Chapter - 11 A talking goblin mage

The morning sun rose over the dense forest, its golden light filtering through the trees as mist curled along the ground. Near the waterfall, Dorian stood with Orin, a quiet understanding settling between them.

"It's time," Orin said, his voice steady. "I've taught you everything I could—the world beyond the sword. And you're now part of the group. It's time for you to walk your own path."

Dorian had expected this. Orin was never the type to keep someone tethered.

Still, a part of him felt something strange—a quiet weight in his chest. His training, his struggles, his rebirth into the Unbound… it was ending here.

He nodded, grabbing his sword and belongings. The weight of his gear felt familiar, grounding.

Then, after a long pause, he turned to Orin and bowed his head slightly.

"Thank you," Dorian said, meaning every word.

Orin smirked. "Don't make it sound like we're parting forever. You're Unbound now. Who knows where fate will take you?"

Dorian exhaled, smiling faintly. "Where are you sending me?"

"Near a town in the Albidian Kingdom," Orin said, his expression turning serious. "Your home kingdom, Valdarith, is in the middle of a great war against the orcs. If you truly want to start fresh, it's better to be somewhere new."

Dorian processed that, then nodded. "I understand."

Orin raised a hand, murmuring a dark spell. Shadows swirled around Dorian, the space around him warping as the magic took hold.

But just before the spell fully activated, Orin spoke again—softer this time.

"Dorian."

Dorian glanced at him.

For a moment, Orin hesitated—as if debating whether to say something more.

Then, finally, he smirked and tilted his head slightly, as if in approval.

"You'll be fine."

And with that, darkness enveloped Dorian—and he was gone.

Orin stood there for a moment, looking at the empty space where Dorian had stood.

He let out a breath, half amused, half thoughtful.

"Time for you to start your new journey."

*****

Unlike Valdarith, which was torn by war, Albidian was the largest and most prosperous kingdom among the three human territories. Located in the eastern part of the Central Green Land, its lands were fertile, its cities wealthy and peaceful. Merchants from across the continent gathered there, drawn by trade and opportunity.

But peace did not mean the absence of danger.

And nowhere was this clearer than in Border Town—as its name suggested, a bustling town at the very edge of Albidian, standing between human civilization and the mysterious Forestland of the elves.

Border Town was prosperous, its streets lively with traders, adventurers, and mercenaries. Even though the elves of the Forestland rarely interacted with humans, some still came to trade rare herbs, enchanted goods, or special weapons. Their presence was rare, but not unheard of.

The town was a place of opportunity and risk, where mercenaries thrived. And at the heart of it all was the Mercenary Guild.

The Border Town Mercenary Guild was as loud and chaotic as ever. Groups of hardened fighters, mages, and archers gathered around wooden tables, discussing missions, contracts, and bounties.

At one such table, three mercenaries sat together.

Bran – A middle-aged warrior, strong and experienced, with an axe and shield strapped to his back. His weathered face held years of battle wisdom.

Liam – A younger man, lean and sharp-eyed, a skilled archer who carried himself with confidence, if not arrogance.

Mia – A female mage, slim and slightly pretty, dressed in practical robes. She had a calm but observant nature.

The three were discussing a new mission they had just taken from the job board—a goblin extermination near the forest.

"It's dangerous," Bran said, rubbing his chin. "We might need more members."

Liam scoffed. "We don't need extra baggage."

Bran sighed. "Liam, experience tells me otherwise. Goblins are simple, but if they're gathering in numbers, it's a risk."

Mia, who had been silently watching them argue, finally spoke.

"…We might need more," she said simply. Then, standing up, she walked toward the counter to ask for recruits.

*****

At the guild counter, a young receptionist was speaking to a tall, dark-haired man.

What caught Mia's attention, however, was his missing right arm.

His face was rugged but striking and good looking, his posture relaxed yet strong. There was something different about him—not just the missing arm, but the way he carried himself.

"Exterminating goblins near the forest," Dorian was saying.

The receptionist hesitated. "That mission requires at least a small party. I can't let you go alone."

Dorian pulled out a red-rank mercenary token and placed it on the counter.

The receptionist's eyes widened slightly. "Red rank? That's impressive, but…"

She still hesitated. Even an elite mercenary couldn't fight alone forever.

That's when Mia stepped in.

"If you're taking that job," she said, approaching the counter, "you should come with us. We're on the same mission."

Dorian turned to look at her, analyzing her calmly. A mage.

Before he could answer, Liam approached, unimpressed.

"You're inviting a one-armed man?" he muttered. "We're fighting goblins, not carrying dead weight."

Dorian glanced at him, expression unreadable.

But before he could respond—

A sharp smack landed on Liam's head.

"Shut it, Liam," Bran said flatly.

Liam grumbled, rubbing his head. "What? I was just saying—"

"You were being an idiot," Bran cut in, then turned toward Dorian. His eyes studied him carefully, assessing rather than judging.

Then, after a pause, he nodded.

"You're no simple man."

Liam muttered something under his breath but said nothing more.

Dorian, still silent, finally nodded.

"Alright."

They exchanged a few more details before leaving for the forest, heading toward their first mission together.

*****

The road leading out of Border Town was well-traveled, but as they moved further, the signs of civilization faded. The dirt path narrowed, swallowed by towering trees and dense undergrowth. The air grew thicker, quieter, the only sounds coming from the rustling leaves and distant calls of unseen creatures.

The Forestland was close.

Bran walked beside Dorian, his heavy boots crunching against the dirt path. Unlike Liam and Mia, who were scanning their surroundings, Bran seemed more focused on Dorian himself.

"You don't talk much, do you?" Bran finally said, breaking the quiet.

Dorian didn't respond immediately. He wasn't ignoring Bran—he was focused.

Bran chuckled to himself. "A man of few words. I respect that."

Dorian remained quiet, his expression unreadable.

Then—his aura expanded outward.

The air around him seemed to shift. The others couldn't see it, but Dorian could feel it.

A presence.

No—many.

"...We're surrounded," he said simply.

Liam scoffed. "What?"

Mia frowned, sensing his seriousness. "Are you sure?"

Dorian didn't answer. His focus sharpened as his aura stretched farther. The goblins were closing in.

Liam sighed, shaking his head. "Look, I get that you're—"

Then, an arrow flew from the trees.

Straight for Liam's head.

Dorian moved in a blur. A sharp step, a sudden pull—Liam was yanked backward.

The arrow whistled past, cutting a strand of his hair before embedding itself into a tree trunk.

Liam's breath caught. His face paled.

A beat of silence.

Then—the screeches began.

The goblins attacked.

More arrows shot from the trees. Bran raised his shield, deflecting one, while Mia raised a hand, summoning a barrier of magic.

From the undergrowth, goblins burst forward—at least fifteen of them, small but quick, their beady eyes gleaming with savage intent.

Liam cursed, knocking an arrow. "Damn it!"

Bran charged forward, his shield slamming into the first goblin, knocking it off balance. His axe followed, burying itself in its skull.

Mia launched a fireball, incinerating two before they could get close.

Liam fired an arrow straight through a goblin's throat.

And Dorian—

Didn't draw his sword.

He didn't need to.

A goblin lunged at him, swinging a rusted dagger. Dorian stepped aside effortlessly, his movements fluid. The blade missed completely.

Then he struck.

His fist connected with the goblin's chest—a precise, controlled hit. Ki surged through his arm.

The goblin's body caved inward.

It flew back, slamming into a tree with a sickening crack. Dead in an instant.

Another goblin came at him—Dorian ducked under its swing, then swept his leg forward, knocking its feet out from under it.

Before it hit the ground, his palm met its head.

A burst of ki.

The goblin's skull shattered.

More came, but it didn't matter.

Dorian moved like a ghost, slipping past their clumsy attacks, his strikes precise, devastating, final.

It was over in minutes.

The last goblin fell, an arrow lodged in its chest.

Bran exhaled, pulling his axe free from a corpse. His eyes turned to Dorian, who stood calm, barely winded.

"That was… something else," Bran muttered, impressed. "Are you a orc disguised in human form?"

Dorian simply wiped the blood off his hand.

Liam, still catching his breath, hesitated before speaking.

"...Sorry," he muttered. "For doubting you."

Dorian gave a small nod, but said nothing.

Mia glanced between them before finally saying, "We should find a place to rest."

Bran agreed. "Yeah. No point moving in the dark."

They found a small clearing near a rock formation, slightly elevated from the rest of the forest. A good vantage point.

Bran gathered firewood, Liam set up traps, and Mia prepared defensive wards.

Dorian sat near the edge of the clearing, watching the treeline.

*****

The night deepened, the fire crackling softly in the center of their small camp. Shadows danced across the trees, stretching long against the dark forest.

They sat around the flames, eating the dry rations they had prepared—hard bread, dried meat, and a flask of weak ale. It wasn't much, but it was enough.

Bran took a bite of his food and glanced at Dorian. "You're impressive," he said between chews. "The way you fought back there—you didn't even need a weapon."

Dorian nodded slightly, offering no explanation.

Bran studied him for a moment before shaking his head with a chuckle. "Man of few words."

Liam, who had finally warmed up to Dorian after the battle, leaned forward, his curiosity clear. "That strength… how do you fight like that? I've never seen anyone move the way you do."

Dorian remained quiet for a moment before answering simply.

"Ki. Aura."

Bran, Liam, and Mia exchanged looks.

Liam frowned. "Ki? Aura?"

They didn't seem to recognize the terms.

Not surprising.

Even Dorian had never heard of them before Orin taught him. It wasn't something commonly known—only a select few in the world understood it.

Seeing their confusion, Liam pressed again, "What does that even mean?"

Dorian took another bite of his food and replied in a short, firm voice.

"I am Dorian. Just a mercenary."

The way he said it made it clear—he wasn't going to say more.

Mia, noticing the shift, smoothly changed the subject.

"Well, I suppose we should introduce ourselves properly," she said, offering a small smile.

Liam nodded. "Yeah. We're the ones who talked your ear off without telling you who we really are."

Mia continued, "Liam and I come from the same village, not far from here. We both wanted something more than just farm work, so we became mercenaries. Been at it for a few years now."

"We're both Yellow Rank," Liam added, tapping the ranked token on his belt. "Been working our way up."

Dorian listened, nodding slightly but saying nothing.

Mia glanced at Bran. "We met Bran on a mission not too long ago. Since then, we've been working together."

Bran swallowed a mouthful of ale and smirked. "Guess it's my turn, huh?"

He leaned back, gazing into the fire.

"I'm from Grista," he said. "Born there. Raised there. If you know anything about Grista, you know war and conflict aren't uncommon things."

Dorian did know. Grista was the most war-torn kingdom in the human lands.

Bran's expression was unreadable as he continued. "I grew up in an orphanage. Didn't know my parents. Never cared to."

He took another sip of ale.

"When I was old enough, I met a mercenary who took me in. Taught me how to fight, how to survive. After that, I did what I had to. Been a mercenary ever since."

He tapped his Red Rank token, showing he had climbed the ranks over the years.

Dorian listened without interruption.

Bran finished his drink and let out a small chuckle. "And now I'm here, sharing food with a one-armed monster who fights like a demon."

Liam laughed. "Yeah, hard to believe we thought you were just another rookie earlier."

Dorian simply ate in silence, absorbing their stories but offering none of his own.

For a while, the fire crackled, and no one spoke.

They were mercenaries, each with their own past, their own burdens. But for tonight, they were simply sharing a fire, sharing a meal.

The night stretched on, the forest quiet around them.

But somewhere, hidden deep within the darkness, something stirred.

*****

The night was still. The fire had burned low, casting faint embers against the darkened forest. Everything was silent.

Then—Dorian's eyes snapped open.

A feeling crept over him. A presence. No, multiple.

His aura expanded, sensing movement in the trees. Dozens—no, hundreds. And among them… one stood out. Stronger. More dangerous.

Dorian rose immediately, his instincts screaming.

"Wake up." His voice was low but firm.

Bran grunted in annoyance. "Damn it, what—"

"Now," Dorian snapped, his urgency breaking through the grogginess.

Liam groaned, rubbing his eyes. "It's the middle of the night, what the hell is—"

"Get up," Dorian cut him off, his tone sharp. "Now."

Something in his voice made them stop questioning.

Bran was the first to react, reaching for his axe. Mia and Liam scrambled to their feet, still half-asleep but moving.

Dorian's gaze swept the darkness. Too many.

"We're surrounded," he said. "At least a hundred."

Liam's face paled. "What?"

Bran cursed, gripping his weapon. "The guild request said we were just hunting a small goblin group. This isn't a nest. This is a damn army."

Mia swallowed hard. "H-how do you know there's that many?"

Dorian didn't answer. He just knew.

But before they could prepare—

A high-pitched screech echoed from the trees.

The goblins had realized their surprise attack had failed.

And now, they were charging.

The goblins came in waves.

Dozens of small, twisted creatures, brandishing crude spears, clubs, and jagged knives.

Bran raised his shield, blocking the first incoming blow and hacking through a goblin's skull with his axe. "Damn it! There's too many!"

Liam fired an arrow, killing one, then another, but they kept coming. "I'm running low on arrows!"

Mia raised her hands, summoning a fire spell—but her hands shook. There were too many.

She hesitated.

A goblin lunged at her. She barely dodged, her spell fizzling out.

Dorian moved instantly, kicking the goblin aside. He turned to Mia, his voice like steel.

"If you don't stay calm, we'll all die."

Mia's breath hitched. But she forced herself to focus.

Bran swung his axe, cutting down another goblin, but his breathing was getting heavier. "Damn it! There's no end to them!"

Dorian was cutting them down fast—but it wasn't enough.

There were too many.

So he took a breath.

And then—he unleashed his aura.

A wave of pure pressure exploded outward from Dorian.

The goblins froze.

Their beady eyes widened, their small bodies trembling under an invisible force.

Sweat dripped down their faces.

Some turned and fled instantly, their animal instincts screaming at them to run.

Bran, Liam, and Mia felt it too—even though it wasn't directed at them, they could feel the weight of it.

In that moment of hesitation, Dorian struck.

With precise, controlled movements, he cut down the remaining goblins while they were too paralyzed to react.

In minutes—the battlefield was quiet.

Mia collapsed to her knees, shaking. "We… we survived."

Liam exhaled shakily. "I… I can't believe that worked."

Bran wiped blood from his face, staring at Dorian. "What the hell was that?"

Dorian didn't answer.

Because at that moment—

A deep chuckle echoed through the clearing.

The air shifted.

And from the shadows—something emerged.

A goblin stepped forward.

But this one was different.

It stood twice as tall as the others, its muscles thicker, its grin wider. Its eyes burned with cruel intelligence.

And in its clawed hands, it held a wooden staff.

The goblin grinned, revealing sharp, yellowed teeth.

Then—it spoke.

"You humans…" Its voice was raspy, guttural. "Stronger than I thought."

Mia's breath hitched. "It… it can talk?!"

Bran's grip tightened on his axe. "I've never seen a goblin like this."

Dorian's eyes narrowed.

This was the strong presence he had sensed earlier.

The goblin's grin widened. "But not strong enough."

It raised its staff—and magic flared.

A massive fireball ignited in the air, burning hotter than anything they had seen before.

And then—it hurled it at them.

The fireball exploded.

Bran barely had time to raise his shield—the force sent him flying.

Liam tried to dodge—but the impact threw him into a tree.

Mia screamed as she was engulfed in the blast, her body crashing hard against the ground.

And Dorian—

Dorian moved.

At the last second, he shifted, avoiding the center of the explosion.

The flames scorched his arm, burning his side, but he stayed standing.

As the smoke cleared, he looked around.

Bran. Unconscious.

Liam. Unconscious.

Mia. Unconscious.

He was the only one left.

The goblin mage laughed, stepping forward, flanked by more goblins.

"Now, human," it sneered. "Let's see if you're still strong."

Dorian gritted his teeth, his body aching.

Alone. Surrounded.

And the battle wasn't over yet.