Low-Fantasy Occultist Isekai

Nick tightened the straps of his pack, rolling his shoulders as he took in the people who would brave the dungeon with him.

Thirty people. The other groups had about twenty each, so Floria gathered roughly seventy people for the expedition. More might have participated if Dad had eased the requirements, but that would have been counterproductive. It would have left the town defenseless and complicated the logistics of the march.

His father's strike group consisted of a mix of experienced soldiers, hardened adventurers, and two priests. Among them were three other scouts—two were seasoned Rangers, wearing leather armor worn from years of travel through the forest, and the last was a younger Rogue, barely a couple years older than Devon.

Together, they would form the main prong of the attack.

Their job was simple—at least in theory. They would penetrate deep into the dungeon's territory, causing enough chaos to keep its defenders focused on them, while the other two groups—led by Arthur and Marthas—took advantage of the distraction to reach the core.

That was, of course, assuming everything went according to plan.

Nick wasn't counting on that. We have no idea what lies ahead beyond Arthur's findings. And with how quickly the fae are moving, I'd be surprised if they haven't made preparations to slow us down.

No one had properly mapped out the depths of the dungeon since its sudden expansion. The monsters had already grown stronger and more numerous, and now, with the presence of the Summer Court, they had to assume even the dungeon itself was adapting.

There were contingencies, of course.

If their advance stalled or they found themselves overwhelmed, the three groups would retreat to the fallback point—the scorched clearing where his father had slain the dryad. From there, they could regroup and re-evaluate before pushing forward again.

That, at least, was the idea.

Nick would have preferred to be in one of the groups aiming for the dungeon core.

After reading Roberta's diary, he was convinced that the core was something far more significant than just a spawning mechanism for monsters. It allowed the dungeon's territory to expand, which implied it had a way to safely interface with the leyline.

That was something Nick desired for himself. He wasn't so arrogant as to believe he could control the world's veins, but he could imagine countless possible rituals to empower himself using such a remarkable object as fuel.

But this wasn't just a single battle; it was a war. It would take them hours to enter the dungeon's true territory, and he suspected it would take days to reach the place where the core was kept—and where the fae had established their Court.

Arthur and Marthas' forces broke off, moving alongside them but steadily vanishing as the forest grew denser. Soon enough, Nick couldn't sense them at all.

The trees grew taller and thicker, their gnarled roots twisting through the earth like veins. The further they traveled, the less familiar everything became.

Nick knew the outer forest well enough—he had gathered ingredients here, explored its clearings, and even fought in its shadows, but they had long since left those safer areas behind.

They had long since passed the area where Nick had found the mushrooms—the place that once marked the furthest he had dared to go alone.

Now, even with [Wind God's Third Eye] activated, he was keenly aware that he was relying on an imperfect sense. Even worse, the battle with the dryad had shown he wasn't infallible.

How many things could be lurking just beneath the surface?

Nick shook his head, annoyed with himself for getting distracted by his spiraling thoughts. This wasn't useful, especially with how much more oppressive the forest was becoming. I might be immune to mental spells, but that doesn't mean I can't get creeped out by what I know is a haunted forest.

Nick's air sense picked up subtle shifts, distant movements, the occasional rustle of unseen animals, but nothing that seemed immediately dangerous. He didn't trust it at all, and soon enough, his paranoia was rewarded.

A ripple shuddered through the air. Something was coming.

Not just one thing—many. Nick felt a group coming their way. It was moving quickly, too. They weren't stalking, weren't waiting in ambush. They were charging—a full rush straight toward them.

"Incoming." He shouted, making sure to bring the sound to everyone's ears. His father's head snapped toward him, and Nick didn't wait for further prompting.

"There are a lot of them. Bipedal. About half a mile out and closing fast."

Eugene didn't hesitate to issue orders. "Form ranks around the priests! Shields forward! Scouts fall back and prepare to harass!"

The call to action was met with immediate response, as swords were drawn, bows strung, and spells readied.

The older scouts jumped into action, and as soon as they took position, they turned to Nick.

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"Height?"

"Weight?"

"Are they hunched or upright?"

"Do they carry weapons? What kind?"

Nick closed his eyes for a second, refining the sensory input from [Wind God's Third Eye] before answering.

"Just under five feet for most, but one's bigger—closer to six. The smaller ones are carrying clubs, spears, and rusted swords. The big one… it's armored. Leather, maybe reinforced, but definitely more intact than the rest. And its sword—"

Nick hesitated, trying to understand what he was feeling. The blade wasn't ordinary. The air around it felt unsettled. It wasn't easy to articulate, but he could sense that the ambient wind mana in the air was being actively repelled.

"It's enchanted," he finished.

A brief silence followed his assessment. Then, one of the adventurers sighed. "Great. Just great. A damned hobgoblin."

Muttered curses followed from the more seasoned fighters. Nick raised an eyebrow. "That bad?"

One of the scouts, a grizzled man with a scar running across his cheek, answered grimly. "Goblins alone are pests. Annoying but manageable. But when they have a hobgoblin leading them?" He spat to the side. "That's when they become a bitch to kill. Especially if they are advanced enough to have gotten their hands on good weapons."

The rogue nodded in agreement. "They become smarter, more coordinated, and harder to put down. Hobgoblins are stronger than most humans of equal level, and they compel their kin to fight much harder."

Nick glanced at Eugene, who stood with arms crossed, listening silently. His father didn't look worried, merely thoughtful. "Regardless, we were always going to eliminate them." He finally said. "Even if we weren't on an extermination mission, we can't let goblins settle in these woods." His gaze swept across the gathered fighters. "A single tribe can multiply rapidly, and with a hobgoblin leading them, they'll breed faster, raid more, and eventually become a regional disaster. If they integrate into the dungeon's ecosystem, they'll evolve alongside it. And that—" His expression hardened. "Is unacceptable."

Apparently, the goblins weren't just monsters. They were a plague waiting to happen.

Nick's head snapped up. "They're almost here."

The group fell silent. Soon after, the first distant hollers rang through the trees. It was an ugly sound—high-pitched cackles and guttural shrieks, growing louder with each second.

Weapons were drawn, and skills were prepared. The air thickened with anticipation. Nick took a breath to steady himself. His mana pulsed as he began weaving his spell.

"[Wind Blast]."

Then another.

And another.

Five, seven, ten, twelve spheres of condensed air spun around him, coiled and waiting to strike.

"I'm going to take the first shot," he murmured.

Eugene nodded. "We'll move the moment you do. Make it count."

Nick narrowed his eyes. He waited.

The goblins rushed closer, their mismatched armor clattering, their beady red eyes shining with malice.

Then, the last goblin stepped into sight. Nick unleashed hell.

The air howled as the spheres of wind shot forward. Each one curved around the trees with unerring precision, guided by the [Wind God's Third Eye], slipping past branches and dodging obstacles as if they were alive.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

Explosions of compressed air tore through the goblin ranks.

Some were sent flying, their bodies shattered against trees. Others crumpled instantly, their chests caved in by the sheer force.

Twelve fell in the blink of an eye. At least twice as many remained, but it was a substantial portion of the enemy force he had just eliminated.

The System chimed.