Chapter 10: Xenor Awaits

  The road to Xenor took a sharp turn into the unknown as the forest grew denser and the light dimmed beneath the canopy. The tall, gnarled trees stood like silent sentinels, their twisted branches clawing at the sky. The faint calls of distant wildlife had given way to an eerie stillness, the kind that made even seasoned travelers glance over their shoulders.

  Grek walked ahead of the group, his sharp eyes scanning every shadow. The goblin guide's usual lighthearted demeanor had shifted into one of stern focus, confusion evident, his body tense with vigilance. His green skin seemed to blend into the forest hues, but the bright yellow glint of his eyes gave away his position every now and then.

  Marcus, walking near the middle of the group, took notice. “Grek seems... different,” he muttered to Vira, who kept pace beside him.

  “Yeah… he does,” Vira said quietly. “This stretch can be dangerous—it’s just far enough from the city to be perfect for an ambush. Still, you’re right. A lot of strange things have been happening lately. Judging by the way he’s moving, he doesn’t know what’s ahead… but if anyone can sense danger before it hits, it’s him.”

  Boruk chimed in from behind, his heavy steps crunching fallen twigs. “Goblins like Grek are made for this. Keen ears, sharper instincts. They’ve always been survivors.”

  Vira nodded, a smirk tugging at her lips. “And traders. You know why goblins make the best merchants, right?”

  Marcus shook his head, curious despite the oppressive atmosphere.

  “They’re wired for it,” Vira explained. “That sharp intuition, that knack for reading a situation—it’s not just survival. They can spot value in things most people overlook. Grek’s good, even for a goblin. The way he handled those wolves yesterday? That’s rare.”

  “Rare how?” Marcus asked.

  Boruk answered this time, his gruff voice edged with respect. “Most goblins don’t bother with System abilities. Too risky. They take years to master, and if you get it wrong, it can kill you.” He scratched at his jaw, eyes following Grek, who was crouched ahead by a patch of disturbed earth. “Take his 'Beast-Tongue,' for example. Beasts don’t like being spoken to—not unless you know exactly what you're saying and how to say it. One wrong inflection and they’ll tear your throat out.”

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  Boruk’s gaze lingered on Grek, who was muttering softly, fingertips brushing the dirt like it was speaking back. “Grek’s the kind of goblin who’s stared down a hundred deaths and walked away from every one. If he says something’s off, you listen. Doesn’t matter how quiet he says it or how strange it sounds—just listen.”

  As if on cue, Grek straightened, his expression grim. He turned to the group and gestured for silence.

  “What is it?” Boruk asked, his hand already resting on the hilt of his axe.

  “Tracks,” Grek said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Fresh. Heavy. Not normal for this area.”

  Marcus frowned. “Heavy? Like... big animals?”

  “Not just big,” Grek said, his eyes narrowing. “Coordinated. Look at the spacing.” He pointed to the faint imprints in the dirt—deep claw marks in a perfect line, like soldiers marching in step. “They’re moving together. Like they’re planning.”

  Boruk stepped closer, his brow furrowing. “You’re sure?”

  Grek shot him a sharp look. “Grek says yes. You want to bet your life Grek’s wrong?”

  That shut everyone up. Even Marcus, who had grown accustomed to the strange and deadly creatures of this world, felt a chill run down his spine.

  “Keep moving,” Grek ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. “But stay alert. And keep the noise down. If they’re watching us, we don’t want to give them a reason to strike.”

  The caravan continued forward, but the mood had shifted. The easy banter from earlier was gone, replaced by a tense silence broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves or the distant snap of a branch. Every shadow seemed alive, every sound a potential threat.

  Marcus felt the weight of the atmosphere pressing on him, his body instinctively tensing. He found his mind wandering back to the unallocated points sitting in his system screen. Strength? Agility? Endurance? What would he need if something truly dangerous appeared?

  Ahead of him, Grek stopped suddenly, raising a hand to signal the group to halt. His ears twitched, his sharp eyes scanning the treetops.

  “What is it now?” Boruk asked, his voice a hushed growl.

  Grek didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he drew a curved dagger from his belt and crouched low. “They’re here.”

  Before anyone could respond, a guttural snarl ripped through the air, followed by the sound of branches snapping. A pair of glowing red eyes appeared in the darkness ahead, followed by another, and then another.

  The first beast emerged—a creature unlike anything Marcus had ever seen. Its body was sleek and feline, but its skin shimmered like dark glass, reflecting the faint light of the setting sun. Long, curved claws dug into the earth, and its mouth, filled with razor-sharp teeth, twisted into a snarl that sent a chill down his spine.

  More of them followed, circling the caravan with unnatural coordination. Their movements were eerily synchronized, each step measured, each growl timed.

  “They’re not normal,” Boruk muttered, gripping his axe tightly. “They’re too... aware.”

  Grek nodded grimly. “Grek says they’re being guided. Something’s controlling them.”

  Marcus’s heart pounded as he slipped into a fighting stance, his muscles coiled and ready. He glanced at his companions, each of them preparing for what was sure to be a brutal battle.

  Whatever these creatures were, they weren’t just animals.