Esme was riding as fast as she could on her horse. She was following Kayden towards the supposed army that was on their way to Winsor. The [Thief] was, unfortunately, struggling to keep up. She almost fell off multiple times in the last ten minutes, that was how fast they were going. But that wasn't the only reason. Esme had, of course, never ridden a horse in her entire life! No one back on Earth rode horses, or at least not in large metropolitan cities.

"Damn horse..."

She hated the horse, but Esme also disliked most animals. She had been attacked multiple times by dogs or seagulls as a young girl, and plus, she was allergic do dog and cat fur. But horses were now the fastest method of transportation in this world, or at least the fastest one that she knew of. She wondered about flying spells and their speed, or teleportation spells. What level did you have to be to perform such a feat? The [Thief] had seen Edali fly a few times, but she could not do it for long. It mattered little to Esme however. She was not a [Mage].

She was a [Rogue] of course, although a young inexperienced one. Kayden had been teaching her the ropes and she was apparently leveling incredibly fast, and so was Hannah. Esme did not know why, and nobody did. Well, she had an inkling of why, but it didn't make sense.

Esme did not have time to think about it, however, as her mentor suddenly stopped and she almost crashed her horse into his, but luckily the beast had stopped first. And there she saw them.

Thousands upon thousands of men, filling the prairie below her. Esme had never seen such a large army before. In fact she had never seen an army period. It disturbed her. But they weren't alone. They were killing... people?

Esme squinted. Now that she looked closer she noticed that these were the Goblins the other [Scout] had talked about. It was her first time seeing them, but they were just like in the movies and games. From afar, she could tell they were all around four feet tall, but of course some were taller or smaller than the norm. And two were... huge. They were at least... no they were seven feet tall, and the one with the sword was taller still. He was charging into the cavalry, killing both [Soldiers] and horses alike. The other huge Goblin was using magic, throwing fireballs at her enemies, burning them to a crisp. Esme winced. She was still far, far enough to not be seen, but she could still hear the screams of men burning alive.

But she also heard the Goblins do the same. It was surreal like she was in a dream. She heard the [Scouts] muttering around her but she could not take her eyes off the battle. It was so one sided and yet the Goblins fought. Their corpses littered the ground, fighters and children alike. Their screams filling the air. Their pain so familiar.

"Esme."

"W-what? Oh."

Kayden was looking at her strangely.

"You okay? You look... stressed out?"

"Shouldn't we help them? The Goblins."

"What? They're just Gobs. Pests. We're done here, let's go."

"I thought you had to count?"

"Ricky used his skill. [Efficient Headcount] right? It's a nice one for a [Scout]. There's twenty thousand and five hundred of them down there and I don't want to stay any longer than I have to."

"Oh. Alright, bu–"

"It's a good thing the green fuckers were there though. Good distraction."

Slowly they all started leaving, and soon enough they were all gone. All of them except Esme. She looked back one more time and– they were mostly all dead. All except a few dozen and the two Hobs. It was over for them. Maybe Kayden was right. After all, they're monsters. They probably killed many innocents over their lives.

That's what Esme told herself, but it still left a bad taste in her mouth.

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

The sound of screams filled Bearpaw's ears. Still, he did not stop fighting, and he felt tears well up in his eyes as he cut another [Soldier] in two.

"[Heavy Slash]!"

Another scream. This time right next to him. Another one of his Goblins dead. He roared and stabbed the culprit in the head. His sword's edge was dulled now, and the Humans were still piling onto them. How many had he killed? Twenty? Thirty? And still, it did not matter. Nothing did. They would die here. It was over.

And yet he fought. His entire tribe did. He did not raise them to be cowards! They would make the Humans bleed.

But his numbers were dwindling, and he only had... five... seven goblins left. Eight counting himself.

"Rafa! Fire spell!"

Rafa looked at him and shook her head. He understood instantly. Goblins didn't need to say many words to understand each other. She was out of mana.

He looked around him. His kin was dead, and for what? This army had not heard of them before, why were they killing them? He cut down another Human blocking his way and moved towards Rafa. They were the only two left now. He felt like he was about to collapse from blood loss.

No words were spoken in those few seconds, but they felt like years. Bearpaw was telling Rafa to run, and Rafa was refusing. In fact, she was telling him to run.

It made some sense to him. Logically speaking, he could have made a mad dash and burst through the line of Humans, but he felt like it was too late. And a [Chieftain] never ran away from his tribe.

Bearpaw sighed. He wished his tribe had not died in vain. He wished he could have stayed in the forest near that Human city. He had many wishes, and no way to fulfill them.

Rafa's throat was slit. Bearpaw readied himself and closed his eyes.

This was it.

But then a desire overtook him. A primal one. Fight or flight. Survive. Energy coursed through his veins and he felt like none of the wounds on his body were even there. His head was pounding with a single desire, to live. And he would try his best to do so, not only for himself, but for his entire tribe. He would not let them die in vain. He would not let this battle be meaningless, like the thousands of dead [Chieftains] that preceeded him.

He felt a sword stab his back, but it was not painful. He could not feel anything at all. Only the metal touching his flesh. He muttered one sentence, in a language he had never spoken. But he knew some words that he had learned over the six years he had lived. All the Humans that came to hunt him did not stay silent. Over time he had amassed this knowledge.

"I must live."

The Human [Soldiers] were stunned. A Goblin speaking?! That was impossible! And yet he did. It was far from perfect, and he butchered the pronunciation, but they understood him.

And that moment of surprise was all he needed. He dashed and knocked over the frozen Humans. A few tried to stop him using skills, but he just batted their swords aside with his hands, which were more of a bloody stump at this point.

But he was succeeding. Alarmingly so to the Humans. His legs were burning, but he had to keep running. The moment he stopped he would collapse. He leaped towards a man, who flinched, and he grabbed him like he was nothing, using him as a meat shield. He was almost out now. But then he heard something.

"[Piercing shot]."

An arrow suddenly found itself lodged in his right eye. He let go of the [Soldier] he was holding and cried out in pain. Somehow he was still alive. The [Archer] unit of the army had arrived, and they were bombarding him with arrows. Still, he ran.

And then he was out. Out of the encirclement of [Soldiers] and [Riders]. Free at last! But he kept running as fast as he could. He could not stop now. The [Riders] on their horses were still following him.

Bearpaw heaved. His lungs– no, his entire body was on fire, and he only had one healing potion. Suddently however, the men on their horses stopped and turned back, and their [General] shouted something that Bearpaw could not understand at this distance. But he did not stop here.

He ran for hours.

And hours.

The [Chieftain] collapsed near a river. Bearpaw did not remember which way he had gone in his folly for survival. He barely had the strenght to uncork the potion he had stolen from an adventurer before leaving the forest. Where would he pour it? His eye was all but destroyed at this point, and he wasn't sure if the potion would work on it. He could drink it, which would recover his entire body, but less so and more slowly than if he poured it directly on a wound.

He decided to drink some of it, even if he had difficulty swallowing. That is how tired he was. The rest would be for his eye.

Bearpaw crawled towards the river and lowered his head to the water to drink and wash away the foul taste of the potion. Indeed, healing potions did not taste good, and neither did any potion. Bearpaw had no idea what they were made of, but he wished they tasted better.

He slowly sat up and plucked arrows from his body to let the potion do its work. But then came his right eye. Bearpaw couldn't see anything using it. He had to take it off now, but the amount of pain he was in from simply closing his eyelid or touching the arrow was immense. He would have to pull it in one go.

One.

Two...

Three!

He pulled the arrow as fast as he could and he felt like killing himself. He screamed and thrashed around, clutching his head tightly. His eye was leaking, and it was not healing from the potion he drank. He took the remaining amount of liquid and poured it on his eye as precisely as he could.

Nothing happened.

Bearpaw uttered a curse. This potion wasn't good enough! But the pain was slowly getting better at least. He limped over to a tree and leaned against it, slowly sliding to the ground. He couldn't see, but he could... notice what was bright and what wasn't. His right eye was now useless. This would be a huge disadvantage in battle.

But at least he lived. He closed his eyes and passed out.

[Chieftain Class Deactivated]

[Skill - Commanding Presence Lost]

[Skill - Rapid March Lost]

[Skill - Efficient Tribe Lost]

[Skill - Battle Sense Lost]

[Skill - Tribe Tracking Lost]

[Warrior: Level 14]

[Skill - Sword Proficiency Obtained]

[Skill - Fury Strikes Obtained]

[Skill - Long Dash Obtained]

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

Back at the Human camp, [Lord General] Maximillian Largus was in his tent assessing the damage done to his army along with [Lord] Phillip Hauser.

"Three hundred and forty-seven dead. To a single insignificant Goblin tribe! I can't believe this. It's a disaster [Lord General] Maximillian. A complete and utter disaster!"

"Yes, I must agree, the number of wounded is still being counted. We underestimated this tribe."

"We?! You did this! I told you not to charge in and to just scare them away! If you had not been so reckless–"

"How could I have known that it would be so costly? I was taught to fight against Drakes, not Goblins!"

Maximillian slammed the table and threw the piece of parchment in the air.

"We must not report this. [Prince] Jonas will be furious! Such humiliation! We go on as planned."

"What of the wounded, [Lord General]? We do not have the means to carry men who cannot walk."

"Well find a way then!"

Phillip stormed out of the tent. Maximillian was furious. This was supposed to be the start of his tale as a famous general like the ones in New Draele! How could he, a level 23 [Lord General] lose to a few Goblins?

Those two Hobs had ruined everything. He wished he could have killed the second one, but Phillip had made him doubt himself! How had he dared! He, a simple [General] should have just let him do his work.

But with some luck, the Hobgoblin had died of blood loss. No monster could survive what he had been through. He hoped he would level tonight.

The next day, they started marching towards Winsor once again.