˖⁺‧₊˚˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚˚₊‧⁺˖
After what felt like forever—which was probably less than two hours—they stood surrounded by bodies. The goblin clan was finally wiped out.
Or at least, that's what everyone thought.
The forest had gone dead quiet, like even the wind was holding its breath. No more guttural screeches. No rustling in the bushes. Just the heavy sound of boots squelching in black mud and the steady hiss of steam rising off fresh blood.
The whole clearing looked like a massacre site—green limbs scattered everywhere, rusted blades half-buried in the dirt, the air so thick with the stench of rot that it burned going down.
