CHAPTER 111: A CONFRONTATION, FIONA AND STEVE

The footsteps grew louder, heavier, as more towering goblins joined the ones already trudging forward. They advanced with brutal confidence, their guttural bellows echoing against the twisted trees. Thirteen in total.

Thirteen goblins, cornering Steve and Fiona from every angle, voices rumbling in harsh, primitive tongues.

The lead goblin—the one that had devoured their comrade whole minutes ago— stood proudly, still just a few meters away from the rock where Steve and Fiona hid. It’s jaws still stain with the fresh crimson thickness of the magic guard’s blood.

’Please don’t notice us. Please don’t notice us. Please don’t notice us.’

Steve’s thoughts spiraled, looping on that single prayer. Only thirteen, but far too many. He couldn’t control that many at a go. Not in any useful way. If they were spotted, without a shadow of doubt, they’d die.

Then it happened. The goblin which had remained focused on its approaching clan for so long, in a sudden stride, turned its head. Eyes gleaming as it looked down.

Right at them.

Steve froze, arms still wrapped around Fiona’s body, her rear pressing against his ribs. Her breath hitched, shallow and tense, just under his chin. They didn’t move. Couldn’t.

The goblin looked directly at them, obviously confirming that they were real.

Steve’s heart punched his ribs. His eyes locked with the creature’s as the chill in the air grew denser by the passing seconds

’Fuck.’

It had seen them. No question. It knew.

The goblin’s dark eyes flickered, its nostrils flaring. A breath passed. Then another.

And then... it looked away.

It resumed walking.

Step. Step. Step. No urgency. No signal to the others. It moved like a shadow fading from a dream.

One by one, the rest followed. The thirteen goblins turned and strode away into the forest, not a single one turning back.

Steve and Fiona remained still, still frozen, still pressed together behind the rock. Unmoving. Barely breathing, with only a single thought etched on their mind.

’....Huh?’

***

Clink.

Clink.

The soft metallic rattle of armor pieces brushing against each other filled the quiet campsite.

The magic guard’s sandals clicked against the pebbled ground as Steve tightened the last strap of armour across his chest. The dawn was breaking; a grey blush blooming in the sky, light creeping into the cold canopy.

Steve stood alone, with no sign of Fiona in sight.

Taking a breath, he gathered the rest of the gear—Fiona’s armor, still stained from the fight, still holding traces of her scent, and he bundled them into his arms, then walked.

Slowly, step by step, back to the stream where they had just recently encountered the goblins.

Where the guard had died.

And there she was.

Fiona knelt near the water’s edge, her hair matted, wild, strands clinging to her cheeks. She wasn’t crying. Her eyes were just... glazed. Empty. She stared at the bloodstained grass, the remnants of the incident, the life spilled and left behind.

Steve paused, watching her. She hadn’t noticed him yet, she was so absent minded, or perhaps broken, that her guard was completely let down. He stepped forward quietly, gently lowering her armor beside her.

"We made it through the night....but we need to move fast." he said, voice low, trying not to startle her.

She didn’t answer.

"...We had a plan, remember? To meet up with the others. We can’t let this stop us."

Still nothing. He was clearly audible, but still, she gave him no answer.

He paused momentarily, before stepping closer.

"....Didn’t you hear what I said?"

Her lips parted. She didn’t look at him.

"I heard you." she murmured.

"I just don’t care for it."

Steve blinked.

"Is that so?"

"Yes." Her voice was bitter.

"Because I don’t understand how you can say that. We lost someone. Someone we could have saved."

He swallowed.

’She’s bickering...to me? No...she’s objecting to me...hmm...that’s new. But...she has to learn her place’

"Oh, I’m sorry, Fiona." Steve replied, his tone sharpening.

"I didn’t know you had so much strength. Thirteen goblins. All alone. No sword. No backup. That must be how strong your strength is. A beast which took two high ranked magic guards to take down, you could handle in seconds, right? Why aren’t you an Eternal Class guard already? Must be an oversight." He thundered sharply.

She clenched her jaw.

"Why are you talking like this... Like you made the only choice?...no...like you made the right choice!"

She turned, eyes blazing, tears rimmed but refusing to fall.

And Steve—usually the calm one, the composed one—his voice cracked.

"If we moved then, we would’ve died. All of us. You, me. Dead. Don’t you get that? That goblin would’ve called the others and we’d be torn apart."

He stepped closer, now fully standing over her.

"And then what? Who would find Maggie? Who would report the attack? If those goblins aren’t reported, they’ll hit the next village. Then the next. Do you know what kind of carnage that would mean? What they did to Mirrors would be mercy compared to that. You have no idea what kind of nightmare we’re heading for if this goes unchecked."

Fiona stood now, chest heaving. She was close, closer than either of them realized. Her face was flushed, rage and shame battling behind her eyes.

He stepped forward, nose nearly touching hers.

"So don’t talk to me like I’m a cruel coward. I did what was smart. What I had to. And if you can’t accept that—if that doesn’t sit right with you—you can leave."

His voice dropped, dangerously low.

"This isn’t a democracy, Fiona. I make the decisions. You follow them, and if that doesn’t sit right with you, then you can leave. Is that understood?"

The air between them was molten.

She stared up at him, face trembling, fists clenched.

Her lips twitched...still, she didn’t stutter a response, or rather, couldn’t. She simply flickered her eyes away, pausing for a heartbeat.

"Fiona." Steve repeated, voice gravel.

"I asked you a yes or no question."

There was a long pause. And then she sighed. Shoulders dropping. The fire dimming, but not dying.

"Yes." she said.

"I understand."

"Good. Now put on your armor. We have to find the others. We need to get our shit together—"

SNAP.

The crack of a twig behind them cut the air.

Steve spun immediately, hands flying to his hips. His daggers came out in a fluid hiss of steel. He dropped into stance, crouched, angled, ready to strike.

However, Steve’s grip faltered for only a second, but it was enough. His gaze shifted, and he saw the source of the sound.

Ser Ira- the B ranked magic guard was alive- but only barely...