The early morning sun hadn't fully cast its golden fingers over Sylvas Reach. Mist still clung stubbornly to the forest floor, and the air held a cool dampness, heavy with the scent of pine and earthy moss. Noah stood a few paces outside a modest wooden building, the fifth mid-house from the Chief's manor, as instructed. Above the door hung a hand-carved sign etched in both Sanguese and Green Tongue, the Elvish script curling like vines:
"Sylvas Reach Registration House."
Valinish had just left him there with a nod and a casual remark.
"Go inside, register yourself as a visitor-trader. That way, if anything happens, the people here know you're not a threat. It'll help them trust you slowly."
Noah had nodded, though part of him wondered how much truth a single sheet of paper could carry in a world carved by swords and suspicion.
He lifted his hand and knocked.
The door creaked open, revealing a young elven woman, her hair silver-white and cut to her shoulders, her pale skin nearly glowing in the soft morning light. Her eyes were a stormy gray, and her expression was neutral but curious, clearly registering that he was human.
Just as she opened her mouth to speak—
BOOM.
A thunderous crash shook the very ground beneath their feet.
Noah flinched, turning instinctively toward the sound.
A large section of the western wooden wall had been obliterated, shattered timber still sailing through the air as thick dust bloomed outward. Through the jagged hole stepped a massive creature—a Yamagin. Half-rhino, half-human, its wide, hulking body was wrapped in sinew and leather scraps. Its single, forward-pointed horn jutted from its forehead like a spear, thick and chipped with fragments of the broken gate still clinging to it.
It stood still, snorting heavily, eyes scanning the village like a beast in deliberation.
Then came the silence.
Everything around Noah froze. Elves halted their conversations mid-word. Children stopped playing. Even the birds perched atop the tall evergreens had gone quiet.
And then the shadows behind the Yamagin shifted.
Goblins. Dozens. They poured through the gap like trickling oil. Small, quick, and viciously intelligent. Noah's eyes widened as he caught sight of makeshift slingshots, tiny bows, and even hollowed flutes that launched sharpened needles like blow darts. The goblins began launching projectiles from behind the Yamagin, using him as living cover.
Two elf guards fell almost immediately one struck in the back, another in the neck. Blood spattered across the packed soil, and gasps rang out.
But before panic could spread, an elven soldier sprinted forward his body morphing into a tree as he ran. Bark stretched across his skin, and his arms branched out, grabbing the wounded elves, cradling them like limbs. With a sudden pull, he receded behind a stone outcrop, dragging them to safety.
Noah ducked instinctively, watching as other elves scrambled into action. Some dove behind houses, others behind natural defenses like rocks and wide-rooted trees. The goblins were smart, firing and ducking before any retaliation could reach them.
Still crouched, Noah peeked up.
A soldier not more than twenty paces away stood tall and calm. From his index finger, a pulse of green light shimmered and snapped. A thin magical bolt flew, striking a goblin between the eyes. The small body collapsed instantly.
The other goblins, startled by the counterattack, hissed and quickly retreated, dragging their wounded behind them. The Yamagin did not move, still staring. Silent. Snorting. Waiting.
"Why aren't you lot chasing them?!" Noah shouted, stepping into the open. His blood was pumping. His instincts screamed for pursuit. "They're running! Hit them while they're weak!"
But no one moved.
The elf soldiers held position. Arrows nocked, fingers glowing with magic, their aim not at the goblins, but at the Yamagin, who hadn't flinched.
Then slowly, as if unimpressed, the creature turned around its massive body pivoting on cracked hooves and walked back into the mist.
And only then did Chief Lowarion Eucalypti step forward from the shadows, already surrounded by a cluster of armored scouts and two advisors draped in thick robes of deep bronze and forest green. Their garments shimmered slightly, threaded with protective runes and thorns etched in silver. Each carried a long staff embedded with a single white gem at the tip.
Lowarion's tall frame cast a long shadow in the morning light. His white hair swayed with the breeze, eyes sharp and unreadable. The potato-crab-like creature on his shoulder tilted its beady eyes toward the broken wall.
Without panic, without raising his voice, he turned to his troops.
"Two squads," he commanded. "Five soldiers each. Sweep outward, incrementally. Keep line of sight with the watchtower at all times. Do not engage beyond the tree line. I repeat do not pursue."
One of his advisors leaned in. "Shall I send scouts to tail the Yamagin?"
Lowarion gave a small nod. "Camouflaged. High branches only. Full retreat protocol if spotted."
The air was tense, but no one panicked. There was a rhythm to their response, a learned precision. It felt almost... familiar, like this wasn't the first time.
Noah stood there, unsure what to feel.
The elves didn't run. They didn't chase. They absorbed the hit, retained formation. It wasn't cowardice. It was calculation.
As the soldiers moved to their orders and the wounded were tended to, Lowarion finally looked over at Noah.
"You shouted," he said, a faint smile on his lips. "Why?"
Noah blinked. "They were retreating. I thought it was the perfect time to strike."
"And if the Yamagin had charged instead of turning?" the elf asked simply.
"I..." Noah's mouth opened, but he stopped. His hands clenched slightly.
"It's not weakness to pause," Lowarion added. "It's survival. That's why Sylvas Reach still stands."
*Inside the Manor (Later That Day)
Lowarion's manor wasn't grand. Not in the traditional sense.
It was made entirely of living wood, the walls grown and carved simultaneously by elf artisans who molded trees rather than cut them. The inside had an earthy scent rich, damp, and ancient. Light filtered in from woven root windows, casting leaf-shaped shadows across the floor. Lanterns hung from vines, emitting soft golden glows.
The Chief's chamber was round and tall, a canopy of green light and timber. At its center sat a large wooden table covered in hand-drawn maps, tokens representing troop formations, and parchment letters sealed in blue wax.
Lowarion stood behind it, still in his robe of pale green and gold leaf-embroidery. The small potato-crab still clung to his shoulder, chewing on something unseen.
Two advisors flanked him, now fully hooded. One of them carried a long-curved blade on his back slim but clearly sharpened. The other leaned on a staff of coiled rootwood, whispering quietly to a wind spirit only she could hear.
Noah stood at the threshold, slightly awkward.
"I suppose your registration will have to wait," Lowarion said lightly. "But it's not often humans shout battle orders in my village."
"I'm sorry," Noah replied quickly. "I didn't mean to—"
The chief raised a hand. "No need. You're new. You acted as someone unfamiliar with our way. But your heart... your heart was in the right place."
Noah frowned slightly, stepping forward. "Why didn't your people fight the Yamagin? Why hold back?"
Lowarion didn't answer at first. Instead, he walked slowly around the table and gestured for Noah to look at one of the maps. It showed patterns—attack routes, time stamps, diagrams of enemy behavior.
"He never attacks," the chief said. "That Yamagin has broken our wall eleven times. Never struck a single elf. He creates an opening... then the goblins pour in."
"A decoy," Noah murmured.
"Yes. And a psychological tool. We're learning that Yamagin aren't just beasts—they might be smarter than we thought. Or... someone smarter is controlling them."
The silence in the chamber deepened.
"Still," Lowarion said, turning back, "I appreciate your fire, Noah. It's... refreshing. But here, we don't act on impulse. Not anymore. Too many have died from such choices."
Noah nodded. "I understand. I'll learn."
Lowarion smiled faintly. "Good. That's all we ask."
END OF CHAPTER
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--World Facts for all--
Goblins
In the world of Neoabianka, goblins are not considered inherently evil. Rather, they are creatures shaped by harsh survival needs. Driven by hunger and the instinct to protect their fast-growing young, goblins often raid outer villages and borders in search of food, tools, and other resources. These attacks are not born from malice but from a desperate need to sustain their rapidly growing tribes.
Goblins reproduce at a remarkably fast rate, with gestation periods that last only a few weeks. Because of this, they are always seeking new areas rich in resources and shelter to accommodate their expanding population. Their society is organized into tightly knit tribes ranging from fifteen to thirty members, where loyalty to kin and tribe means everything. Despite their brutish appearance, goblins are social beings who care deeply for their own.
Physically, goblins have green-tinted skin that varies from mossy to dark olive shades. They are slightly shorter than humans, with heights ranging between 4'2" and 5'7". Their skulls are slightly larger than human skulls, with wide jaws and sharper, more prominent teeth. Goblins possess excellent vision in the dark, having evolved to live comfortably in caves or shadowy forest areas. Their most notable trait, however, is their highly sensitive sense of smell, capable of detecting familiar scents from up to six kilometers away.
Intellectually, goblins are more capable than they appear. Many of them can learn and speak languages such as Sanguese or Green Tongue, and they are quick to adapt. As scavengers, goblins wear whatever loot they recover — armor from fallen enemies, scraps of cloth, or handmade gear giving them a rugged, patchwork appearance. Their combat tactics are highly strategic. Rather than brute force, goblins rely on guerrilla warfare, hit-and-run attacks, slingshots, traps, and smart use of terrain to outwit their enemies.
Like all intelligent species in Neoabianka, goblins are bound to the Species Battle and Tactics (SBT) system. Though their power rankings are often lower on average, their skills tend to focus on stealth, evasion, ambush techniques, and natural weaponry such as poison-tipped projectiles or environment-based traps. Some goblins develop rare or unpredictable skills, often influenced by their experiences or mutations from their harsh lifestyle.
Though misunderstood and often hunted, goblins are simply another species trying to survive. Their cleverness, unity, and determination make them both dangerous enemies and, in rare cases, valuable allies if one can earn their trust.