Chapter 123: Bronze in the Green
The dragging sound stopped.
Silence pooled in the stone circle, thick and heavy. Neralia was a statue, one hand pressed over her own mouth. I saw Lashley's eyes snap open from a shallow sleep, his body tensing without making a sound. He didn't move, just listened.
The dragging didn't start again. Instead, a new sound took its place. The clumsy, unmistakable crunch of footsteps. Not the soft pad of a predator. This was noisy, careless. Metal clinked against metal. Low, guttural voices grumbled to one another in that ugly, hacking tongue I knew too well.
Goblins.
I rose from the lotus position in one fluid, silent motion, my muscles protesting. I gestured with two fingers toward my eyes, then pointed between the stones where the sound was loudest. Lashley nodded, rolling silently to his feet, sword already in hand. Neralia carefully, slowly, drew her tiny enchanted dagger.
We didn't breathe.
We became part of the stone.
Through a narrow gap between two mossy monoliths, I saw them.
A patrol. Five of them. They were different from the cave goblins. These were taller, leaner, their green skin mottled with patches of lichen-like grey and brown, perfect camouflage for the Edelmere. They wore crude, hammered bronze chest plates and greaves, patched together with leather straps. Each carried a notched bronze short sword, and one at the front had a small, stained wooden shield.
They moved with a swaggering arrogance, completely unaware of our presence just thirty yards away in the stone bowl. They were talking, if you could call it that. Grunts, snorts, and barks that passed for conversation. One shoved another, who snarled and bared yellowed fangs before laughing a wet, choking laugh.
As I watched, the cool, analytical blue box of the System superimposed itself over the scene.
***---***
[THREAT ANALYSIS]
THREAT IDENTIFIED: Edelmere Forest Goblin (Mana-Adapted).
QUANTITY: 5.
THREAT LEVEL: E (Irregular Militia Variant).
NOTE: Lightly armored. Basic weapon proficiency. Enhanced olfactory senses compared to common cave-dwelling subspecies. Poor low-light vision. Prone to infighting without clear leadership.
Weak points: Standard humanoid (eyes, throat, joints). Bronze armor offers minimal protection against focused piercing strikes.
[COMBAT PROTOCOL SUGGESTED]
· Avoid engagement unless necessary. Noise may attract higher-tier predators.
· If engaged, eliminate the shield-bearer first to break formation.
· Use terrain to separate and dispatch individually.
***---***
E-Rank. The bottom of the ladder. Back in the cave, they had been a deadly threat. Now, after the shade-wolves, after the Alpha, after seeing titans clash in the canopy, they looked almost… pathetic. Small. Like angry children playing soldier in a graveyard.
But the System's note was the key: *Noise may attract higher-tier predators.*
We couldn't fight. Not here. Not even against these E-Rank fools. The sound of bronze clashing, a goblin's death scream—it would be a dinner bell for everything else in this forest.
I held up a closed fist. The universal sign to hold position. To stay absolutely still.
Lashley's jaw was tight. I could see the conflict in his eyes. The noble warrior's instinct to charge and clear the vermin warring with the stark, humbling terror the Edelmere had planted in him. He gave a stiff, reluctant nod.
Neralia had closed her eyes, as if not seeing them would make them go away. Her knuckles were white around her dagger's hilt.
The goblins stopped. The one with the shield, presumably the leader, sniffed the air. Its wide, flat nose twitched. It turned its head slowly, its beady black eyes scanning the trees near our circle.
My heart thumped once, hard, against my ribs. *Enhanced olfactory senses.*
Had we left a trail? Was the smell of our sweat, our fear, our very human scent, drifting on the still air?
The lead goblin took a step toward our depression. Then another. It was curious, not alerted. It grunted something, and two others followed, their swords held loosely.
They were ten yards from the stone ring now. Close enough to see the gaps. Close enough to peer inside.
I slowly, so slowly it felt like my joints were rusting, shifted my weight onto the balls of my feet. My hand found the hilt of my sword. If they came in, we would have to kill them fast. Horribly, messily fast. And then we would have to run, leaving the relative safety of the circle, with who-knows-what already on its way.
The lead goblin stopped at the very edge of the slope leading down into our bowl. It peered into the gloom of the circle. Its eyes, bad in the low light, squinted. It saw the stones, the clear space. It didn't see us, merged with the shadows at the base of the stones.
It sniffed again, long and deep.
This was it. The moment tipped on a knife's edge.
Then, from the forest to the other side of the goblins, came a sound. A high-pitched chittering squeal, like a rabbit caught in a snare. It was sudden. It was close.
The goblins' heads snapped around as one. The leader forgot its curiosity instantly, a predator's focus redirecting to easier, noisier prey. It barked a command, and all five of them turned and loped off into the undergrowth, toward the sound, their armor clanking.
We listened as the sounds of their passage faded, replaced by the distant, brief scuffle of small combat, a victorious goblin shout, and then silence again.
I let out the breath I'd been holding. It sounded loud in the sudden quiet. Lashley sagged against a stone. Neralia opened her eyes, a shudder running through her.
For a full five minutes, none of us moved. We waited to see if the commotion had drawn something else. Nothing came. The forest returned to its own business.
The close call was over. No fight. No blood. Just the silent, stomach-clenching terror of almost being discovered.
I looked at the twins. The aristocratic disdain was gone from their faces, burned away by raw, primal relief. They looked young. Scared. Human.
"We move at first light," I whispered, the sound barely carrying. "This spot is known. They might come back. Or something else will."
They didn't argue. They just nodded.
The countdown in my vision continued its inexorable march, a reminder that time itself was the predator we could never hide from.
219:48:12... 11... 10...
Less than seven days. And we were still just skimming the surface of the green hell.