Not long after Damon departed, an organized group of goblins arrived, led by three war trolls. The goblins at the front were scouts and trackers, moving with practiced caution.
The scouts stepped over shrubs, reaching the small clearing, their bones sensitive to even the faintest changes in the air. As soon as they sniffed the air, they recoiled in disgust.
"Kekekeke! Tertetetete... stink... eeeeiiie!"
They screeched in irritation, their gnarled fingers pointing toward the tree line. The strong scent of perfu in the air overwheld their sensitive noses.
So of the scouts turned their attention to the battlefield where their brethren had been slain. Their eyes darted over the bloodstains and battle scars left behind—yet there were no corpses. The bodies had vanished, leaving only the remnants of a struggle.
Realizing sothing was wrong, they quickly retreated to the three war trolls standing nearby to make their report.
The war trolls were monstrous in size, towering over the goblins at nearly three ters tall. Their explosive muscles bulged beneath their pale brown skin, which was covered in loincloths and crude armor—a battered heart guard and thick shoulder plates barely held together by rusted chains.
Each troll wielded a massive club, except for the one in the center, who gripped a huge battle axe in its enormous hands. Despite their savage appearance, there was intelligence gleaming behind their nacing eyes.
They weren't just brutes.
They were thinking. Calculating.
And now, they were hunting.
The leader of the war trolls stepped into the clearing, his massive fra casting a shadow over the smaller goblins. His nostrils flared as he sniffed the air, his sharp senses analyzing the battlefield. His gaze locked onto sothing dangling from the trees—Damon's scarecrow.
With a powerful leap, he snatched it from the air, bringing it close to his face to inspect it. His thick brow furrowed in confusion before his expression twisted in disgust.
A sickly-sweet wave of perfu and costics assaulted his nostrils.
"Grraaaagh!" he snarled in fury, crushing the scarecrow in his powerful grip.
That single act triggered a devastating chain reaction.
A clay pot hidden inside the scarecrow shattered, releasing a swarm of angry hornets. The first thing the enraged insects saw was the war trolls and goblins.
The goblins shrieked as the swarm attacked without hesitation, their stingers piercing flesh and sending them into a frenzied panic. The trolls, though more resistant, still staggered under the sheer number of venomous stings.
But that wasn't the worst of it.
As the leader yanked the scarecrow's remains, he unintentionally pulled a rope, setting off another trap. Branches cracked and snapped above them, sending down a massive cluster of sandwood fruits.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Each fruit exploded on impact, its seeds blasting outward at 150 mph, ripping into goblin flesh like miniature bullets. Goblins scread, scrambling for cover, but there was none to be found.
And then the logs fell.
Massive spiked logs, disguised among the trees, swung down like battering rams. So goblins were crushed instantly, their bodies splattered against the ground. Others were impaled, writhing in agony as blood pooled beneath them.
The war troll leader, Tusk, waved his hand in irritation, swatting at the hornets buzzing around his face. Their stings left deep welts, but his regeneration was already closing them.
The explosions finally subsided, leaving behind a battlefield of wounded, dying, and furious goblins.
But the war trolls weren't as weak as their underlings.
They were enraged.
One of the goblins, in a desperate bid to escape the chaos, sprinted past Tusk. Bad idea.
A massive hand shot out, grabbing the goblin by the torso. The red-skinned creature flailed in terror, his limbs kicking uselessly in the air.
Tusk brought the goblin to his face, his massive fangs bared.
"Tusk angry at you. Stupid. Tusk not happy at all..."
The goblin whimpered, its red skin paling in terror.
Before it could beg for rcy, Tusk squeezed.
CRUNCH.
The goblin's bones shattered, its organs bursting between Tusk's massive fingers like overripe fruit. He let the remains slop onto the ground, irritated.
He scratched his head, deep in thought.
"Tooth smart goblin dead. Lost book he had." His massive brow furrowed in frustration.
"Tusk can't return to demon camp without book. We must find it now."
Another troll, Huge, sniffed the air and grunted.
"Huge no find scent. But see... human footprints."
Tusk's eyes glead with hatred.
"Yes... Goddess races here."
His grip tightened on his axe, his thick fingers leaving indentations in the weapon's hilt.
"We must hunt and kill. No matter what."
The third troll, who had remained silent, walked toward the bloodstains left behind.
"Hand... confused." His voice rumbled like a distant avalanche.
"Why no bodies? No dead here. Only blood." His narrowed eyes flicked toward Tusk.
"Think Goddess races eat smart goblin and others?"
Tusk shook his head. "No. Goddess races no eat without fire. No signs of heat."
His gaze swept over the ruins of their forces—the clever traps, the calculated destruction.
"Yes... work of very smart Goddess race person."
He gripped his axe tightly, a flicker of mory flashing through his dark, seething mind.
"Goddess races..."
His rage boiled over.
Tusk threw back his head and roared into the sky, his voice shaking the very trees.
"ENEMIES! WE HUNT! WE KILL! WE NEVER FORGIVE EVIL GODDESS RACE!"
His eyes burned—not just with anger, but with sothing deeper.
Grief.
A sorrow that had long since hardened into hatred.
Huge, wiping blood from his face, frowned. "What about book? We find, not report to demons?"
Tusk's glare darkened.
WHAM!
He punched Huge in the face, sending the troll staggering back.
"We chase Goddess race. We hunt." His voice was low, growling.
"What demon not know, no hurt demon."
His eyes glead cruelly. "We no get punished too."
Huge rubbed his jaw, then slowly grinned.
"We call remaining goblins. We hunt."
The war trolls raised their weapons, a dark, twisted joy gleaming in their eyes. They were ready.
Even as the hornets continued tearing into the surviving red-cap goblins, it did nothing to diminish their excitent.
They were about to begin a hunt.
For Damon.
For his party.
And they wouldn't stop until every last one was dead.
—
Not far away, a shadow moved.
It slipped silently through the trees, darting in the direction Damon and his party had fled.
Perched on a high branch, Damon clicked his tongue.
He had been watching everything through his shadow.
His dark eyes narrowed.
'Tch. A sha I didn't have ti to set up fire traps. I would've burned them all.'
Still... his work had been effective.
The traps had killed or crippled most of the goblins. And while the trolls were still alive, at least he'd bought them ti.
But now, they had a much bigger problem.
The war trolls were hunting them.
And these weren't just any trolls.
They were veterans of the Demon Wars.
They had a burning hatred for any race that worshiped the Goddess.
And worse?
That damn journal.
Damon's gaze darkened.
The journal they had looted from the Redcap Goblin Mage was important to the trolls.
Which ant it was even more important to the demon army behind them.
'Evangeline has it now…' He exhaled slowly. 'I need to catch up.'
His eyes flicked back toward the trolls.
At best, his traps had bought them a day.
At worst?
He was certain they wouldn't be that lucky.
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