The formation shifted, shields locking together along the northwestern edge. The shields weren't uniform, leaving gaps, but Jonah planned to drill them into a fully functioning army soon.

  Spears, swords, axes, and the occasional massive club bristled through the gaps. Ranged fighters took positions behind the front line, gathering mana. The injured and non-combatants huddled around the wagons at the center, protected by rings of armed humanity.

  "Hold the line!" Martinez bellowed. "Let them come to us! Don't break formation!"

  The corrupted tree line rustled, the sound gradually increasing into a violent shake.

  Then it exploded with green bodies.

  Goblins poured from the undergrowth in a screaming tide: no formation, no tactics, just raw numbers and primitive fury. Stone axes and wooden clubs were raised high, yellow eyes gleamed with bloodlust, and hundreds of voices shrieked war cries that merged into a wall of sound.

  They crashed into the shield wall like water against stone.

  The impact shuddered through the formation. Shields buckled, but held long enough for the defenders to regain their strength and push back. Spears thrust through gaps, finding green flesh and drawing screams that were quickly cut short. The goblins climbed over their dead to reach the humans, only to die on the same spears that had killed their kin.

  "Rotate!" Martinez's voice cut through the chaos. "First line back, second line forward! Keep rhythm!"

  The shield wall flexed, exhausted fighters falling back as fresh ranks stepped forward to take their place. The killing continued, a relentless cycle of thrust, withdraw, and thrust that transformed goblin aggression into goblin corpses.

  Mana bolts streaked overhead, targeting clusters of goblins attempting to outflank the formation.

  Arrows found throats and eyes.

  The mages, those who had recovered enough to cast, sent fire and ice surging into the enemy mass, creating gaps that the goblins filled with more bodies.

  Still, the goblins kept coming.

  The formation, however, couldn't extend to cover every angle. Committing too heavily to one side was dangerous; they lacked the reconnaissance to know what awaited them in the surrounding terrain.

  "They're probing our flanks," Jonah observed. The tactical overlay in his mind highlighted goblin movements, identified weak points, and predicted the next assault. "The eastern edge is thin. They'll try to wrap around."

  His eyes found Justin at the formation's edge, lightning crackling around the man. Then his gaze drifted back to the reserve lines.

  We can afford to divert a few.

  Jonah's eyes settled on a group that was overly protected, fifty fighters held in reserve, weapons ready but unbloodied.

  "Justin! Take fifty from the back right flank and hit their left! Cut through to the shaman! Kill the ugly bastard before he starts casting."

  The Lightning Titan's grin was visible even from this distance. "Finally."

  The strike force peeled away from the main formation. Justin led them at a sprint, angling wide around the goblin horde before cutting inward. Lightning arced before him, clearing a path through startled goblins focused on the shield wall.

  The flanking attack struck like a hammer blow.

  Goblins pressing forward suddenly found enemies in their midst. The primitive creatures lacked the discipline to respond to threats from unexpected directions. They were not part of the event war army led by a powerful Warboss and well-trained and equipped hobgoblins and shamans.

  They turned to fight, only to fall in droves as Justin's lightning leaped from target to target, and fifty human fighters carved through their ranks.

  Jonah watched the assault with cold satisfaction.

  The shaman. Justin needs to find the shaman.

  The robed figure stood at the goblin rear, staff raised, green light gathering around it. Curse magic, likely. Something to plague the human formation with despair, fear, or worse.

  Justin saw it too.

  The Lightning Titan broke from his strike force, sprinting toward the shaman, electricity trailing behind him like a cloak. Goblins tried to intercept him, but lightning turned them to charred corpses without slowing his advance.

  Orbs of thundering bolts appeared around him, cutting down anything that approached—a new skill he must have unlocked.

  The shaman's staff came down.

  Justin's lightning bolt hit first.

  The electrical discharge struck the shaman directly in the chest, bypassing its magical defenses. It blasted through the creature, leaving a gaping hole. The shaman convulsed as its spell framework collapsed, the gathered energy dispersing harmlessly into the corrupted air.

  It fell, smoke rising from its robes, the massive wound already cauterized.

  The goblin assault faltered.

  Without their shaman's direction and the magical pressure driving them forward, the primitive creatures suddenly remembered they were dying in droves. The aggression that had sustained their charge evaporated into confusion and fear.

  They routed moments later.

  The remaining goblins scattered into the corrupted landscape, fleeing in every direction, their war cries replaced by shrieks of panic. The human formation held, letting them run, unwilling to pursue into terrain ripe for ambush.

  Silence descended on the battlefield.

  Bodies covered the ground before the shield wall—hundreds of goblin corpses, piled three deep in places where the killing had been most concentrated. Human casualties were visible, too, fighters being carried toward Rebecca's position, wounds ranging from minor cuts to missing limbs.

  "Casualty count?" Jonah asked as Martinez approached.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  "Three dead. Thirty-seven wounded, but most will recover." The Spear Sergeant's face was grim. "Could have been worse. The flanking maneuver broke them before they could really test our lines with the shaman's abilities."

  "It should never have happened." Jonah's eyes found the scouts who'd let the goblin escape. They stood at the formation's edge, faces pale, staring at the carnage their mistake had caused. "Three people dead because four people couldn't follow orders."

  "What do you want to do with them?"

  "Nothing. Not yet. They'll carry this for the rest of their lives. That's punishment enough for now."

  The victory brought no celebration. People were too exhausted, too aware of how close they had come to defeat. Each person was too focused on the wounded and dead to feel triumphant.

  "C'mon!" Jonah's voice carried across the field. "Get the wounded secured. Collect weapons worth taking. We move in fifteen minutes."

  Groans answered him, protests born more of mental exhaustion than physical fatigue.

  "If this was their vanguard, their main army might be larger than the one we faced in the town! We need to press forward. Every minute we stay here is another minute for them to reorganize and hit us again."

  The protests died quickly.

  People started moving, loading the wounded into wagons and stripping useful weapons from goblin corpses. The dead were left where they lay, with no time or energy for burial rituals.

  Jonah pulled his core team aside.

  "Change of plans. The direct route to the river is compromised, leaving us open to night attacks from too many directions. We can't protect ourselves without fraying their nerves even more than they already are. That goblin tribe knows our position and direction. They'll set up along the obvious path."

  "Is there an alternative?" Martinez asked.

  "East, toward the mountains." Jonah traced the new route in his mind. "Harder terrain, but defensible. We can protect our backs against the slopes and mountain walls during the night. We'll form a perimeter before everyone settles in and establish patrol and nightwatch schedules with four-hour shifts. We need the men and women at full energy in case we have to fight an even larger number of foes. I know areas without major threats—I know where to go."

  "That adds time to our journey."

  "One day, maybe less if we push hard. But we'll arrive at the settlement stone alive instead of fighting our way through ambush after ambush."

  The faction leaders had gathered nearby, listening. Derek shook his head and frowned, but otherwise said nothing.

  Garrett looked relieved. Mountains meant defensible ground, something he understood and had been pushing for.

  Chen Wei simply nodded, accepting the tactical assessment.

  "The mountains it is. We move east until we hit the foothills, then turn north-northwest. The river crossing we need is accessible from that direction, too. We'll reach it tomorrow evening instead of tonight," Jonah said.

  The column reformed and began moving east.

  Jonah and the leaders urged them to move with more pace, but without any of the crazed urgency that would end up hurting them more than helping.

  The sun continued its descent toward the horizon, painting the corrupted sky in shades of orange and violet that no natural sunset had ever produced.

  Behind them, goblin bodies cooled in the strange light.

  Ahead, mountains rose against the skyline, their peaks touched by the last rays of day.

  Jonah led them toward the rising terrain.

  His tactical assessment fed him information about the new route. The foothills would provide excellent defensive positions. Several valleys he remembered contained no major predator dens, hidden dungeons, or threats beyond the ambient dangers of corrupted territory. They could make camp in relative safety and recover their strength, then continue toward the settlement stone in the morning.

  One extra day.

  The buffer he'd planned for complications was shrinking, but it still existed. They had time. Not much, but enough.

  Four days became five. Five still gets us to the stone before the deadline. We can do this.

  As twilight settled across the corrupted landscape, the column climbed into the foothills. The terrain shifted from flat suburban sprawl to rolling hills covered in twisted vegetation, and then into more mountainous areas Jonah planned to use as fortification and cover for their rear.

  Outcroppings of stone, some natural and some formed by the System's transformation, provided cover and concealment.

  "Here." Jonah stopped the column at a natural amphitheater formed by three converging ridgelines. The slopes rose on three sides, leaving only the eastern approach open—the direction they'd come from. "We make camp. Defensive perimeter along the ridgelines. Watches in four-hour shifts. No fires after full dark."

  With practiced efficiency, the camp took shape. Tents were erected and wagons positioned as the wounded settled in to whatever comfort they could find. Fighters manned elevated positions, their eyes scanning the darkness for approaching threats. Basic wood and stone fences went up, meant more to buy time than withstand a siege, at least until everyone could form up for proper engagement. Scouts began establishing a defensive perimeter and setting up watch posts. They placed signal fires beyond the camp, ensuring nothing could approach unseen in the night. Rotations remained the same.

  Jonah found a flat stone near the camp's center and sat, finally allowing exhaustion to claim its due. His body ached. The damage from Poliva's Touch pulsed with each heartbeat, a reminder of prices paid and limitations remaining.

  Rebecca hurried to his side, almost as if she possessed a sixth sense for his pain. "You should be resting properly, in a tent, with medical observation."

  "I'll rest when we reach the settlement."

  "You'll collapse before we reach the settlement if you keep pushing like this."

  "Probably." Jonah met her eyes. "But collapsing after we arrive is acceptable. Collapsing before isn't. Three people died on some bullshit today. Ridiculous negligence when I wasn't watching properly. It could have been prevented."

  She stared at him for a long moment, then sat beside him on the stone, her healer's instincts apparently accepting that argument as something she couldn't win.

  "The wounded from today's fight?"

  "Most will recover. Two might not make it through the night. The rest..." Rebecca shrugged. "System healing helps. My skills help more, but some injuries are beyond what I can manage at this level."

  "Do what you can."

  "I always do."

  They sat in silence for a while. The camp settled around them, eight hundred people finding what rest they could in terrain that offered no real comfort. Above, the corrupted sky showed stars that weren't quite right, constellations shifted by the System's transformation, celestial patterns no astronomer would recognize.

  "The mountains were the right choice," Rebecca said eventually. "I overheard Martinez talking. The terrain here gives us options we wouldn't have had on the direct route."

  "It does."

  "How did you know? About the safe areas, I mean. The skill you mentioned explains knowledge about the System, but geography? Specific locations without major threats? That seems different."

  Jonah considered his answer carefully.

  I've already started this lie and am too deep. I should have said nothing and given myself a bit of mystery... Now I have to keep lying just to cover the previous lie.

  "The skill provides more than just mechanical knowledge. It gives me... awareness of how the System transforms territory, where threats tend to concentrate, which areas become dangerous, and which remain relatively safe. I can't explain exactly how it works. It just does."

  Rebecca was quiet for a moment. "Chen Wei doesn't believe you. His group is usually close to the medical tents, they whisper like no one listens."

  "I know," Jonah said.

  "He thinks you're hiding something important," she replied. "Something that would change how people see you if they knew the truth."

  "He's not wrong."

  She turned to face him squarely. "Is it dangerous? Whatever you're hiding?"

  "To humanity? No. The opposite, actually." Jonah met her gaze without flinching. "Everything I've done, every decision I've made, has been aimed at keeping people alive, ensuring humanity's survival. Eventually, I will reveal knowledge that should be impossible, and it will save tens, if not hundreds, of thousands of lives."

  "But you won't tell us."

  "I can't. Not yet, at least. Maybe not ever." He looked away, toward the distant glow of the tower dungeon visible even from these foothills. "Some truths are too complicated to explain, too easily misunderstood, and likely to cause problems that would hurt more people than the secret protects."

  Rebecca absorbed that in silence.

  "Okay."

  "Okay?"

  "I trust you." She stood, brushing dirt from her robes. "Not because I believe your explanations, but because I've seen what you've done so far. The results matter more than the reasons. Just... don't make me regret that trust."

  She walked away toward the medical tent, leaving Jonah alone with his thoughts.

  The night deepened around him. Watches changed. The camp slept, or tried to. Somewhere in the darkness, corrupted creatures moved through territory that had once been a familiar suburban landscape.

  Tomorrow they would continue toward the settlement stone.

  Three more days of march. Three more days of threats and complications, and the constant pressure of keeping eight hundred people alive in a world that wanted them dead.

  Jonah closed his eyes and let exhaustion claim him, knowing that dawn would bring new challenges.

  It always did.

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