Chapter 28: Night Hunters

*Date: 33,480 First Quarter - Iron Confederacy*

Last night they were victory-drunk and exhausted, so they didn't look at the gear they had looted from the goblins. The adrenaline of their first successful raids had carried them through the night, but now, in the cold light of morning, reality settled in with the weight of their stolen weapons.

They slept in that small shack, bodies pressed together for warmth, and spent the day scouting to see if the goblins had noticed anything or were making any moves toward them. The mining operation continued its steady rhythm the distant sound of picks striking stone, the creak of wooden supports, the occasional bark of overseers. But no search parties emerged, no patrols deviated from their usual routes. The goblins seemed oblivious to their losses.

In the afternoon, Timmy made a meal for them from their dwindling supplies, preparing them for tonight's attack. The dried meat and hard bread from the dwarven valley tasted like hope and home, a reminder of what they were fighting to return to.

Marco inspected the items they had taken from the sentinels, his glasses catching the fading sunlight as he examined each piece. Only one sword was better than Demir's worn-out blade a crude but serviceable weapon with a slightly sharper edge and better balance. Demir swapped his old sword for it, running his fingers along the nicked but functional steel.

"It's not that much better still F grade but at least the slashing damage bonus is nice," Marco said, adjusting his spectacles.

"Yeah, it's hard to say goodbye to Moradin's sword, but until I can learn to make one myself, I have to use this, I guess," Demir replied, testing the weapon's weight. The blade felt foreign in his hands after years with his old sword, but he could already sense the slight improvement in its cutting power.

The second night came cold, the kind of cold that gnawed into joints and whispered doubts into the back of every mind. Breath puffed white from Demir's lips as he tightened the straps on his chest piece, the leather and steel creaking softly in the darkness. His hands were stiff from the mountain air, but inside, the buff thrummed warm the steady heartbeat of their comfort shed, lending him the illusion of sharper muscles and steadier lungs.

Marco readied his spells, blue light already gathering around his fingertips like captured starlight. But Demir instructed them to avoid excessive noise until they were swarmed. So Marco was only on watch, unlike yesterday when his ice arrows had announced their presence.

"We see that we can take them down.So I want you to always look around. If anyone sends anything we can't react to, create a shield," Demir suggested, his voice barely above a whisper.

Timmy slid his spear free with a whisper of steel against leather. His eyes glinted fierce in the faint starlight, though his fingers trembled when he brushed his blond hair back from his face. "Ready."

Sin flexed his grip on the cleaver, the weapon that had become an extension of his arm over these bloody nights. He tried to look steady, but Demir could see the tension in his shoulders. "If we keep thinning them, three nights will break their patrols. They won't know what hit them."

Demir nodded, though inside the weight of leadership pressed heavy on his chest like a stone. "Stay sharp. We strike only when it's safe. We vanish before they can react."

They slipped from the shed, the boulder behind them fading into the dark like a protective guardian. The forest was a skeleton of black branches under a pale moon, every shadow potentially hiding enemies. Owls hooted in the distance, and every twig crunch echoed too loud in the still air. But the buffs steadied their legs, let them move quieter and quicker, as if the world itself gave them a sliver of grace.

The first target was easy two goblins trudging down the mine path with crude spears and slouched backs, their conversation a mixture of grunts and complaints about the cold. Demir raised his fist, signaling halt. Timmy crouched beside him, eyes narrowed as he studied their prey.

"They're barely awake," he whispered, noting how one goblin kept stumbling over his own feet.

"Good," Demir murmured. "Sin, take left again. Timmy, right. Marco, keep cover."

They flowed forward like hunters, their movements coordinated by nights of practice and desperation. Sin swung his cleaver in a brutal arc, catching the first goblin across the ribs with a wet crunch that seemed to echo in the still air. Timmy stabbed fast and true, the other's torch toppling into the dirt with a hiss of extinguished flame. Neither goblin had time to cry out, their lives ending in shocked silence.

Bodies dragged into the underbrush, weapons tossed aside, and the night swallowed the evidence of their violence whole.

But the second target was different.

Further up the slope, torchlight bobbed erratically between the trees. Four goblins shuffled together, carrying bundles of ore on their backs, their movements slow and labored. These were miners returning late from their shifts, their chatter clumsy with exhaustion. One kept coughing, a harsh sound that carried too far in the still air. Still, four was more than they had handled at once before.

Sin swallowed hard, adrenaline making his voice tight. "We can take them."

"Buff is worn off. We should return," Demir said, feeling the familiar drain as their enhanced abilities faded.

"No, too much time wasted. We can take them," Sin insisted, his young face set with determination.

Demir shook his head. "Not face to face. We scatter them first." His eyes flicked to the torch one goblin carried lazily, flames sputtering in the cold air. "Timmy, stone. Knock it down."

Timmy bent, lifted a fist-sized rock, and hurled it with surprising force. The torch tumbled into the brush, sparks bursting into a sudden flare that caught the dry undergrowth. The goblins squealed in panic, dropping their bundles to stomp at the flames, their backs turned to the hidden attackers.

"Now," Demir hissed.

They rushed from the shadows like death itself. Marco's ice bolt drove into the neck of the distracted torch-bearer, sending it sprawling with a gurgle of shock and pain. Sin cleaved another's spine while it clawed desperately at the spreading fire, his blade biting deep through crude leather and green flesh. Timmy lunged at the third, steel crunching through ribs with a sound like breaking kindling.

The fourth goblin turned to flee, its eyes wide with terror, but Demir was faster. His new sword smashed into its leg, sending it tumbling to the ground. He finished it with a brutal strike to the skull, his heart thundering in his chest as blood splattered across his armor.

They stood panting in the smoky brush, the smell of charred pine thick around them and the metallic scent of blood heavy in their nostrils.

Timmy wiped his spear on the grass, his hands surprisingly steady. "See? Dumb fodder. Panic at fire like animals."

"Still almost loud enough to wake their whole camp," Marco muttered, glancing nervously downslope toward the mine. "Next time, quieter."

Demir only nodded, dragging one of the bodies deeper into shadow. His arms shook faintly from the sword's impact, the violence taking its toll on his body and soul. Killing never got lighter, never became easier, no matter how necessary it was.

They pressed deeper into goblin territory, moving with the careful patience of predators. Another pair of goblins lounged at a crude wooden tower overlooking the main road - a watchtower that was more scaffold than fortification, built from scavenged planks and held together with rope and rusted nails.

Demir crouched low behind a fallen log. "If they see us, we're done. Marco, ready a spell. Timmy, Sin, climb after I give the signal."

Marco took aim, exhaling slowly to steady his hands. The ice spell flew true, striking the torch and sending it tumbling from its perch, plunging the post into darkness. Confused grunts erupted above as the goblins fumbled in the sudden blackness. The twins didn't wait. They scrambled up the crude ladder, armor clinking faintly but masked by goblin squabbling and curses.

A muffled cry cut short. Then silence. Blood dripped faintly through the wooden slats as Timmy and Sin climbed back down, their faces pale but triumphant in the moonlight.

Sin whispered, grinning shakily, "Not so tough when we're faster."

Demir gave him a firm nod. "Good work. But don't grow careless."

By midnight, they had culled more than a dozen goblins, their systematic elimination leaving the mine road emptier and darker. Torch posts stood unlit, patrol routes abandoned, and the night felt somehow quieter, as if the forest itself approved of their work.

They returned to the shed for breath and recovery, their armor streaked with dirt and goblin blood, their weapons dulled by use. The buff pulsed stronger as they sat in the comfort's glow, like stepping from nightmare into hearthlight, their bodies remembering what safety felt like.

Marco slumped against the wall, glasses sliding down his nose as exhaustion took hold. "They'll start noticing tomorrow. Can't be this easy again."

Sin stretched his arms, fatigue pulling at his muscles but his eyes still bright with the thrill of successful combat. "Let them notice. They're still fodder. We're hunters now."

Timmy leaned his spear against the doorframe, staring at his blood-stained hands in the firelight. The reality of what they'd become was written in the dark stains on his fingers. "Hunters," he echoed, softer. "Feels strange."

Demir didn't sit. He stood at the doorway, staring out toward the ridge where the mine torches burned stubborn against the darkness. His armor felt heavier tonight, the weight of leadership and responsibility pressing down on him like a physical burden. The new sword felt foreign at his side, but it was becoming familiar with each life it took.

"We're hunters because we must be," he said finally, his voice carrying the weight of hard-won wisdom. "Tomorrow, they'll be angrier. Smarter, maybe. But they're still goblins. And we'll still cut them down."

He looked back at them, his family forged by circumstance and hardened by necessity. Their eyes were hollow but alive, marked by violence but still burning with purpose. "One more day, and then we strike. Until then, we keep thinning the herd."

"How are we gonna take that palisade wall? There wasn't one before," Timmy asked, voicing the concern that had been gnawing at all of them.

"Marco, do you have explosive spells?" Demir asked.

"One," Marco replied, uncertainty clear in his voice.

"Okay, ready that, and..." Demir began thinking, his tactical mind working through the problem. "Hmm. If it doesn't work, then maybe we rely on charged strikes. If Sin and I count our charged strikes and use them on the palisade door, we might be able to break through."

"We have to break through. Everyone's waiting for us," Sin said, his voice carrying the weight of fourteen lives depending on their success.

No one argued with that truth.

The night pressed on, cold and endless, but the shed held warm with quiet resolve and the promise of violence to come. Tomorrow would bring the final test of everything they'd learned, everything they'd become.

They were no longer the desperate refugees who had fled into the mountains. They were hunters, forged by necessity and tempered by blood, ready to reclaim what had been stolen from them.