Timberviel

The first light of dawn spilled over Smalllight Village, brushing the rooftops with a gentle gold. Though each of them had only slept for six hours, their bodies felt refreshed an effect of their rising levels and growing endurance. Nowadays, even three hours of rest could keep them running sharp throughout the day.

After a cool morning rinse from the well, the trio sat beneath the shade of the watchtower, sharing a quiet meal of dried fruit nuts, and baked bread. The air was fresh, laced with the scent of dew-drenched grass and simmering ash from the torches now burned low.

Auriel finished her meal first, brushing crumbs from her fingers as she spoke. 

"Today, Aaron and I will head toward Timberviel's Edge," she said calmly. "That's where the goblins were last sighted. We'll check for signs..."

Before she could finish, Aaron cut in, his tone respectful but firm. 

"No. You and David should stay in the village."

Auriel arched a brow, but Aaron continued, gaze steady. 

"David's our best support. He'll be more effective here, in case something happens. And with you staying behind, the village has real leadership while I'm gone."

He rose to his feet, tightening the wrappings around his forearms. 

"If I'm alone, I can move faster and escape easily if needed. My ninja profession wasn't made for teamwork it was made for scouting and assassination."

A quiet settled over them. David didn't object, and Auriel, after a brief pause, gave a single nod. She trusted him. They both did.

As the last of the morning haze lifted from Smalllight Village, the trio finished packing their gear in the courtyard beside the watchtower. The sun was just beginning to warm the earth, and birdsong laced the air with a sense of gentle momentum.

Aaron paused, tightening the last strap of his satchel. 

"By the way… there's something I've been meaning to ask."

David glanced up. "Go ahead."

Aaron hesitated briefly, then said, "Since we're a team… when we defeat monsters, do we all share the same amount of experience?"

David shook his head, cracking a slight grin. "Nope. It depends on how much each of us contributes during the fight. Like me I'm a driver, right? Even if I don't land the final blow, maneuvering or providing battlefield control gives me riding-based experience."

Auriel chimed in while checking the wand in her hand. "It's different for me. I only gain experience if I deal damage or eliminate the target myself. Support actions don't count unless they directly aid a kill."

Aaron let out a quiet breath of relief. "Good to know. I was worried about dragging the team down. I haven't reached level ten yet, so I'll head out solo today. If I run into goblins, I'll track their movements and try to find their nest before wiping them out."

Auriel's expression hardened. "Aaron, don't be reckless. Goblins may be low-level, but in caves? They're cunning. Trapmasters. One misstep could turn a scouting trip into an ambush."

She reached into her pouch and handed him a rolled parchment, sealed with a copper-red glyph. 

"Here. Take this a Flameblower scroll. It's single-use. Channel a pulse of mana into the seal and it releases a short-range burst of flame. Strong enough to injure or kill monsters below level 10. It's not subtle, but it works fast. Use it only if things get messy."

Aaron nodded solemnly, accepting the scroll and tucking it into his belt pouch. The weight of it felt both practical and reassuring.

"Thanks," he said quietly.

Auriel met his eyes. "Just come back in one piece."

.....

The forest of Timberviels rose like a wave of green flame, dense and layered, each tree a silent sentinel in the morning light. Massive trunks knotted with age stood spaced just enough to make leaping through their canopies possible.but only for someone with the precision, speed, and instincts of a trained ninja.

Aaron shot forward, feet barely brushing the moss-lined bark as he sprang from branch to branch. Wind whispered against his ears, the leaves parting ahead of him in bursts of motion. His clothes fluttered behind like a shadow half-seen, and his hands gripped limbs with practiced ease. Every movement was measured, fluid, quiet.

The Timberviels weren't just thick they were alive with unseen sound. Birds scattered as he passed, and the rustle of lizards in underbrush mingled with the damp hush of foliage brushing against itself. Far below, patches of sunlight broke through the canopy in flecked pools, revealing clusters of strange flowers, creeping vines, and the occasional claw-scarred trunk a silent mark of predators who roamed after dusk.

Soon, his ears caught something new not the pattern of wind or birdsong, but voices. Low. Guttural. Goblin.

Aaron halted on a branch and crouched low, eyes narrowing.

Through a gap in the branches, he spotted them four goblins in ragged leather scraps, hauling a bloodied wild boar between them on a makeshift stretcher of branches and twine. The creature was still fresh, blood trailing in lazy streaks over moss and fern. The goblins chattered in short, sharp bursts one carrying a crude spear, another limping slightly with a pouch of glinting metal tools.

They weren't on high alert. Just hunters returning home.

Aaron moved like a shadow between the boughs. He kept a dozen paces behind the goblins, far enough to stay out of sight, close enough not to lose their scent trail. The trees of Timberviels were his cover a living lattice of branches and vines that swallowed light and footfalls alike.

He gauged every step. Bark underfoot, angles of descent, tension in the limbs nothing was left to chance. He avoided dry leaves and loose lichen, landing only where moss or smooth bark muffled impact. His breathing slowed, shallow and steady. Even the birds ignored him now.

Below, the goblins trudged on, occasionally yapping in their shrill tongue. The boar's body dragged behind them in its stretcher, leaving streaks of blood in the underbrush a crude but convenient trail.

Aaron dropped low on a branch and studied the pattern of their movement: no scouts flanking the sides, no pauses for perimeter checks. Sloppy. Untrained. But he didn't let his guard down. Goblins were clever in all the wrong ways especially when protecting something of value.

Every now and then, one would stop to squabble with another, and Aaron would take the moment to leap silently to the next tree or reposition for a clearer line of sight. A single slip in timing could betray him. But the rhythm of the forest was on his side now its hush embracing his intent.