Zvica finally arrived where Snivrack was supposed to be, but from his vantage point, the area appeared desolate. There was no sign of Snivrack or his men let alone the main Goblin pursuit team sent before -- only the grand mansion and the intersection of many small and large buildings around the mansion. The signs of battle were visible as parts of the mansion were damaged. Zvica narrowed his eyes, his instincts screaming at him to stay away. He could sense the presence of an ominous figure learning somewhere at the mansion. The figure he was sensing through his magic sense was none other than Michael Crafter.

"No chance I'm going anywhere near that place. Where the hell is that idiot?" he muttered under his breath.

Zvica was not one to speak ill of goblins who relied on wit rather than brute force, but frustration gnawed at him. He had been forced to leave his post, and in his absence, there was no telling what Grukk might do. He reached out with his magical senses, searching for Snivrack's presence. However, instead of finding him or anyone else, all he encountered was an empty silence. Any signatures he did detect were unfamiliar. Not long after as he was moving over the rooftops of the buildings, he stumbled upon something far grimmer -- a goblin soldier’s remains, mangled beyond recognition. Upon close inspection of the remains, he noticed that the ears had been sliced off with a sharp object. A trail of blood could be seen following.

His pulse quickened as he followed the grisly trail, each step making the sinking feeling in his chest grow heavier. When he finally reached the end of the path, he found the ears of all the goblins piled on each other, confirming his fears. Just a few steps ahead Snivrack lay lifeless, his body twisted unnaturally, his eyes staring into nothingness.

"Damn it..." Zvica clenched his fists. The mission was beyond salvageable now. Without Snivrack and the failure to retrieve the fragment, this was no longer a setback -- it was a disaster. He glanced up at the night sky, gauging the time. There was no use lingering here. He needed to return to his post, check on Grukk, and order the retreat before the remnants of their forces were completely wiped out.

Moving swiftly, he cut through the battlefield’s outskirts, keeping to the shadows. As he neared his previous vantage point, he spotted movement ahead--goblins, but not in formation. They were retreating. More of them poured in from the edges of the battlefield, some limping, others barely able to carry their weapons.

Zvica’s stomach twisted. Something had gone wrong.

He intercepted one of the retreating goblins, grabbing him by the arm. "What happened? Where's Grukk? Where is the Commander?" he demanded.

The soldier, breathless and pale, gasped between words. "Commander Grukk is... dead. Slain by an enemy Leader. The troops--they’re in full retreat. There’s nothing left--we’re done!"

Zvica’s grip tightened momentarily before he let go. His eyes darted past the soldier, taking in the crumbling remnants of their once-formidable force. Goblins scattered in all directions, morale shattered, their movements erratic. If they weren’t careful, they’d be hunted down like animals.

Gritting his teeth, Zvica raised his hand and sent up the retreat signal, a pulse of dark but glowing energy streaking across the sky. A moment later, those still engaged in combat abandoned their fights, turning to flee.

Defeat.

Zvica scowled, watching the remnants of his forces scatter into the night.

"Damn it all..." he muttered. This was more than just a failure--it was humiliation.

And the worst part? He knew their enemies wouldn’t let them forget it.

Night had fallen over Arcana-Vale, the imperial capital, casting a veil of stars across the sky. The city below was alive with the murmur of trade, the clatter of hooves on cobblestone, and the distant hum of airships drifting between towering spires. From the balcony of the Aetherian Embassy, Seraphina Whisperwind stood in contemplative silence, a glass of deep crimson wine swirling in her grasp. The faint glow of enchanted lanterns bathed the chamber in a soft golden hue, their flickering light reflecting in her calculating eyes.

Her closest aide, a stern-faced yet loyal subordinate who had accompanied her to the meeting with Emperor Draconis Seraphus Rex III early the same day, finally broke the silence. “Madam, we know who the thief was. We also know which Faction the thief belonged to. Why didn’t we tell the Serpentonian Leader?”

Seraphina took a slow sip, savouring the aged richness of the wine before responding. “Because, my friend, we must never lay all our cards on the table when dealing with men like Draconis.” Gracefully set the glass down with a soft clink against the marble railing. “That emperor is too cunning for his good. If we give him every piece of the puzzle, he will easily turn it against us, just as he did when he betrayed us with the demons."

The aide furrowed his brow, gripping his glass a little tighter. “Still, withholding information might breed distrust. We are allies, are we not? Our end goal is after all same.”

Seraphina let out a chuckle, shaking her head. “Allies? Not quite. What Serpentonians want is the magic resource-rich lands of Helvetia. On the surface, our Goals might Align but what we are after lies a bit further than that. We are partners of convenience, nothing more. Draconis moves like a serpent in the dark, coiling around opportunity and striking only when the prey is vulnerable. If we had told him everything, he would have found a way to twist it to his advantage.” She exhaled, eyes drifting toward the endless expanse of the night sky. “No, it is far better to let him remain uncertain, to dangle just enough truth to keep him wary but not enough for him to act freely. After all, I believe his recent dealings with the Demons have brought him closer to what we want. If he gets the wind of the complete truth he might deny us what we want as a worst-case scenario. but it seems even the Demons are not fully trusting him just as we are.”

The aide sighed and leaned against the railing, gazing at the city below. “Even so, if all the players in this game are after the same thing, it won’t be long before he appears.”

Seraphina’s fingers tightened slightly around her glass. “Yes. And that is what concerns me.” Her voice grew quieter, more sombre. “If he shows up… then all of this posturing, all these careful manoeuvres, will mean nothing. Because when he arrives -- if he arrives, the game will no longer be one of strategy but of survival. That might explain why even the demons are keeping, Draconis in the dark.”

A heavy silence settled between them, broken only by the distant chimes of a city clock marking the late hour. The aide hesitated before speaking again. “Then we should prepare.”

Seraphina nodded, though her gaze remained fixed on the horizon. “Yes… but no amount of preparation will be enough if he decides to make his move. Looking at the recent theft the third faction has also begun to make its move.”

The atmosphere in the embassy grew tense, filled with unspoken fears and uncertainties. As their conversation faded into silence, Seraphina remained focused on the vast unknown before her, watching and waiting. She knew that soon, the balance of power would shift, and when it did, a storm would arrive.

And none of them would be ready.

***