Bearpaw and his tribe had now reached the coast. They had been traveling for a week now and it had been uneventful, apart from the fact that one, his [Shaman] Rafa was now almost done becoming a Hobgoblin. Two, he had leveled up in his [Chieftain] class again two days ago, but he had gained no new skills. His tribe made good progress with [Rapid March]. It was an incredible asset to have on a large continent like Irasal, although the Goblins didn't have names for continents.

"Ocean! Ocean!"

The younger Goblins in his small tribe looked very happy. It was the first time seeing the ocean for many here. A few Goblins went to take a dip in the waters of northern Irasal, but they were instantly turned off the thought after one of them almost drowned after being swept by a wave. Some even tried drinking the water, not knowing that it was in fact, salty. However, they were smiling.

Even Bearpaw smiled. Goblins usually didn't have fun. There was no time for fun when you were being hunted by a Giant Bear and adventurers considered you as just another step towards glory. The activity was short-lived however, as the [Chieftain] yelled at his tribe. They had to go.

East. Goblins wouldn't do well here. There was no forest and no hills. It was all flatlands, and Bearpaw had never heard of Goblins doing well at sea. None of the Goblins knew why their [Chieftain] wanted to go east. In fact, he didn't really know either, but it was either that or the south.

To his north was– well, the ocean, and to his knowledge, no Goblin had ever built these wooden structures the Humans made to float on water. And to the west was the largest mountain range on the continent that the 'civilized' races called mount Varlen, or just Varlen for short. He decided east because he had just come from the south. He and his tribe could walk along the coast and send a few dozen Goblins to hunt every day. Bearpaw's problem, however, was that he had heard of the cities along the coast. The cities of death and pain. The cities that killed them.

He had not seen or sensed another tribe in this entire journey. Bearpaw was worried that all of Goblins had been wiped out. The Humans were never kind, and they had been hunted for thousands of years.

"[Rapid March]"

His tribe groaned. Even if his skill made them go faster overall, they used more energy to move. That is something Bearpaw had learned. But he had to push them. To make them level. They were all still too weak, and he itched for a fight.

He got his fight a few hours later when he came across a team of four adventurers. They were hunting blue looking slimes. Bearpaw had seen slimes before, but only green ones. He was confused, but he snapped back to reality when he heard the Humans scream. They were probably a new team if they were killing low-risk monsters like slimes, and they had probably never seen a Hob in their life. Indeed, in this day and age, finding a Hobgoblin was harder than finding a needle in a haystack, and the number of Goblins was dwindling in general– or at least on this part of Irasal. However, once they were mighty. He knew the stories. Everyone did. They were passed on from generation to generation. From one tribe to the next. Once, Hobs were as common as grains of sand on a beach. Once.

Not anymore. The four adventurers were running now, but Bearpaw wouldn't let them. He couldn't. The [Chieftain] bellowed.

"Rafa!"

"Yes, [Chieftain]!"

Multiple balls of fire– not to be confused with the actual spell [Fireball], flew towards the fleeing adventurers. The panicked Humans didn't look back when they ran, and they were all suddenly hit by fire on their back. All of them collapsed.

All except one. She kept running for her life. Rafa kept firing more spells, but she was too far now. Bearpaw cursed. This would endanger the tribe greatly.

The other Goblins stopped cheering when they saw the look on his face. They were confused. Wasn't killing the Humans and making them run good? It showed the might of their [Chieftain] and their tribe!

"Not good."

"Sorry, [Chieftain]. New body. Aim not so good."

Bearpaw nodded. He understood how awkward moving around or fighting after your growth spurt could be. He explained his problem to his tribe.

"Last Human run. Not good. Will tell others."

The truth dawned upon them. Low-level adventurers meant that there was a city nearby and a city... being close to a Human city meant death for a Goblin. A painful, cornered death.

He couldn't stay here. They had to go inland now as fast as possible. No city would let a tribe with two Hobgoblins roam free. They would hunt them down on their horses and kill them until no one was left.

And so they marched inland. Inland towards safety. Towards a new home.

Towards an army.

-------------------------------

Towards the south, an army was marching as fast as they could. Straight towards Winsor. Along with them rode their [General], or more precisely their [Lord General]. He was a lord of Draele, as his class indicated, and his name was Maximilian Largus, or Max for short, but only his wife called him that way. To his army, he was just [Lord General] Largus, and the Lord part was important. He was the pride of the house of Largus, one of the largest in Draele, and he had been hand-picked by [Prince] Jonas, the eldest son of [Emperor] Vitelius himself. This was a job he could not fail.

He could not fail. He kept telling himself that on the march. Wiping this petty rebellion would earn him the respect of the second most important man in the Empire.

His force numbered twenty thousand men, which would be more than enough. They were all [Soldiers] of course, and not petty [Warriors]. These men were disciplined. They were his elite force, right out of New Draele, along with a few thousand new recruits. These new recruits always lagged behind, which irritated him.

"Hurry up men! Winsor calls for aid, and we must reach the city before it falls!"

His men groaned. Of course, he could wipe out their fatigue with one of his skills, but he was waiting for the right moment to use it. It took around three days before he could use it again.

The sky was darkening, not because night was falling, but because it would rain soon. The [Weather Mages] had told him so before he left. The rain made the spring ground muddy and hard to move in, which is why he needed to cover as much ground as possible before it started.

"[Lord General] Maximillian."

"[Lord] Phillip. What is it this time."

Phillip Hauser was the second Lord on this mission. Maximillian had not thought or seen him in the past four hours, which had pleased him greatly.

"Our men are tired. Let them rest for the day. We've been marching since dawn and–"

"My men are fine. We must get to Winsor, lest you desire a siege."

"It will not get to that point. The city will not fall, the city guard is–"

"Incompetent. Have you seen the reports? They let this... this gang fester for years, [Lord] Phillip. Years! [Prince] Jonas will have his head."

"I do not think so. The [Message] spells we have gotten are all of positive nature. If we exhaust the men they will not be at their full potential when we arrive!"

"Those [Messages] are lies, [Lord] Phillip. Petty lies! If we do not reach the city within a week, it will fall. Mark my words."

"I assure you..."

That was the nature of their relationship. They had spent the entire time bickering out of New Draele bickering. Each time one did something, the other opposed it, not out of good judgment, but out of spite and rivalry.

Both Maximillian Largus and Phillip Hauser had gone to the best military training school in New Draele, and during their stay there, they had been bitter rivals. From teenagehood to adulthood they competed, until their graduation. The [Prince] did not care, and they could not refuse his orders. That would be like refusing the orders of the [Emperor] himself.

During their reunion, however, Phillip had found out that Maximillian's classes merged, and his did not. This generally meant that the System was acknowledging the former as the better [General]. Having two classes merge was better than having them stay separate. This was all common knowledge.

He felt the first raindrops now, and he ordered one of his [Mage] units to cast a [Magic Veil] spell on him, which protected him from the water. He saw Phillip do the same.

[Lord General] Largus looked back at his men from his horse. They were all in heavy armor, and now that he looked closer, they did look tired. He knew deep inside that Phillip was right. The men needed the rest. He lifted his hand up.

"Hold. We will take a two-hour break here. Bring out the tents."

And so they did, and Phillip looked at him sympathetically. After around twenty minutes, they were set up, and the twenty thousand men could finally rest, even if most of them were drenched.

Their rest was short-lived however, as Maximillian Largus heard multiple screams from the edges of the camp.

"Goblins! Goblins to our west!"

-------------------------------

Bearpaw was panicking. In front of him was... thousands of Humans. An army! Why were they here? Had they heard about them? No. They had been discreet up until now, and not enough time had passed. This spelled disaster for the tribe. He saw the Human [Soldiers] take arm.

"Run. We run!"

They had no choice. Going up against a force this large was suicide and not even he could make it out alive. And so they ran.

But the Humans on their horses were faster. He tried to activate [Rapid March] but it had a limit. He could only use it once per day. He had been foolish to use it so freely. The riders were almost at the edge of his tribe's rear now. They could not escape.

His goblins started getting cut down. They had no chance. They were too small compared to men on horses. Could he buy them time by himself? Maybe with Rafa? He had no time to think. Every second spent thinking was another five dead Goblins. He turned and roared.

Some Humans kept going. Most froze. That was how you could tell who had seen a Hobgoblin in their lives. He still had his sword he stole from one of the adventurers back in his forest. He was a [Chieftain], but he was also a [Warrior]. He had no choice. He would protect them.

His name was Bearpaw, the [Chieftain] of the Deepwoods tribe.

And he would die to defend it.

-------------------------------

A few miles away, a [Scout] rode back to his party, to report back what he had seen.

"Did you find anything?"

"I found 'em."

Esme saw Kayden frown. He kept going.

"I found 'em, but... they're fighting monsters."

One of the [Scouts] interjected.

"Oh. What kind? Did they see you? And did you see how many there were so we can go back already? I don't want to be anywhere near this army."

"A Goblin tribe. They didn't see me. I stayed far and I used my skill. I couldn't approximate well though, I don't have a skill for that."

"Well, I do. Lead the way."

And so they rode.