Fire Attack

Over the next few days, the goblins did not make any further attempts to break through.

Meanwhile, the other noble forces, led by Count Nigel, began to arrive one after another.

Every day, new banners appeared on the outskirts of the camp, and new tents were pitched across the wasteland. Within just a few days, this flat expanse—which had previously only hosted the small forces of Baron Raymond and Baron Barton—transformed into a massive coalition camp.

Baron Raymond rode to Count Nigel's main camp to attend the military council summoned by the count.

Nobles of various ranks and their military advisors lined both sides of a long conference table, the candles on the candelabras replaced batch after batch as the discussions dragged on.

Baron Raymond compiled the intelligence Roger had gathered about the forest caves along with the recent battle reports, presenting a detailed briefing to the assembly.

After presenting the intelligence, he offered his own recommendation:

“In summary, there is an unknown number of goblins and various beasts enhanced by dark magic still inside the forest. While taking the forest with our current numbers wouldn't be an issue if we chose to storm it, we would inevitably suffer heavy casualties in the narrow, wooded terrain. By then, our forces would be insufficient to launch an effective assault on the main goblin nest.”

His considerations were not born out of kindness.

The nobles present knew all too well that the army's core fighting strength consisted of a relatively small proportion of professional standing soldiers and an even smaller number of Awakened.

To put it bluntly, the conscripts were merely cannon fodder meant to hold the line and wear down the enemy's strength.

But even cannon fodder had its uses.

If they were to fight a tough battle, this cannon fodder should be spent on higher-value objectives, such as seizing the mountain passes or attacking the main goblin nest, rather than dying in vain within a forest of limited tactical worth.

The assembled nobles nodded in unison, seemingly in full agreement with this suggestion.

Simply put, no one wanted to lose their conscripts in a secondary skirmish to clear the woods before even reaching the main nest.

Before the cake was even sliced, no one wanted to break their own fork.

As the meeting drew to a close, Count Nigel finally made the executive decision.

Instead of sending troops in to clear the forest, they would burn it down. They would reduce the entire forest to ash and send men in afterward to clean up any survivors.

It was a simple and brutal decision. In a world where magic actually existed, burning a forest did not require waiting for the right weather or wind direction. It only required a mage proficient in fire magic and enough mana.

The count's decision was quickly conveyed down the chain of command by messengers to the various camps along the front line.

Baron Raymond also issued specific directives to his subordinate units that same day:

“Assist the allied forces in completely sealing off all forest exits. Should any creature escape the woods, eliminate it immediately. Leave no survivors.”

That evening, the setting sun painted the horizon in a deep, fiery red, mirroring the blaze that was about to erupt.

Knight Waters gathered most of the combat personnel on the northern defensive line, including Roger, and formed up in an open area about a hundred meters from the forest's edge.

Shieldbearers stood at the front, spearmen held the center, and archers took their positions on the flanks. A few scouts were dispatched closer to the forest edge to monitor the fire and any potential breakouts.

Not long after the formation was set, Roger saw several massive fireballs slowly rise from the ground in the distance, resembling miniature suns in the gathering dusk.

Trailing thick plumes of black smoke, the fireballs soared over the forest before crashing down with a deafening roar.

Flames erupted into the sky.

The fire spread wildly from the impact points at a visible speed. Thick columns of black smoke rose from the woodlands, billowing toward the heavens and staining the twilight a murky, dark red.

Even from a hundred meters away, the shockwave of heat rushed over them, accompanied by the crackling pop of burning wood and the acrid scent of scorching pine resin.

In a very short time, the entire forest transformed into a colossal furnace.

Standing on the small hill from before, Roger watched the burning forest without much sentimentality.

The goblins in these woods had to be cleared sooner or later anyway, and burning them out was indeed the most efficient method. He only felt a slight pang of regret that the medicinal herbs in the forest would likely be reduced to ashes as well.

After an unknown amount of time, a scout came galloping back from the edge of the forest, shouting a report to Knight Waters:

“Scattered goblins and beasts are escaping from the northern side of the forest! Estimated to be no more than twenty, and they're heading in our direction!”

Knight Waters squinted toward the forest, pondered for a few seconds, and shook his head:

“If they are just scattered stragglers, we only need to send a small squad to deal with them.”

Hearing this, Roger hopped down from the hill:

“I'll handle them. I'll be right back.”

Waters glanced at him.

Although he didn't quite understand why an Awakened would volunteer to hunt down a few fleeing small-fry, Waters didn't ask further and simply nodded.

Before leaving, Roger scrounged another twenty arrows from the archers, then quickly made his way toward the northern edge of the forest alone.

As he approached the woods, he spotted the panicked figures fleeing the area.

Thirteen goblins, with no mutated variants among them. The tattered rags wrapped around their bodies were scorched in several places, revealing soot-blackened, grayish-green skin beneath.

Roger stopped about forty paces away from the goblins, nocked an arrow, and drew his bow.

A second later, the arrow traced an almost invisible arc through the night sky, leaving the lead goblin with a clean puncture wound straight through its neck.

“Points +50. Balance: 1,790.”

Expressionless, Roger nocked a second arrow and continued to shoot. Every time the bowstring twanged, a goblin collapsed in front of him.

There weren't many enemies tonight, and the cleanup was over quickly. The thirteen scattered stragglers were swiftly harvested, earning him 650 points and bringing his balance to 2,440.

In the early hours of the morning, another unit dispatched by Baron Raymond arrived at the northern line to relieve Knight Waters and his men.

Roger returned to his tent, kicked off his boots haphazardly, and collapsed onto his bedding.

When he opened his eyes again, sunlight was streaming through the gaps in the tent flap, and the air was thick with the smell of burning.

Roger rolled out of bed and sat up, stretching his stiff neck before pushing aside the tent flap and stepping outside.

Thick black smoke still lingered on the horizon.

After burning all night, the fire had died out on its own, though vast stretches of charred trees were still smoldering in the intense heat.

After breakfast, Roger caught wind that Count Nigel had decided to send a search party into the forest to hunt for any surviving goblins and to check for any remnants left behind by the cultists.

He immediately went to Baron Raymond to volunteer, hoping to secure a spot in the search party.