Chapter 32: Shadows in the Fog

The forest was eerily quiet, an unnatural stillness hanging in the air. Leav moved cautiously, his eyes scanning the trees as his warriors followed in tight formation. The recent skirmishes had left them wary, and with good reason—something was watching them.

Frot walked beside him, his usual smirk replaced with a look of concentration. "This isn't normal," he murmured. "Even the birds have gone silent."

Leav nodded. He had noticed it too. It was the same unsettling quiet that had preceded the Bonefang ambush weeks ago.

"Eyes up," he commanded in a low voice. "Weapons ready."

The warriors obeyed, gripping their crude blades and sharpened spears. Yorl, at the front, sniffed the air like a beast on the hunt. "Blood," he growled. "Fresh."

Leav's grip tightened on his dagger. "Where?"

Yorl pointed ahead, deeper into the fog-drenched woods. Leav motioned for the group to move, stepping carefully through the underbrush. The scent of blood grew stronger, until they finally saw it—a body, slumped against a tree, its throat torn open.

Not one of theirs. A Bonefang scout.

Weal knelt beside the corpse, his sharp eyes scanning the wounds. "Not a blade," he said. "Something… ripped him apart."

Leav frowned. The Bonefangs weren't known for leaving their dead behind. Whatever had killed this goblin had done it with raw force.

Frot turned, peering into the mist. "We're not alone."

The fog shifted. A shape moved—low, fast, unnatural.

Then the growl came. Deep. Guttural.

A shadow leapt from the mist, a blur of muscle and claws.

[Leav's POV]

Leav barely had time to react as the creature lunged. It was fast—faster than any goblin. He threw himself to the side as its claws raked the air where he had stood.

"Formation!" he barked.

Tear was already moving, swinging his heavy club. It struck the creature's side, but instead of breaking bones, the beast twisted, absorbing the impact before slashing at Tear's arm. Blood splattered the ground.

Yorl roared, charging in with reckless fury. His axe met flesh, carving a deep wound into the creature's shoulder. It snarled but didn't falter.

Leav got his first clear look at it.

A beast unlike anything he had seen before. Taller than a goblin but hunched, with thick black fur and glowing yellow eyes. Its claws were long, curved, dripping with fresh blood.

A predator.

"Keep your distance!" Leav ordered. "It's too strong for close combat!"

Weal was already preparing, dipping his arrows into a small vial of poison. He loosed one—it struck the beast's side.

Nothing. The creature snarled but did not weaken.

Poison-resistant.

Leav's mind raced. Their weapons weren't doing enough damage, and they couldn't afford casualties. He needed a plan.

"Tear, drive it back! Yorl, circle to the side. Weal, aim for the eyes!"

Tear swung again, this time going for the legs. The beast dodged, but it left an opening—just enough for Yorl to hack into its side. It howled in pain.

Weal took the shot. The arrow flew true, piercing one of its glowing eyes.

The creature screamed. It staggered back, thrashing wildly.

"Press the attack!" Leav shouted.

His warriors surged forward. Tear landed another blow, breaking ribs this time. Yorl hacked at its legs, forcing it down.

Leav saw his moment. He lunged, dagger aimed for the throat.

The blade sank deep.

The beast gurgled, its claws twitching—then it collapsed, unmoving.

Silence fell.

Everyone breathed heavily, weapons still raised.

Frot exhaled. "What in the pits was that?"

Leav pulled his dagger free, watching as dark blood pooled beneath the creature. "Not a goblin. Not a beast. Something else."

Weal inspected it, his brow furrowed. "Its body… it's too strong. Normal animals don't have resistance like that."

Leav frowned. "It wasn't just strong. It fought like it understood us."

That was the most unsettling part.

Then, before anyone could react—

The body began to change.

The fur receded. The claws shrank. The form twisted, bones cracking unnaturally.

A moment later, what remained was no longer a beast.

It was a goblin.

A dead one. But unmistakably a goblin.

Mutated.

[Frot's POV]

Frot stared. "That… shouldn't be possible."

No one spoke for a long moment.

Tear broke the silence. "Magic."

Leav's eyes darkened. "It has to be."

Frot didn't like this. Goblins didn't just transform. This meant something far worse than another warring tribe.

Trek, the shaman, had mentioned strange occurrences lately. Goblins acting differently. Some disappearing. And now this.

"We need answers," Leav said finally.

Frot crossed his arms. "From where? This isn't normal goblin business."

Leav looked down at the body. "Then we look outside goblin business."

Frot frowned. That was dangerous talk. But he couldn't deny it. They needed to know what they were dealing with.

Because if this thing had been a goblin once…

How many more were out there?

[Leav's POV]

Leav had seen many things since rising to power. He had led battles, taken down rivals, and carved his place in the tribe.

But this was something new. Something unnatural.

He knew one thing for certain—this wouldn't be the last.

"Burn the body," he ordered. "We're not taking risks."

Tear set it alight. The corpse twisted as the flames consumed it. The smell was foul, but they didn't look away.

This was just the beginning.

Leav clenched his fist.

Something was changing in the world.

And he needed to be ready.