Kaen, at the head of a hundred royal guards, pressed forward, following in the footsteps of Thorin and his company as they ventured into the foul den of the Goblin-town. Their path was unrelenting—none who stood before them lived to tell the tale. Gods or demons, it mattered not. Their advance was like a tempest, breaking through the blackened corridors until they reached the very heart of the caverns.

There, before them, the goblins were preparing to strike Thorin and his companions.

Kaen had no time to spare.

They were too far to intervene directly, so he acted as only he could—by disrupting the enemy first. With a sharp command, he led his armored guard charging toward the Goblin throne at the center of the great cave.

He raised his sword high into the air and cried out:

"I raise this blade to the heavens! Let there be light once more in this accursed land!"

Even as his voice echoed across the cavern walls, Kaen cast forth a Light Spell.

A blinding brilliance burst from his sword, like a star brought down to earth, flooding the underground halls with searing white light.

The orcs—creatures of shadow—screeched and writhed, clawing at their eyes, retreating in agony from the sudden radiance.

Clad in heavy golden rune-forged armor, the royal guards charged into the disarrayed masses. Swords rose and fell. Blood stained the stone floors.

Kaen cleaved down the orcs before him and shouted toward the dwarves:

"Dwarves!

Take up your arms!

FIGHT!"

"Hrahhh!"

Thorin let out a bestial roar, his voice like a drumbeat of war.

The dwarves, hearing Kaen's rallying cry, seized their scattered weapons from the ground and rose to meet their foes with unyielding fury.

The Great Goblin bellowed as it came to its senses.

Wielding a grotesque weapon—half staff, half club—it roared in rage, commanding the orcs to defend the throne.

"Kill the intruders! Leave none alive!"

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But the creatures here—misshapen, malnourished—offered Kaen little in the way of growth. These were no worthy foes.

Kaen's gaze fell upon the monstrous goblin seated upon the throne—a bloated beast as large as a troll.

"With me! Forward!"

At his command, the royal guards followed like the tip of a spear piercing through the enemy ranks.

Shields raised, spears thrusting, they surged across the narrow bridges spanning the cave. Dozens of orcs were skewered or plunged screaming into the chasm below.

Soon enough, Kaen and his guards reached the dwarves.

He cut down the remaining orcs blocking the path and strode up to Thorin, eyes sharp with judgment.

"This was my mistake. I owe you an apology,".

Kaen scowled.

"Apologies are worth nothing. We're surrounded because we came to save you."

Indeed, all around them, goblins poured in from every crevice, howling and snarling.

The guards formed a defensive ring, shields locked, swords flashing, but the waves did not cease.

Shame stirred within Thorin's heart. He knew this peril was born of his own recklessness.

"What now?" he asked grimly.

"Only one path remains—kill the Goblin-king."

Kaen pointed his blade toward the throne, where the grotesque ruler bellowed orders. His eyes gleamed with cold resolve.

"Slay the beast, and the horde will scatter... until a new king rises."

"Do you have a plan?"

"No plan. Just steel."

"Good. Then I fight at your side!"

"CHARGE!"

Thorin roared, leading his twelve dwarves toward the throne.

Kaen lifted his sword and cried:

"For courage and glory!"

And the guards bellowed in kind:

"For Eowenría!"

They broke formation and charged together, abandoning all defense for one final assault.

These malformed orcs, though numerous, were barely as tall as the dwarves and possessed but a third of their strength. They were no match for trained warriors clad in blessed steel.

Crude blades and jagged spears bounced harmlessly off rune-etched armor. The might of elite soldiers was laid bare.

The dwarves fought valiantly. Though less equipped than the royal guards, their heritage as hero units gave them devastating might. Every swing of their axes felled foes like wheat before the scythe.

And none more so than Thorin.

A true son of Durin, with centuries of battle etched into his bones—he fought now as a legend reborn. His strikes split armor and skull alike. Yet even he was outshone by Kaen.

Silver and gold gleamed on Kaen's war-armor, and atop his brow rested the helm of kings.

He tore into the orcs like a whirlwind, his fists crushing bone, his sword slicing like divine wrath. Each blow claimed several lives.

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The Orc-king, seeing the tide turn, trembled on his throne.

Its bloated face twisted in fear, green bead-like eyes bulging.

"Kill them! Kill the cursed men and their damned blades!" it screamed.

"Great Morgoth, bless us! Deliver us!"

Kaen reached the foot of the throne, his sword levelled straight at the chieftain's heart.

"Your Morgoth is not even fit to smell my shit," he spat.

Thorin charged beside him, shouting:

"Durin above! Curse your black god, Morgoth!"

Side by side, they climbed the throne steps, cutting through orc-guards as if they were air.

And then—

Kaen's sword flashed.

In a single sweeping arc, he beheaded the Orc-king before all who watched.

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Level: 3 (254/400)

Thorin raised the severed head high with his sword and roared to the cavern's vaults.

The dwarves and the royal guards bellowed in triumph, their voices drowning out the orcish shrieks.

The disfigured goblins, seeing the head of their leader raised aloft, froze.

"Th-The king is dead!"

"Run! RUN!"

"Doom has come to Goblin-town!"

What had once been a frenzied horde became a panicked rabble, fleeing into the darkness.

Such was the nature of orcs—craven as individuals, yet dangerous in packs. But once their leader fell, fear would seize their minds, and chaos would devour them.

Kaen exhaled slowly, then kicked aside the corpse of the great goblin and seated himself upon the throne.

He pulled off his helmet, his breath heavy but steady.

Truth be told, the battle had cost him little in stamina. But that Light Spell had burned through half his spirit energy. Illuminating the entire cave in one burst? Only someone like Gandalf could cast such magic and call it a basic attack.

Thorin stepped forward, ready at last to apologize for his brashness.

But before he could speak—

"Has anyone seen Bilbo?" Balin's voice rang out. "He's missing!"

Bofur answered at once:

"I saw Mister Baggins earlier! He wasn't captured—he was hiding near the rope bridge behind the trap!"

At this, Kaen stood up sharply.

Only now, with the battle behind him, did he remember—

It was beneath this very goblin-town, in these deep and forgotten caves, that Bilbo Baggins would first encounter a strange, twisted creature... Gollum.

And it was here that fate would place the One Ring into the hands of a hobbit.