Amaia's claymore whistled through the air as four goblins lunged at her. Their crude bows snapping as a bunch of arrows bounced uselessly off her armor, the shafts breaking across her armor. Beneath her helmet, her mouth curled up faintly as she found amusement in their pathetic efforts to fight.
Amaia stepped forward, her claymore blade falling with its brutal weight. One goblin was cut in half from skull to it's groin, its body splitting apart in a spray of green blood. Amaia twisted her stance, pivoting smoothly, and her sword swept to the right as two heads went spinning free of their shoulders, blood spraying in arcs across the ground. The last goblin shrieked and tried to parry Amaia's blade with a scavenged sword. The rusted steel shattered on impact with the claymore, and in the same instant, his arm was cut clean off. The claymore carved through his chest and out his back, spilling entrails out onto the ground.
Amaia dragged the blade free and let its point crash into the ground. Thud. The ground quaked, and a crater cracked outwards from the claymore's weight.
Across the nest, Rem moved like a storm. Fire arrows shimmered into existence around her, one after another, until a full salvo of thirty circled her head. They hung in the air like glowing orange teeth waiting to bite. She directed them with effortless motion, launching groups of two or three at a time. Each struck its target with a squelch, bursting through goblin hearts and skulls.
A goblin shaman waved a feathered stick around summoning fireballs that spiraled toward her. Rem's eyes narrowed. She extended her hand, seizing the magic mid-flight, and with a curl of her fingers redirected it back at the shaman. The fireballs flew back and struck the shaman in his chest. His cries of pain rose above the chaos as his body burned up, collapsing into ashes at his own altar.
Rem didn't pause. More arrows appeared and then fired out, detonating on impact with goblins. Every hit blew goblins apart, scattering meat, shattered bones, and gore across the village. The stench of roasted flesh and thick green blood rolled out over the battlefield.
Still, more goblins poured from every hut. The swarm seemed endless. Rem raised her palm. As sparks crawled across her skin before erupting outwards as a surge of lightning. The lighting bolt tore into the nearest goblin, blasting its chest apart, then leapt instantly to the next.
Chain lightning jumped like a living serpent. It raced from one shrieking goblin to another, jumping from body to body. Fifty fell in a heartbeat, their limbs convulsing as skin burst and bones shattered. Explosions followed each strike as bodies exploded, shards of rib and femur fragments impaling the living goblins around them. In the chaos, whole groups of goblins were skewered by the bone fragments of their own allies.
Hundreds died in seconds.
Amaia slowed her sword swing, watching in awe as her lady's magic ravaged the battlefield. Amaia's claymore dripped blood as she whispered, "Truly, Rem of the House of Remembrance is a master magician."
The last goblin fell at her feet, its weapon trembling in his grip. Amaia ended it with a swift strike, its head rolling free across the churned earth. She released her sword hilt, and the enormous sword dissolved into a red light before vanishing, stored once again aboard the Arc for repairs and upkeep.
Silence fell. The only sound was the crackleing of burning huts and the faint groan of collapsing wood.
Rem walked across the blood-soaked ground, Ciara perched on her shoulder. The fox's two tails curled around Rem's neck like a scarf, her eyes bright and alert. Then Rem said.
"The fact that such a large nest of goblins could exist only ten or fifteen miles from Darkgloom is worrying," Rem said flatly. "I'll report this to Cindy Lou when we reach the border with the Dark Forest. Someone must have deliberately overlooked them. Even these creatures, in such numbers, could sack a city if unprepared. Do you think the dwarves are behind this? Who runs Darkgloom, Amaia?"
Amaia's brows furrowed beneath her helmet. "My lady, the city falls under the control of Frost Stone Kingdom, one of the largest dwarven nations. They control both surface cities and vast underworld cities. Most of their territory lies deep underground, where they mine ore for weapons. Darkgloom sits at the edge of their reach, far from their central kingdom. I'm not surprised by oversight slipping up here. But…" She hesitated. "This kind of error may involve higher levels of the city's government—or even the kingdom itself."
Rem's lips curved into a thin, eager smile. "Ooh, politics. I can't wait to get involved. Maybe I will take over a country someday. It would give me a foothold here on Elsera, someplace solid to operate from. Then, I can push forward with stage two of my plans for the revival of humanity."
Amaia remained silent, though unease coiled in her chest. Her lady spoke with such confidence, yet she couldn't help but wonder: how exactly did Rem plan to repopulate humanity, being its last living heir?
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