The morning of the second day arrived, yet the fog still clung stubbornly to the forest.
Colin stood atop the outpost wall, unmoving, like a statue carved from stone. He hadn't slept, but there was no trace of fatigue in his eyes—only a sharp, unwavering focus.
At dawn, he had Sarah light a fire. The damp wood produced a thick plume of smoke that rose conspicuously into the sky, drifting deep into the forest like a signal.
An invitation.
A challenge.
The response came quickly.
Birds burst from the treetops, scattering in alarm. Moments later, figures emerged from the mist—eight soldiers, just at the forest's edge, a hundred meters from the outpost.
The remnants of the patrol.
At their head rode Falk, a young nobleman astride a horse, his expression twisted with disdain as he surveyed the crude outpost of rotting wood and stacked stone.
He saw fur-clad figures clutching wooden spears.
He saw frightened women and children.
And he laughed.
"A nest of vermin," Falk sneered, his earlier fear now buried beneath arrogance and anger. "So these are your 'forest demons'? Nothing but filth."
He drew his sword and pointed it forward.
"Listen carefully! Come out and surrender, and maybe you'll live as slaves! Otherwise, we'll tear this place apart and kick your heads around like toys!"
Silence answered him.
On the wall, Lina's face had gone pale. One of the younger women trembled uncontrollably.
Colin didn't react to the taunts.
His eyes moved calmly across the battlefield—counting, measuring, calculating distances, spacing, angles.
Every detail.
"Colin…" Goff's voice came, tight with nerves.
"Let them shout," Colin replied, his tone cold and steady. "The louder they are, the sooner they die."
Something in his voice steadied the others.
Goff inhaled deeply, gripping his bow. His arrow lowered, ready.
Falk's patience snapped.
"You deaf idiots!" he roared. "Charge! Burn this place down!"
At once, six infantrymen surged forward, shields raised, swords drawn, charging straight for the narrow entrance.
"They're coming!" Goff barked.
Tension gripped the wall. Hands tightened around stones and spears.
"Don't move," Colin commanded. "Wait."
The pounding of boots grew louder.
Fifty meters.
Forty.
Thirty—
"Now!" Colin roared. "Throw!"
The trap was sprung.
Stones the size of washbasins crashed down from above. Sharpened wooden spears followed in a deadly rain.
The soldiers reeled, caught off guard. Shields rose instinctively—
Bang! Bang!
Heavy impacts echoed. One shield splintered under the force, sending its bearer stumbling. In that instant, Goff's spear flew true, driving into a soldier's thigh.
A scream tore through the air.
But it was only the beginning.
The two leading soldiers suddenly found nothing beneath their feet.
The ground collapsed.
They dropped straight into a concealed pit.
A heartbeat later—
Thud.
Pfft!
Sharpened stakes pierced through flesh.
Two brief, horrified cries… then silence.
The sight froze the others mid-charge.
They stared at the blood-darkened pit, at their wounded companions, at the chaos that had erupted in seconds.
Their momentum shattered.
"Well done!" Goff shouted, and a wave of relieved cheers broke from the outpost.
Falk, however, exploded with rage.
"Pathetic fools!" he screamed. "Go around! Climb the walls! Kill them all!"
Forced onward, the remaining four soldiers spread out and rushed the sides.
The outpost walls were crude—uneven, jagged, full of footholds.
Too easy to climb.
The danger spiked instantly.
"Stop them!" Colin barked, snatching up his bow and firing.
The arrow cut through the air—but the target twisted, barely avoiding a fatal hit. The shaft only grazed his arm.
Another soldier, halfway up, knocked aside a woman's spear with a vicious swing.
And one more—
He reached the top.
Half his body rose over the wall, eyes gleaming with cruelty as he lifted his blade toward a defenseless woman.
"Watch out!" Lina screamed.
Then—
A bowstring thrummed.
Buzz—
Goff.
The old hunter didn't aim.
He simply released.
The arrow flew—
And struck.
Not the chest. Not the throat.
The eye.
The soldier's grin froze, twisting into horror. A strangled cry escaped him as his grip failed.
His body fell backward, crashing lifelessly to the ground below.
Silence followed.
Even the attackers froze.
Their eyes lifted slowly—
To the man on the wall.
Goff stood there, bow in hand, gaze cold and steady.
And for the first time…
The hunters felt fear.