Chapter 31. Scouting the apocalypse

  Raven woke before dawn, the lingering remnants of sleep still clinging to his mind as he made his way toward the plaza. The air was crisp, the kind of cold that seeped into his bones, but also helped clear his head. As he neared, he spotted Wilkes already waiting, standing near the fountain with arms crossed. A few of the men who would be accompanying them were milling about, adjusting their gear or quietly chatting, but the majority had yet to arrive. At least he wasn’t late.

  Wilkes caught sight of him and gestured toward the shop-turned-warehouse they had commandeered. Without a word, Raven followed him inside, taking in the setup. The back room had been transformed into a makeshift armoury. Though the supply was meagre, it was a start. A line of simple leather armour sat on the shelves, alongside stacks of shields leaning against the far wall. In the corner, a bundle of spears stood upright, their shafts looking newly polished, their tips gleaming in the dim light.

  Wilkes strode over to one of the shelves and grabbed a set of armour, handing it to Raven. "This is for you," he said simply.

  Raven took the bundle with a raised brow, only now realising that he had completely neglected to consider armour for himself. He had his weapons, his grimoire, and his phasing ability, but an extra layer of protection suddenly seemed like a damn good idea.

  Unfastening the straps, he started pulling the armour on. The chest piece was hardened over the sternum and ribs but remained flexible around the waist. The bracers fit snugly over his forearms, and the shoulder pads offered decent coverage without restricting movement. The shin guards strapped on easily, tight but not enough to hinder his mobility.

  It wasn’t perfect. His upper legs and midsection were still vulnerable, and he doubted the leather would stop anything substantial, but it was a hell of a lot better than nothing.

  Wilkes gave him a once-over before nodding. “Looks good on you. Hopefully it keeps you safe.”

  Raven adjusted the straps and rolled his shoulders, getting a feel for the extra weight. It was manageable.

  Wilkes stepped closer, his expression hardening. "Before the others get here, I need you to listen to me," he said, voice low but firm. "I know you can handle yourself, but this isn't just about you anymore. These men are relying on you to bring them back alive. The officers will lead the recruits, but the big decisions fall on you. I need you to keep your head straight and do what needs to be done."

  Raven met his gaze and held it, the weight of responsibility settling on his shoulders. The big decisions were on him. If he made a mistake, others might pay for it. This wasn’t just another scouting run—this was a test. A trial by fire to see if he could lead, if he could bring people back in one piece.

  He took a steady breath and nodded. “I’ll bring them home.”

  Wilkes studied him for a moment before clapping him on the shoulder. "Good. Now let’s get this show on the road."

  As the first rays of sunlight crested the horizon, the scouting party stood assembled in front of the fountain. Fully equipped with their new leather armour and weapons, they looked more like an actual force than the ragtag survivors they had been just days ago. The polished spears and shields caught the morning light, giving the illusion of discipline and order. Raven just hoped they could live up to it.

  The recruits were fresh—too fresh. They had trained for only a couple of days, barely enough to drill the basics and lacked the world weariness Raven associated with soldiers.

  Leading them were the officers, though unfamiliar with their new weapons, they had been in service long enough to have their heads on straight. They were men who had been through real danger before, who understood command and control. Raven would rely on them to maintain cohesion. No matter what they encountered, he would make sure they succeeded.

  Wilkes stood before the group, arms crossed, looking over the assembled team. His sharp gaze settled on Raven. “Everyone ready?”

  Raven looked over the faces of his squad. Some were tense, gripping their spears tightly. Others rolled their shoulders, adjusting to the weight of their armour. They weren’t battle-hardened yet, but they would get there.

  He nodded. “Ready as we’ll ever be.”

  Wilkes gave a firm nod. “Good. Stick to the plan. Avoid unnecessary risks. If things go bad, fall back to the sink. Don’t play hero and watch yourself out there. We need you coming back in one piece, kid."

  “I’ll try,” Raven said, but they both knew he wouldn’t walk away if people needed him.

  Wilkes let out a breath that was almost a chuckle before stepping aside. “Get moving.”

  With that, Raven turned to his team, a thought forming in his mind: These men are my responsibility. That weight sat heavy on his shoulders as he nodded to the officer in charge, “Move out.”

  The group exited the plaza, making their way through the barricades and into the empty city streets. The plan was simple: start by circling the hospital to confirm the area was still secure before heading south toward the apartment districts. Most of the city’s population had lived in that area—if there were still survivors out there, that was where they’d be.

  The further they moved from the plaza, the quieter the city became. The only sounds were the crunch of boots on broken pavement and the occasional distant call of some mutated creature. Raven kept his senses sharp, scanning their surroundings for any movement. He didn’t expect trouble this early, but that didn’t mean they could afford to be careless.

  The cityscape loomed around them, a mixture of modern structures and broken ruins. The apocalypse had warped everything, and there was no telling what lay ahead.

  Raven led the team down abandoned streets, scanning for any sign of life. What he found instead were remnants of the chaos that had consumed the city in the first days of the apocalypse. Bodies lay strewn about—both human and monster alike. Too many. Some were twisted and disfigured, evidence of desperate struggles against things that had no right existing. Others had been executed, whether by human hands or something else was unclear. The carnage painted a grim reminder of what had happened here.

  Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

  The further they moved from the sink, the more signs of trouble they found. The first few goblins fell easily, but when they encountered a patrol of twelve—some armoured—it became clear. This wasn’t random movement. This was a coordinated force.

  Raven wiped his blade clean on the ragged tunic of one of the dead creatures, his mind working through the implications. He’d been wondering where the goblins had gone. If they were patrolling, that meant they had a reason to do so. A base of operations. A nest. And judging by the numbers, it wasn’t small.

  He looked at his team. They were holding up well, though he could see the tension in their shoulders. A couple of the recruits had blood on their armour—not theirs, thankfully—but they had proven themselves in the skirmishes so far. Still, this wasn’t a handful of lost goblins anymore.

  As he gestured to the squad with quick hand signals, he felt a flicker of nervousness. What if they were heading toward something they couldn't handle? It didn't matter. They had a job to do—and if they needed to retreat, they would. We move forward.

  They moved cautiously, keeping their noise to a minimum as they trailed the direction the goblins had come from. The streets here were eerily silent, too still for comfort.

  At the end of the block, Raven spotted another patrol, about the same size as the last. He crouched behind a wrecked car, motioning for the team to take positions. The two men with crossbows moved up, finding elevation in the husk of a crumbling storefront. The shield-bearers tightened formation at the front, while the spearmen fell in behind them, waiting.

  It was a simple, efficient formation, one they had drilled back at the hospital. Raven gave them credit—they were learning fast.

  The goblins caught sight of them moments later, shrieking as they charged forward.

  Raven let them close the distance just enough before giving the signal.

  The first bolts flew, cutting down four of the goblins in an instant. The remaining creatures surged forward, slamming into the wall of shields.

  The men held firm.

  The goblins snarled and clawed, trying to find a way through, only to crash against a wall of timber and steel. Spears thrust forward in practised, measured strikes. Blood sprayed as goblins fell, skewered through the throat or chest, their momentum working against them.

  It was over in seconds.

  Raven exhaled, pleased with what he had seen. The squad had executed their tactics well. They had worked as a unit. That was exactly what he needed from them. It dawned on him how green these men were, how hard they had worked to get to this level.

  But there was no time to celebrate. The presence of multiple patrols meant something larger was ahead.

  And they were about to find out what.

  Raven signalled for the group to hold position as he crept forward to the corner of the street. Peering around the edge of a crumbling brick wall, he took in the sight ahead—and immediately swore under his breath.

  The apartment block at the end of the street was surrounded.

  Hundreds of goblins clustered around the perimeter, snarling and chittering as they pushed against the wrought iron fencing that enclosed the building. Scattered amongst them were at least five of the brutes—massive creatures, nearly twice the size of the others, their bulky frames covered in crude armour. Raven's fingers instinctively tightened around the hilt of his dagger. He still remembered the last time he had fought one of those things— the bruising force of its blows, the way its roar had rattled through his skull like thunder. That fight had nearly killed him.

  But what caught his attention next was the flicker of movement from within the apartment windows. People.

  A dozen goblins broke from the main horde, sprinting toward the gate in a frenzied rush. The moment they passed through the opening, a sudden whoosh of fire erupted from above, engulfing them in a wall of flame. Their shrieks filled the air, high-pitched and short-lived as their charred bodies collapsed into the growing pile of burnt corpses in the gateway.

  Raven's eyes tracked up to one of the windows, where a man stood watching the carnage unfold. Even from this distance, Raven could see the satisfied grin on his face as he observed the goblins burning. The blackened remains littering the entrance made it clear—this wasn’t the first wave to be met with fire.

  They’re not defenceless, Raven realized. Whoever was inside had held out this long, and they had at least one person capable of inflicting damage.

  That didn’t mean they would last much longer.

  Raven knew better than to assume the goblins were just mindlessly attacking. This was an organized assault. The patrols they had encountered before made sense now—they weren’t just random groups wandering the city, they were scouts and sentries. This siege had been planned, and with the numbers gathered here, the goblins would eventually break through.

  He didn’t know how long the people inside had left.

  Retreating to his squad, Raven motioned them into a nearby building, choosing one with intact walls and a good vantage point over the street. He turned to the group, his voice low but firm.

  “There are people in there, I need you all to stay here. Defend this place until I come back.”

  A few of the recruits exchanged uneasy glances. One of the officers, a broad-shouldered man named Reynolds, frowned. “You’re going alone?”

  Raven nodded. “I need to scout ahead, see what we’re dealing with, make contact if I can. If we charge in blind, we’ll get slaughtered. We need a plan.”

  The hesitation was clear in the recruits' expressions, but the officers understood. Reynolds gave a reluctant nod. “Be quick.”

  Raven smirked. “I don’t plan on sticking around for tea.”

  With a final glance at his team, he vanished into an alley. This was going to be dangerous—but so was leaving these people to die.

  Raven slipped between the ruins like a shadow, unseen as he moved through the streets. The goblins were everywhere, shifting in chaotic clusters, their guttural voices clicking in an alien rhythm. He tried to get an accurate count, but the horde was too spread out, their movements too erratic. A definitive count was impossible.

  He continued circling around the siege, sticking to the shadows. The further he moved from the main horde, the thinner the goblin presence became. They had concentrated their numbers toward the front and sides of the apartment complex, leaving the rear largely unguarded.

  Raven slowed his pace as he neared the back of the complex. A ten-foot-high brick wall stood tall between him and the apartments. It was solid, with no clear breaches, though vines had begun creeping over the edges. The goblins hadn't tried to topple it, likely fearing the fire-wielding defender inside.

  That worked in his favour.

  His steps slowed as something tugged at the edge of his awareness—a feeling deep in his bones. A presence. Ether.

  Another sink.

  He froze, tilting his head slightly as if that would make the sensation clearer. It was distant, not in the building itself but somewhere close. Yet, unlike the hospital’s sink, this one felt… off. As if it were buried beneath layers of something. It pulsed at the edge of his senses, flickering like a heartbeat just beyond his reach.

  What the hell is that?

  The pulse of ether wasn’t like the Sink back at the hospital. It felt strangely... alive. The sensation gnawed at him, but now wasn’t the time to investigate. Later. If he survived the night.

  Raven phased through the wall, stepping into the courtyard behind the apartment complex. The moment his feet touched the ground, he kept low, moving cautiously. The last thing he needed was to be mistaken for a goblin and torched by whoever the fire-user was.

  The air was thick with tension, a charged silence hanging over the besieged building. The glow of firelight flickered through the upper windows, casting long shadows against the cracked pavement. Every so often, the distant shrieks of dying goblins cut through the night, followed by the crackling of flames.

  Raven crept forward, keeping to the darkest spots, his body blending effortlessly into the night.

  Then, before he could react, he felt it—the cold press of steel against his throat.

  "Not another damn step," a voice hissed in his ear.

  Raven froze.

  The blade was firm, steady, held by someone who knew what they were doing. His mind raced, calculating his options, but before he could act, his captor spoke again.

  "You move; you die."

  Well. That escalated quickly