Chapter 218 — The Battle at the Gate
Deep within the forest, the Goblin settlement that had once been calm was now drowning in turmoil.
Only a few moments ago, the warriors who had marched out under their Shaman's command had returned.
They had left to hunt a single human.
They had returned looking like survivors of a massacre.
Nearly half of the warriors were gone.
Those who remained stumbled through the settlement with battered bodies, blood covering their weapons and torn armour hanging from their bodies. Some were barely conscious. Others couldn't even walk without support.
No one understood what had happened.
How could hunting one human have cost them so much?
Even the Shaman had returned exhausted.
The moment he entered the settlement, he gave his orders.
"Put every remaining warrior on alert. Watch the outskirts. Don't let anything approach without being noticed."
His voice carried exhaustion, but there was no room for argument.
He immediately withdrew to recover his strength.
The settlement obeyed.
Wounded Goblins were carried away for treatment.
Warriors occupied the walls.
Scouts were stationed around the perimeter.
Every entrance was watched.
Every sound in the surrounding forest drew attention.
Yet the more the survivors spoke about what had happened outside, the more fear spread through the settlement.
A single human should never have been capable of this.
Not alone.
But once the surviving warriors described the Bone Army following him...
The Goblins finally understood.
This wasn't an ordinary human.
This was something far more dangerous.
The entire settlement entered a state of emergency.
The scouting range was reduced to barely five hundred meters from the walls. No group was allowed to wander farther without direct orders.
Even the mountain wolves were brought into the operation.
Normally, the Shaman had avoided using them.
The wolves were limited in number, and wasting them on a single human seemed unnecessary.
Now, that concern no longer mattered.
Every resource capable of finding and killing the human had become necessary.
Scouts moved alongside warriors mounted on wolves, creating patrol groups that could cover the surrounding forest much faster.
For half a day, nothing happened.
No human appeared.
No Skeletons emerged from the trees.
No attack came.
The silence only made the Goblins more restless.
Slowly, some began wondering whether the human had finally retreated.
Perhaps he had escaped.
Perhaps the battle had ended.
Perhaps they had survived.
That fragile hope lasted until another scout came running through the settlement.
His face was pale.
His breathing was ragged.
He didn't stop to explain anything to the warriors who surrounded him.
He rushed straight toward the Shaman's hut.
Two large, dark-green Goblins stood guard outside.
The moment they saw the scout's expression, they allowed him through.
Everyone watching understood immediately.
Something had happened.
A moment later, the Shaman's roar erupted from inside the hut.
"What?! Have you all gone insane?! You should have reported this the moment you noticed something!"
His voice shook the surrounding walls.
The scout lowered his head, trembling.
"Sir... we weren't certain. We thought it might have been a coincidence, or perhaps some other things. But we can no longer contact five scouting groups."
His voice weakened.
"We believe... the human is responsible."
Silence followed.
The Shaman slowly raised a hand to his face.
He rubbed his eyes.
A heavy sigh escaped his mouth.
He had expected the human to attack the settlement eventually.
He hadn't expected him to begin dismantling their eyes and ears first.
There were sixteen scouting teams spread around the settlement.
Each consisted of scouts accompanied by warriors and mountain wolves.
Five teams had suddenly lost contact.
No screams.
No signals.
Nothing.
At first, the others had assumed it was a communication problem.
That changed when one of the returning scouts reported finding bloodstains scattered across several locations.
Not enough to identify what had happened.
Enough to make the truth obvious.
The human was hunting them.
And he was doing it from the shadows.
"You worthless fools..."
The Shaman's fingers tightened around his staff.
"Call every unit back."
His voice became cold.
"Seal every gate. Block every possible route into the settlement."
He paused.
"We're going defensive."
The scout immediately bowed.
"Yes, sir."
"And send a messenger to the tribe."
The Shaman's expression darkened.
"Tell them we're dealing with a situation beyond what we expected. It's getting out of control."
The scout hurried away.
Orders spread throughout the settlement.
One after another, the scouting groups returned.
But when the warriors counted them...
Only nine teams had made it back safely.
Nine.
The Shaman stood motionless.
His eyes slowly hardened.
Five teams had already disappeared.
Two more were missing.
He didn't need anyone to explain what had happened to them.
The human had been cutting them down one group at a time.
Not openly.
Not recklessly.
Like a predator moving through darkness.
The Shaman gritted his teeth.
'He's hunting us now.'
That realisation made his grip tighten around his staff.
Meanwhile, two scouts were prepared to leave the settlement with two mountain wolves.
Their mission was simple.
Reach the deeper forest.
Deliver the message to the tribe.
The gates opened.
The two scouts rode into the forest.
The Shaman watched them disappear between the trees.
Yet even after they were far beyond the settlement, unease remained buried inside him.
He couldn't trust the silence anymore.
The human had already proven that.
The Shaman raised his staff.
A controlled beast emerged from the forest and began following the messengers from above.
Through the beast's vision, he watched them travel deeper into the forest.
Five hundred meters.
Seven hundred.
One kilometer.
The scouts continued without incident.
Eventually, the dense vegetation swallowed them from sight.
The Shaman finally withdrew his attention.
Only then did he decide to investigate the areas where the missing scouts had disappeared.
He personally moved toward the outskirts.
One location.
Nothing.
Another.
Nothing.
He searched through the vegetation, examined the ground and followed every trace he could find.
Nothing.
Not a single body.
Not a single Skeleton.
Not even a clear trail.
The Shaman eventually reached the area near the valley pathway.
His eyes moved toward the entrance.
He considered entering.
The thought lasted only a moment.
He immediately dismissed it.
'Where is that human...?'
His brows tightened.
'I can't read his movements at all.'
His fingers slowly tightened around his staff.
'Master was right.'
His eyes narrowed.
'Humans really are a cunning race.'
He turned around the controlled beast and prepared to return.
That was when he noticed something.
A figure.
Half a kilometer from the settlement.
Walking toward the entrance.
Not running.
Not hiding.
Walking.
Leisurely.
The Shaman's eyes widened.
The figure was covered from head to toe in strange armour.
Bone formed its foundation.
Earth reinforced it.
Ice covered the outer layer.
And across his back rested a blade.
A blade the Shaman could never forget.
The same blade that had taken the lives of so many of his tribesmen.
His heartbeat quickened.
'It's him.'
The human.
The Shaman's controlled beast immediately stopped moving.
He remained hidden while watching Evan approach.
A perfect opportunity.
The human hadn't noticed him.
The Shaman slowly raised his staff.
If he could strike first...
But before he could think to prepare an attack, Evan stopped.
Just stopped.
The human stood motionless for several seconds.
The Shaman's eyes narrowed.
Evan slowly turned his head.
He looked around.
Once.
Twice.
Then his gaze rose toward the trees.
Straight toward the beast's position.
The Shaman's pupils contracted.
'Impossible.'
Those cold eyes stared directly through the distance.
Through the leaves.
Through the concealment.
Straight at him.
Evan didn't speak.
He simply looked at him.
A faint smile seemed to appear beneath the armour.
The next instant...
A dark veil spread across the Shaman's vision.
Everything disappeared.
The connection to his controlled beast vanished.
Instantly.
The Shaman's heart sank.
'He found it.'
He immediately understood.
The human had discovered the beast watching him.
He had severed the connection.
The Shaman didn't waste another second.
He rushed back toward the settlement wall.
The moment he reached the walls, every Goblin noticed the change in his expression.
He appeared on the wall.
His eyes turned toward the forest.
Every warrior followed his gaze.
The settlement fell silent.
No one needed an explanation.
Something was coming.
The tension became suffocating.
Archers raised their bows.
Warriors gripped their weapons.
The wounded Goblins were pushed farther behind the defensive lines.
Everyone waited.
And finally...
A figure emerged from the forest.
Evan.
He walked through the vegetation without haste.
The strange armour covering his body caught the faint light filtering through the trees.
A cold layer of protection that made him look less like a human and more like an undead warrior wearing the remains of an ancient battlefield.
The Goblin archers immediately nocked their arrows.
Dozens of bows pulled tight.
The Shaman raised one hand.
"Don't."
The archers hesitated.
The Shaman stared at Evan.
He knew those arrows wouldn't accomplish anything.
That armour had already proven its durability.
A few arrows wouldn't stop him.
The Shaman's gaze moved across Evan's body.
'Bone and earth as the foundation... ice layered over the surface.'
He couldn't understand it.
It wasn't ordinary armour.
It was magic.
But what kind of magic allowed someone to manipulate three different elements and maintain them as a complete defensive structure?
'Even master doesn't possess this level of elemental control.'
'How is it possible for such a person to accomplish this?'
The Shaman's expression darkened.
Then he noticed the shadow stretching behind Evan.
It moved.
A figure emerged from it.
Then another and another.
The Shaman's eyes narrowed.
Skeletons.
More than two hundred of them emerged behind Evan.
The Goblins surrounding the walls stiffened.
But the Shaman's expression changed for an entirely different reason.
Among the undead were unfamiliar figures.
Skeletons riding skeletal wolves like beings.
Their bodies were covered in the same strange armour as the human was wearing.
And their proportions...
Their structure...
They resembled goblins.
The Shaman's face twisted with rage.
His fingers dug into the wooden wall.
The wood cracked beneath his grip.
"That bas*ard..."
His voice came through clenched teeth.
"He's using our warriors against us like this."
The Goblins finally noticed it too.
Their fallen comrades had become undead.
The warriors who had fought beside them were now standing behind the human.
Even the wolves had been turned into Skeletons.
The Goblins who had survived the previous battle instinctively stepped backwards.
Their memories returned.
The endless Skeletons.
The bodies rising.
Their comrades being dragged back into the battle after death.
Fear spread through the settlement.
The Shaman saw it.
He couldn't allow it to grow.
"Don't flatter... This human...!"
His roar shook the walls.
The frightened warriors looked toward him as he continued.
"This human is nothing but a cunning liar!"
He pointed his staff toward Evan.
"Look at his army!"
His voice grew louder.
"He claimed he had a thousand summons."
His eyes swept across the undead.
"Where are they?"
The Goblins looked around.
There were only a little more than two hundred.
The Shaman seized the opportunity.
"He lied to you!"
His voice became forceful.
"Destroy this pitiful army, and that human's head will be ours!"
The warriors tightened their grips.
The fear in their eyes slowly began turning into anger.
He was right.
Where was the thousand-man army?
There were only a little more than two hundred Skeletons.
Their numbers were comparable.
They had the walls.
They had weapons.
They had the Shaman.
They still had a chance.
The tension didn't disappear.
But their courage returned.
Across the battlefield...
Evan and the Shaman's eyes met.
Neither moved.
Neither spoke.
The forest seemed to hold its breath.
The Shaman slowly raised his hand.
Every archer understood.
Bows were pulled tighter.
Strings creaked.
Arrows pointed toward Evan.
Across from them, Evan raised Crimson Edge.
The blade emerged from behind his shoulder and settled into his hand.
The surrounding Skeletons began moving.
Clack.
Clack.
Clatter.
Hundreds of skeletal fingers tightened around weapons.
The Goblins swallowed nervously.
The Shaman's eyes remained fixed on Evan.
Evan's gaze never left him.
One commander stood behind the walls.
The other stood before an army of the dead.
For several seconds...
Nothing happened.
The tension became unbearable.
Then both hands moved.
"Kill!"
The command erupted from both sides.
The Goblin archers released their strings.
The undead army surged forward.
Hundreds of arrows tore through the air.
Hundreds of Skeletons charged toward the settlement.
The final battle had begun.
This time...
There would be no retreat.
No second hunt.
No third chance.
Only death would decide who remained standing.