Satou's eyes swept the approaching force — twenty soldiers in tight formation, three mages with staffs already glowing, and a knight whose armor alone probably cost more than an entire goblin tribe's worth of anything.
'No tricks here. No ambush. No element of surprise.'
This wasn't the junction. This was a straight corridor with nowhere to hide and an enemy that had already learned to stop underestimating them.
'We're going to lose people. The only question is how many I can keep alive.'
His eyes jumped to the crack in the wall behind them — their only way out. Still too narrow. They'd never get everyone through before the humans cut them down from behind.
Unless —
An idea formed. Desperate and costly. But it was all he had.
Satou turned and scanned the goblin fighters until he found what he needed — three massive goblins, each standing nearly six feet tall, arms like tree trunks, carrying enormous clubs and hammers built for crushing rather than cutting.
"You three!" he barked in goblin. "Big ones — here, now!"
The three lumbering goblins pushed through the line. Up close they were even more imposing — scarred, heavily muscled, tusks jutting from their lower jaws.
"You see that crack?" Satou pointed at the narrow opening. "Widen it. Use your hammers, use your clubs — smash the edges until everyone can fit through. Start now and don't stop no matter what you hear behind you. Just keep hitting."
The largest one, a brute with a broken tusk and one milky eye, grunted. "Hit rock. Make hole bigger."
"Exactly. Go."
The three big goblins turned and moved toward the crack. Within seconds the rhythmic CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! of metal on stone filled the tunnel.
Gob stepped up beside Satou, his expression dark. "You just sent our three strongest fighters to pound rocks."
"I know," Satou said quietly.
"That means we fight them—" Gob jerked his head toward the advancing humans, "—short-handed."
"I know," Satou said again, his voice hollow.
Gob was quiet for a moment. Then he spat on the ground. "You better be right about this."
Satou didn't answer. He couldn't. Because he wasn't sure he was right. He was gambling with lives — goblin lives that had started to matter to him more than he wanted to admit.
He glanced quickly back at the rubble. Jessica, Kelvin, Goblin 1, and Goblin 2 were still on this side, helping the wounded non-combatants navigate the climb. Not through yet. Not enough time.
'Hold the line. Buy them the time they need.'
Behind them the CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! of the big goblins working at the crack mixed with the sounds of wounded goblins being guided up the rubble pile.
Ahead, the knight raised his greatsword.
"Forward! Mages — suppressing fire!"
The human formation advanced like a steel tide — shields raised, swords gleaming, boots striking stone in perfect unison.
The three mages raised their staffs together.
"Flame Barrage!"
Three spheres of fire arced through the air toward the goblin line.
"SCATTER!" Satou screamed.
The goblins dove in every direction. Two fireballs struck the ground where they'd been standing, exploding in bursts of heat and force that sent goblins tumbling across the stone. The third caught a goblin warrior who'd been too slow — he screamed as the flames took him, his body going still within seconds.
First casualty.
Satou's chest tightened. He pushed it down.
"Scouts — return fire!" Gob roared.
Five goblin scouts loosed arrows. Most bounced off shields and armor. One found a gap — piercing a soldier's shoulder. The man grunted and stumbled but kept coming.
Fifteen feet away now.
Ten.
"CHARGE!"
The soldiers broke into a run, their war cries slamming off the cave walls.
The goblins met them.
Steel against crude iron. Sparks flying. Blood in the air.
A goblin warrior swung his axe at a soldier's head. The soldier caught it on his shield and drove his sword through the goblin's stomach. The goblin dropped, blood on his lips.
A lean scout with twin daggers darted between two soldiers, slashing at exposed joints. He cut one soldier's hamstring — the man went to his knees — but a second soldier's blade caught the scout across the spine. He fell without a sound.
Gob's axe came down in a brutal overhead arc, smashing through a raised shield and into the collarbone beneath. Bone crunched. The soldier screamed. Gob kicked him aside and moved.
But the humans had numbers, training, and equipment that outclassed everything the goblins were holding.
A mage leveled his staff. "Ice Spear!"
A jagged lance of ice materialized and punched through a goblin shaman's chest. The shaman's eyes went wide before he crumpled, his staff clattering away.
Another mage was already chanting. "Lightning Bolt!"
The arc of electricity snapped through a cluster of three goblin warriors. Their bodies convulsed, smoke rising from charred flesh, before they collapsed in a heap.
Satou had just enough mana scraped together for one more Stone Spit. He aimed for the lightning mage's face and fired.
CRACK.
The shard connected — breaking the mage's nose, blood flooding down his face, interrupting whatever came next. The mage staggered backward.
Then a soldier was on Satou — sword raised high, coming down fast.
Satou barely got his dulled blade up in time. The impact jarred both arms and nearly knocked the weapon from his grip. He stumbled back, Basic Swordsmanship the only thing keeping him upright as he parried desperately, blow after blow, each one heavier than the last.
The soldier was stronger. Better trained. Properly armored.
Satou was a newborn goblin running on stolen skills and fumes.
A blade sliced across his arm. Pain shot white through his vision but he kept moving, kept circling.
'I can't die here. Jessica and Kelvin and Goblin 1 and Goblin 2 are still on this side of that crack.'
He looked at his left hand. Flame Spark. Untested, low power, a candle's worth of fire pulled from a dead mage's half-finished spell. He had no idea what it would actually do.
Only one way to find out.
He called it up — a tiny tongue of flame appeared at his fingertip, barely larger than a match. The soldier saw it and let out a short, contemptuous laugh.
"What exactly are you going to do with that? Light my cigarette?"
Satou didn't answer. He threw it directly at the soldier's face.
It wasn't much. But it didn't need to be. The soldier flinched hard, raising his hand to protect his eyes — an instinct he couldn't stop.
Satou lunged. His fangs closed on the exposed inside of the soldier's wrist — the gap between gauntlet and vambrace, a half-inch of skin he'd spotted the moment the man's arm came up.
Poison Fang activated. Venom hit the bloodstream.
The soldier screamed and wrenched his arm back, throwing Satou off. But the poison was already moving — his face went pale, his next swing sluggish and wide.
Satou hit the ground, rolled, came up with the sword in both hands, and drove it into the gap between the soldier's helmet and chest plate.
Blood sprayed.
The soldier went down.
Satou stood over him, chest heaving, his wounded arm burning, Regeneration quietly working beneath the surface but nowhere near fast enough to keep up with this pace. The Stone Spit was dry. Flame Spark had given him one use. His fangs had gotten the job done but cost him a throw across the tunnel floor.
He looked up at the battle around him.
And the goblins were losing.
Bodies on the ground — most of them green-skinned. The fighters were giving everything they had but they were being ground down. Superior equipment. Superior numbers after losing three of their strongest to the crack. Superior magic.
The knight's greatsword split a goblin warrior's guard and didn't slow down.
Two soldiers working together ran a scout through from opposite sides.
A shaman's control slipped and the spell turned inward — consuming him before it could reach anyone else.
Satou's jaw tightened.
'We're not going to make it. Not like this.'
Behind him the CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! of hammers on stone continued.
'How much longer do they need?'