As the last berserker slammed to the ground, the chamber fell silent only the flickering of candle flames filled the air. Aaron stood calm and alert, his breathing steady. The final wisps of wind from Gale Fang Cleave curled around him before fading completely.
In the Ember Ring chamber deeper in the cave, goblins froze mid-bite. The ground had rumbled. Dust drifted down like ash. Then came a deep, echoing *boom*. It rolled through the stone halls like thunder, shaking the walls. Goblins stood suddenly, wide-eyed. Weapons were grabbed. Voices shouted. A horn blew raw and shrill alerting the entire lair.
Footsteps thundered down the corridors.
But Aaron had already vanished into the shadows.
The first group of goblins rushed into the Shaman's Sanctum only to be cut down before they could speak. A streak of compressed wind tore through them. The lead goblin was launched into the wall. Two more collapsed behind him without knowing what had hit them.
Aaron landed silently among their falling bodies. He rolled, spun, and released another Gale Fang this one curved slightly, slicing through an archer's bow before it struck him in the chest.
Chaos broke loose.
Goblins screamed. Some turned back, others pushed forward in blind panic. But Aaron used the confusion. He flickered through shadows, his attacks fast and precise. Each step took down another goblin sometimes by wind, sometimes by blade, always before they could raise a proper defense.
He moved like a ghost used the substitution technique to always change the location. Then he would climb on the cave celling for another round of sneak attack.
The goblins never looked up.
Aaron crouched along the jagged ceiling of the Ember Ring chamber, cloaked in shadow and stone dust. Flickering firelight below cast chaotic patterns across the walls, but the ceiling remained untouched ignored by goblins whose minds were locked on the ground, on their weapons, on each other.
They had no idea death was perched above them.
He moved with ghostly stillness, stepping lightly across stalactites as chakra held him in place. Below, the tribe had gathered: elite archers lining the edges, swordsmen patrolling the tunnels, and common goblins crowding around the fire in uneven circles.
Aaron's fingers formed the seals.
Gale Fang Cleave.
He sent the first blade hurtling downward, silent as breath striking the archer captain through the chest. His body hit the ground with a thud, bow snapping in half.
By the time heads turned, Aaron was already moving.
He dropped from the ceiling mid-spin, unleashing a wide-range Gale Fang in a sweeping arc. The pressurized wind screamed through the center of the gathering, cutting down a dozen goblins before they could draw breath to scream.
Panic erupted.
He didn't slow.
Aaron vanished into the smoke rising from the fire pit, appearing on the far wall, upside down again, firing off another precise wind blade that pierced through two goblins trying to rally their forces. One fell forward. The other dropped without a sound.
Goblins tried to flee but Aaron was faster.
He moved across the ceiling and walls, raining death from angles they never planned for, never defended. Arrows whistled into shadows where he no longer stood. Traps meant for hallways lay useless.
The cave roared with wind.
A spiral of cutting chakra expanded outward, and when it cleared, only Aaron stood.
The cave was quiet now too quiet.
All around Aaron, the ground was littered with broken goblin bodies. Green blood soaked the stone floor in thick pools, dripping from walls and soaking into old dust. Severed arms, jagged spears, and cracked helmets were scattered like fallen leaves after a storm. The scent was overpowering a mix of iron, rot, and sweat clinging to every breath.
Torches had burned low, casting weak, twitching shadows on the walls. Some still smoked, knocked from their holders during the battle. The Ember Ring, once filled with voices and firelight, had become a graveyard of silence.
Aaron stood in the center, back straight, chest rising and falling slowly. His clothes were torn in places, smudged with soot, streaked with blood none of it his. Fine cuts along his arms and neck bled lightly, but he was steady. The last threads of chakra hummed faintly beneath his skin, still fading after the storm he'd unleashed.
He exhaled once, slow and long.
Then he began to move.
His steps were silent through the wreckage. He stepped over bodies, careful and calm, making his way toward the Shaman's Sanctum. The shattered orb still lay near the back wall. Behind it, slumped against a pile of torn scrolls and cracked pottery, was the Goblin Shaman's corpse its jaw frozen in a half-formed curse, lifeless eyes staring upward.
Aaron knelt beside the body. In the Shaman's stiff hands lay a twisted staff made from dark wood, bone, and sinew. It crackled faintly with leftover energy, but the true power was gone broken when Aaron had split the orb. Still, it might hold secrets.
Aaron stepped into the Shaman's crude tent little more than stitched hides stretched between leaning poles, stinking of smoke and decay. Inside, broken bowls and burnt incense sticks lay scattered, but his eyes were drawn to a wooden box tucked beneath a pile of ragged cloth.
He opened it carefully.
Inside, five blue stones glimmered faintly in the dark smooth, palm-sized, and glowing with a soft, ethereal light. Next to them were three uncut emeralds and a pair of dull red rubies, their edges chipped but still holding value.
Aaron paused for a moment, then silently slipped the glowing stones and rubies into his inventory. The emeralds he set aside less useful to him, perhaps more valuable to a merchant.
As he rose to leave, a thought clicked in his mind the bounty.
Each goblin ear meant silver. A fair price for a grim task. Without hesitation, he pulled out a clean kunai and moved through the cave methodically. One by one, he cut the left ears from every goblin corpse warrior, scout, elite. He worked in silence, efficient and unflinching, until his pouch was filled with proof of what he'd done.
When he finally straightened, the air hung heavy with the coppery scent of green blood and smoke.
But Aaron's hands were steady, his mission complete.