading something only he could see, “My mana will be back in about twelve minutes. I’m just under half capacity.”

Clammy, who is rather ignorant of high level magics, was shell shocked. Not because of the heat, or class of power, but because the miniature sun altered gravity. It was subtle, she guessed Domic didn’t even realize it, but she definitely felt it.

“Good, how long until it burns out?” Shatterwind asked as Yel peered hesitantly over the edge. She reared back as the heat almost singed her fur.

“I would give it five minutes. Everyone got a heat resistance potion ready? We don’t want to wait too long otherwise the goblins would have time to set another trap.”

“That’s assuming there isn’t more traps already in place.” Yel added.

“I would hope my spell would disarm anything already set.”

“I would too, but we can’t be too careful.” Shatterwind said, “Only those with potions can come during the first wave. Everyone else will have to wait until the air becomes suitable.”

A pair of deep orange potions appeared in Bishop’s scaled hand. He handed one to Clammy before chugging the content of the other. “Takes it a few minutes to kick in.” He explained. “Tastes like burnt apple, also.”

The room fell silent at his words, not because what he said was wrong or strange. In fact, it was rather accurate since one of the main ingredients was charred Frozen Budapples. The room fell silence simply because there was nothing to discuss. They were preparing for battle, the only one needing to speak was Shatterwind and she was outside explaining the orders to the main forces. Clammy sighed deeply, the taste of burnt apples making a comeback.

“Domic? Can I ask you a question about your spell?”

Domic’s eyes widened in surprise, “Sure, I love to talk about magic.” He said with a bit of extra cheer, mainly due to the gloom situation.

“I felt gravity distort in the center of your sun.”

“…What?” Not just Domic was confused, Yel, Bishop, the [Scholar], and two other mages in the room looked at her as if her head had enlarged.

“It was minute, very subtle, but it did change. Everything in a short distance around the spell was being pulled in. I thought it was my shield acting up, but I had made sure to remove it before you started.”

“Pulled in, you say? The spell works by compressing a large amount of flame into a singular small area, maybe that has something to do with it?” Domic said, thumping his finger against his chin.

“Ugh. This is a Max question, isn’t it?” Clammy hated asking Max questions. Not because she found his answers wrong or condescending, but because they were always hard to understand. He once tried to explain what fission and fusion was but had to stop after the third diagram drawing. Clammy always felt dumb after a lecture from the Lost Lord, even though she knew she was more educated than most mages. Max’s knowledge was otherworldly after all.

Domic nodded in agreement. He, on the other hand, loved discussing random tidbits of information with Max. The stuff he said, the insights he had? Borderline revolutionary. Hells, it was revolutionary. Domic was ignorant of the reason behind the New Age, but he had guesses. It wasn’t every day a mysterious gathering of Healers attended a lecture by a tier one. But now was not the time to think about that. He stretched his magic senses, feeling down the now open hole. It was warm, deadly so, but with the potion it would be as if one traveled through the desert with nothing more than a light shade.

“Ready!” The Flame Devil yelled to Shatterwind.

Domic found himself and Bishop staging the front of eighteen others as they walked down the cave the hatch led to. Around them charred stone mixed with fresh living matter ash wrapped around in a narrow walkway. Their ranks were cramped together, not from necessity of size constraints but because the smell of sweat and musk outweighed the smell of burning flesh and bone. Remnants of a now burned down ladder were all that was left of a possible escape. Small rivet holes along with telltale signs of magical interference showed that the tunnel was created rather than naturally formed. Domic, and his countless hours of study, decided the artificial cave was created by a [Stone Mage] of sorts. At least tier two, but he guessed that if he investigated deeper, he would find aspects of a true master. Which worried him.

They traveled for what felt like forever, away from the superheated air and ghastly smell. No traps had been found, but the task force-maintained protocols just in case. Eventually they found a forward patrol. Six goblins, already hexed into Eldritch, were expertly dispatched before they even had a chance to sound an alarm. The goblins, however, did require a bit more finesse to silence. Not only were their bones stronger, but they seemed smarter. They dodged and fought back with a distinctive style, almost as if they were newbie initiates within a fighting academy.

Continuing along the route, it was made apparent why this cave was created. The artificially carved stone turned darker, wetter, and colder, signaling to the leadership the location of where the cave lied. Distant sounds of echoing rushing water confirmed that the cave was under Lesterwood’s river, or perhaps under Lesterwood itself. They wouldn’t know for sure, not until a [Geomancer] was brought out, but Lesterwood had the only source of water large enough to support a cavern this size.

Before them a massive, multilayered void filled with dripping water creating large stalagmite structures. Lights bounced off the damp surfaces, flickering with the fiery sources illuminating the lower sections of the rock. Through the center, a small narrow river passed clean and pure. Goblin tents and structures had been constructed with great scrutiny, almost as if they had housing associations. From the higher layer the raid team entered from, they could see almost everything.

To the far end, where the water dipped back into the ground through a hole too small to enter, a shrine was formed. Carved into the stone, a depiction of Cazdis, the Goddess of the Eldritch. She stood, an amalgamation of different races, atop a pile of skeletons. In her hand a decapitated skull actively dripping with thick red liquid. Each drop was being collected by a series of crude jugs, each overflowing with the blood. The statue wore a crown made of Divine Power, which twisted and warped when looked at.

As each member of the raid looked over the situation below, they lingered their gaze on the crown. Something, deep in the back of their minds, spoke clear as day. Destroy it. The crown was calamity, the only cure for such an aliment was death. Hatred and misery seemed to pour from the crown like a thick palpable aura, reminding everyone they stood before a God’s shrine. Churches were notorious for their long-lasting might. Wars have decimated civilizations before, total destruction in its wake, but Churches still stood. The powers that were worshipped in such places simply would not let their grace die.

A notification appeared in each of the raid members, above and below.

Divine Quest: Destroy the Shrine of the Goddess of Extermination.

Reward: ???

A single breath pasted before a second notification appeared.

God of War, Cral, has blessed this battle with a sacred word: Eradication

You stand before the God of War. Do battle in his name for his will is fire

All Mana costs are 25% less

All attack spells are 30% more powerful

Type: Buff, Temporary

Source: Cral

Do not let this insult of a shrine stand

As the raid members read over the blue boxes, a single Drake was scouting below with empowered eyes. Bishop have had his share of Divine quests before, even a few blessings from the God of War, but not once did he ever feel this amount of urgency from the powers above. Thirty percent was a considerable amount, an incredible amount even, but it was from the God of War, meaning only one thing. The goblins shared in such wonders.