Defeat!

The sky turned black as rain poured onto the grassland, dying the ground red. In every quarter, arrows fell on the approaching goblins. What had been intimidating shouts now turned to screams of panic and agonizing yells.

Chu sighed on the spectacular scene unfolding before his eyes. Bodies dropped, some riddled with bolts like a hedgehog from the repeating crossbows. The wails of death drifted towards his ears, as mouths filled with blood and regret then uttered their last words. A smell reminiscent of iron assailed his nose, while also churning and upsetting his stomach.

A Massacre.

This is the picture of war.

A battlefield is the home of blood and death.

On the internet, broadcasting on the news, or playing video games. Nothing could really prepare someone to live this kind of life. He admired and also pitied those experienced Generals and soldiers throughout history who participated in the past wars.

Continuous baptizing would undoubtedly turn one mad.

In this world, wiping out such a large group without having to lift a finger could twist someone’s logic. He watched some goblins being mowed down by the rapid-firing crossbows. These goblins had rushed towards the farm, not because of an intent to kill, but because they ran for their lives away from the reaping arrows.

Chu believed this life was not for him and certainly not for his friends. He preferred the thrill of hunting and strategizing in small party skirmishes and fighting. A mixture of facing the unknown dangers of the road, or out exploring, only to then return to share his experiences with close friends and family.

He vowed to spend limited time in places like the Nord Pass, the Southern Passage, and Yellow City. Those places were rumored to be the home of endless battles.

His eyes roamed across the bloodbath taking place. A warlord’s life might just turn him into a butcher. Defending themselves was one thing, but continuous participation would warp a person's mind. He owed the children whose hands had been soaked in blood because of following his path.

Now was not the time however, to dwell on morality.

***

Doug focused on the goblins fortunate enough to escape the artillery zone and enter the crossbow range. The tower had two secured repeating crossbows, with two more nailed onto open decking, twenty feet away on either side. He was the leader of this group.

Doug shouted his orders, having the team target goblin archers. His shoulder pained as he remembered his near-death episode. He scanned his marked off sector, pointing out any threat to his crossbowmen. He used a normal crossbow to wound any goblin that made it to the wall.

“Jim take out the two coming in on your left. Oi, little Lin focus on that group running over there, don’t worry bout here. Holler out loud, if you need help.”

Doug ordered. This sector defined by the white colored post on each end of the uncompleted fence indicated the range and area of his crossbows. Beyond that, lay the territory of the artillery squad. The Boss had gone all out in creating an impenetrable defense.

The repeating crossbows swiveled on their stands, as the users simply aimed and fired.

Chu stood on the high ramp, surveying and shouting orders.

“Miki, help Mr. Thomas near that south rampart, there are ten or so goblins approaching his position. Lucy, there are some archers moving towards Jim. Help him out, since he is on an open rampart.”

The two beside him scattered, as Sally climbed up to receive future orders.

Singh looked at the southern edge of the wave that rushed towards his tower. Most had been decimated by the earlier bombardment, but a new wave birthed from the west, as the goblins tried to escape or attack at the south.

“Halter, look there at that large group!”

Halter followed Singh’s shout, squinting to see the group in the encroaching darkness.

“No problem, we have it! Drop by three notches, men.”

The team on the artillery rampart removed a wooden bolt and changed the multishot angle. By the time they finished, Halter had turned the weapon to the general direction of his intended target.

“Ready to fire.”

He shouted.

“Ready to fire.”

Came the reply as everyone dropped to the deck or scampered to the side away from the front. A second after, the swishing sounds of death left the multishot, seeking to harvest souls. Fresh wails and groans soon followed as lucky goblins scampered, while others groaned in agony or slumbered forever.

***

A goblin made it to the western wall, only for his foot to end up trapped between a pair of iron teeth. Another left the bawling companion and skittled over the wall. Dropping down on the other end, the dark green creature whooped while rushing to an old man leaning halfway up a ladder.

The little warrior did not reach far when a tall girl stepped in its path. Rose wasted no time with a cleaving strike aimed for the head. The goblin raised his short sword in reflex but the attack overpowered the thin arms burying the blade in its cranium. Rose pulled the sword with some difficulty from the corpse that slumped to the ground.

The north tower had the most vocal defenders of the battle. Finn shouted and bustled around the platform his eyes red with excitement. If not for Chong keeping him calm, the man might have collapsed from overexertion. Having experienced the world as they always boasted, Chong moved around, easily controlling his subordinates.

Most of the young teens under him were hunting enthusiast, spending their free time roaming the forest with Jim. Using the Zhuge crossbows provided an opportunity to showcase their talent and skill learned from the last few months. Placed on a platform with a superior weapon, panic and fear never entered their minds.

Should problems occur, then their leader would swiftly deal with it.

Who would dream that they would one day stand above the forest, fighting Goblins?

***

Lord Pocong screamed in fear as another buzz filled the sky.

Hearing a tale, and witnessing carnage for himself… The mind of the goblin general swirled as his body remained paralyzed, refusing to move.

How did it come to this?

His plan though not the best because of previous problems could never be grasped by the simple human intellect.

Such dim-witted fools who only knew how to plant crops could never understand the depths of the cunning goblin mind. Yet a simple farm had blown him away like leaves in a storm. Why? His setup had been perfect--

The goblins massed at the forest edge, waiting for his arrival. Amidst victory cries, he had appeared, with the decapitated head of a human tied on his sword. He planned to toss this moral buster, over the walls to strike fear in those well-known timid hearts.

But he failed.

All the pride from the butt-kissers and previous victories had inflated his swollen head.

Of over five hundred fighters and ironsmiths dispatched as the Vanguard army, his current strike force had dwindled to less than three hundred. The kamikaze attack on the cave had butchered his warriors when they fought viciously in the caves and passageways.

Only the support group had fewer fatalities, since they did not engage in the fighting, fleeing instead from the danger. That desperate attack reminded him of the skirmishes between goblin tribes within the forest. Barbaric attacks like those reeked of desperation.

The suicidal attack had the impression that the humans reached the end of their rope. Since he smelled this fear, he marched towards the farm.

Until he witnessed the rain that brought carnage.

Wails echoed out, from all around, failed to reach his ears, since they ended up drowned by Lord Pocong’s own screams.

As a goblin whose experience lay in raiding small farms and inns, he had never encountered true resistance. This carnage opened his eyes to a new nightmare. Over three hundred fighters wiped out in the blink of an eye. Not that Lord Pocong could count that high, but he knew he lost everything.

He used his trembling hand to pull the arrow lodged in his shoulder. Lucky for him, the rain fell heavily at the front, with just a sprinkle reaching the back. That drizzle still reaped lives and injured a few. His eyes open wide in fear, looking at the shadowy structure.

What lay waiting behind that ordinary wooden wall?

Lord Pocong did not remain to see which goblin deserted, nor who instilled a courageous charge. One glance at the effect of the first wave of counterattack from those terrifying defenders had proven that overrunning that place through sheer numbers was just a dream.

The open platforms launched arrows by the thousands while from those closed towers a stream of smaller arrows zipped one behind the next as if archers were firing non-stop. The stragglers who managed to scale the walls, disappeared forever, gobbled up by an unseen devil.

Those goblins charging at the front would soon realize that their companions either ran or dropped dead. Goblin courage relied on numbers, without it, they lost their advantage.

He had not traveled far when another rain of arrows descended with one rooting itself in the back of his foot. The goblin commander toppled to the ground, screaming in pain. Even at this distance the devil hands still fingered him.

He crawled towards the forest, using his large sword as a crutch and pick to pull his body forward.

The insatiable devils were not satisfied… they thirsted for more blood sacrifice.

***

On the rampart near the west gate, a small figure armed with a crossbow consistently fired, wounding or killing enemies who entered within range. The goblins either sought to flee or to mount a spiteful attack as vengeance. For any that managed to scale the walls, Rose and the other fighters dispatched them swiftly.

Lucy's yellow eyes scanned the grassland, finding flaying arms or crawling goblins retreating from the massacre. Among those, her eyes landed on a large figure, crawling away like a worm trying to escape the slaughter aftermath unnoticed.

***

A few goblins rushed by, oblivious to the injured General. One or two passed him while also creeping on the ground, dragging towards the safety of the forest. For the first time in his life, Lord Pocong wished he had a small and agile figure.

He glanced behind, sucking in a breath on the view in the twilight. Groans from twisting bodies, silence from others looking like hedgehogs. Only when he reached the shelter of the trees, did he stop and pull the arrow from his foot.

Like a beggar, he had been forced to crawl from the battlefield, hoping that his large figure would not attract attention among the other screaming and more boisterous deserters. Far from the reach of the arrows, fear prevented him from turning around, to face his conqueror.

Lord Pocong gripped the trunk of the large tree, struggling to stand. He scanned the grasslands now shrouded in darkness, his eyes open to any horrifying chase. He relaxed his tense muscles, as the pain overcame the fear. Trembling he entered the forest.

The Vanguard had fallen.