Chapter 8 — Goblin Raid and a Bloodied War Mace

Part 1 — Exile, Then Saving the Nation

Discord: https://discord.com/invite/asmotoon

Our quiet herb hunt got interrupted by a foxkin kid barreling through the brush. He said a swarm of humanoid monsters had suddenly attacked his village.

Foxkin aren’t weak, but a surprise assault can overwhelm anyone.

"It’s a trap," I said.

"Definitely," Ellie echoed.

The others gawked.

"No! I swear! The village—"

"Master, we have to help!"

"Hold up," Ellie said. "Bill, I get it, but we have to consider a trap. Kid, how’d you get out?"

"There’s a secret tunnel we use to play—"

"No other kids escaped?"

"I was the only one nearby."

"And your village is where?"

"That way... Please, hurry!"

His story made sense. The route we were on was a straight line between his village and town, so it was likely coincidence he ran into us.

"All right, kid. Name?"

"Sora."

"Lead the way."

"Thought so," Ellie muttered, clutching her crosier. "Guess we ditch the herb baskets."

◆◆◆

We looped around from downwind. The village still stood, log walls were holding, and the foxkin were firing volleys efficiently. The humanoids were small fry with barely any spellcasters.

"Still a lot of them," I said. Roughly a hundred by the look of it—half already dead, half still pressing.

"Look there," Ellie pointed. Corpses piled against a section of the wall, letting others climb. As soon as Bill cried out, the wall groaned and collapsed inward under the weight.

"No time for chip damage," Ellie said.

I coated everyone with buffs and barked orders.

"Bless us. I’m opening with this."

"A scroll?"

I unfurled parchment etched with a glowing array. "Firestorm. Once I cast it, charge in. Twins, stay hidden and guard Sora and yourselves. Go! Firestorm—ignite!"

The sigils blazed gold, and a towering tornado of flame roared in the center of the mob. Even from a distance the heat and wind blasted us. Then, silence. Leaves fluttered down, revealing charred bodies.

Three-quarters gone in one shot. Survivors screamed, smashed their clubs, or stood stunned. I almost felt sorry for them. Almost. If only I could cast Firestorm without a scroll—but talent isn’t my thing.

The scroll crumbled to ash. I knocked back a few Fire Grenades and dove into the fray. The first few drop with clean cuts, but then most turn tail. Not that they’re cowards—Ellie’s Fear of the Divine was working wonders. She’d scold me if I called it a bluff spell, so I keep that to myself.

I cleaved down the irreverent stragglers and vaulted over the collapsed wall. Inside, a few idiots still tried to pillage, but the foxkin warriors cut them down swiftly.

Just when it seemed over, a faint scream carried from deeper in the village. I sprinted over. Two monsters had a foxkin woman pinned, ready to brutalize her.

I skewered the leg-grabber with an Ice Lance through the skull and decapitated the other mid-grapple.

The woman shoved the corpse aside and—after dripping silent tears—started kicking. "Jerk! Scum! Pervert! Die!"

He was very dead already. Also, she was exposed. I threw my cloak over her. The moment she realized, she flushed to her ears and collapsed into a crouch.

"Th-thank you." She bowed her head, ears drooping.

I left her to Ellie, who’d switched from her usual crosier to a war mace dripping gore—Saint Ellie’s “physical solution.” She always says, “In the end, blunt force wins.” I keep questioning if saints are supposed to say that.

The rest of the village gathered in the square and thanked us profusely. There were injuries but no deaths, and Ellie patched up the wounded. They insisted on sending formal thanks through the guild later—we accepted on the condition it covered our costs. Firestorm scrolls aren’t cheap, and without the army’s support I can’t restock easily.

As we left, the rescued woman stopped us.

"Thank you. Because of you, everything’s… okay." She blushed. "Your name?"

"Dan."

She watched us until we vanished.

The twins chattered nonstop on the way home, replaying every moment. Annoying, but in a cute way.

◆◆◆

The next morning, a familiar figure stood at our door.

"Good morniiiing!" A foxkin woman with sun-kissed skin and a shortbow waved cheerfully.

"Morning?" I echoed.

"I came to marry you, Dan!"

Yeah, the girl from yesterday. Apparently her imagination runs wild. Peace sign and stuck-out tongue included in the package.

----- End of chapter -----