The piercing shriek of the warning signal tore through Jonah's dreamless sleep like a blade.

  His eyes snapped open, met by darkness broken only by the faint glow of distant watch fires. The warning sounded again: three short bursts followed by one long note.

  Enemy contact.

  Multiple directions.

  Martinez's warning system, developed right before they separated.

  Jonah was on his feet before the third repetition ended, his body a chorus of aches protesting the sudden movement. The damage from Poliva's Touch flared hot along his mana channels, but he ignored it, grabbed his sword, and pushed through the tent flap into the cold mountain air.

  The camp stirred around him. Fighters emerged from tents, hands finding weapons, voices calling out in confusion and alarm. Some donned their armor with the help of others, while a few warmed up their bodies with stretches and exercise.

  His people were slowly turning into veterans.

  Gone was the groaning and bemoaning of just days ago. Now, everyone rose and followed orders, knowing that survival depended on it, remembering those who had done otherwise and died.

  Martinez found him within seconds, the Spear Sergeant's face tight with controlled urgency. "Signal came from the eastern watchers. Movement in the tree line."

  "Wake everyone. Full battle formation along the ridgelines. I want shields locked and spears ready before I reach the front. Move the medical tents behind, pressing the mountain face." Jonah did not stop moving as he spoke. "Get the other leaders up. Tell them we might have a fight coming."

  "Yes, Sir."

  Martinez vanished into the darkness, his voice rising to bark orders at passing fighters.

  Jonah picked up his pace, breaking into a run.

  His boots found purchase on the rocky terrain, carrying him toward the eastern perimeter where the signal had originated. Behind him, the camp transformed, eight hundred people snapping from sleep to readiness with a speed that would have been impossible a week ago.

  War had taught them well.

  Sarah materialized beside him as he crested the final, basic defensive fortification. Jonah made a mental note to improve his perception. Her ability to sneak up on him was enough to make him plan how to create detect spells and a constant probing mana barrier that would prevent assassins from sticking a blade into him.

  She was only tier 2, yet she could get so close before he recognized her.

  That required him to heal and finally use his newly unlocked skills to set up his passive spells and activate proper support skills to boost himself.

  "Report."

  She gestured toward the tree line fifty meters below their position. The defensive perimeter they'd established looked undisturbed. Watch fires burned at regular intervals, casting pools of orange light across the cleared ground. Fighters stood at their posts along the makeshift barriers, weapons ready, eyes fixed on the darkness beyond.

  Everything appeared quiet.

  Jonah noticed the bodies then.

  Dozens of goblin corpses lay scattered across the open ground between the forest edge and their defensive line. Arrows protruded from chests and throats, the fletching catching the firelight. None had made it closer than thirty meters to the barriers.

  "What happened?" Jonah asked.

  Sarah's expression remained neutral, but something flickered in her eyes. "The elevated watchers spotted movement in the trees ten minutes ago. Nothing distinct, just shapes shifting in the darkness. They raised the alert after the first pair of goblins tried to charge the lines on their own."

  "Those bodies?"

  She nodded. "Every few minutes, small groups would break from cover. Two or three goblins at a time, sprinting toward different sections of our line." She pointed toward the scattered corpses. "The archers dropped them before they got close. No coordination, no follow-up attacks. Just these suicide runs."

  Jonah frowned, his tactical mind churning through possibilities. He could only come up with one reason. "They're testing our lines for weakness?"

  The words felt wrong even as he spoke them. Testing implied intelligence, planning, the expectation of using gathered information. But their army had been asleep, their formations fluid rather than fixed. Any intelligence gathered from these probing attacks would be wildly inaccurate by the time an actual assault began.

  "Seems like it," Sarah said, though her tone held the same uncertainty he felt.

  "It doesn't make sense. We weren't in battle formation. Half our fighters were unconscious. Whatever they learned from these runs tells them nothing useful about our actual defensive capability. They could have charged us and caught us unprepared."

  Sarah shrugged. "Maybe they're not as smart as we're giving them credit for. Primitive goblins, remember? Not the organized army from the event war."

  Maybe. Or maybe something else was happening that he couldn't see yet.

  Jonah refused to underestimate the System at any level, even if he was still on floor 1.

  The camp reached full alert behind them. Fighters poured into position along the ridgelines, shields prepared and weapons ready. Ranged attackers took elevated positions, arrows nocked and mana gathering in caster hands.

  Standardization needs to be the next biggest step, as soon as we get to the settlement stone and place it at the floor's main tower dungeon.

  The three faction leaders arrived together, their faces showing varying degrees of alarm and irritation at being roused from sleep. Garrett's face held the edge of intoxication.

  Jonah frowned deeply at that. He would have to talk to the man. The last thing he needed was people dying because one of the leaders was tipsy during an engagement.

  "What's the situation?" Derek demanded.

  Jonah gave them the same briefing he'd received from Sarah: the probing attacks, the dead goblins, the shapes still moving through the distant tree line, and the complete lack of anything resembling a coordinated assault.

  "So we woke everyone for a dozen dead scouts?" Garrett's voice carried frustration. "My people need rest, not false alarms."

  Jonah kept his eyes on the forest. "Those weren't scouts. Scouts observe and report; these ran directly at our lines, knowing they'd die. Something's out there—something big enough to justify waking every fighter we have."

  Chen Wei studied the tree line, his eyes narrowed. "You think this is preparation for a larger attack?"

  "Yes. Look closely, and you can see bodies shifting within the shadows. They're definitely out there—"

  A sound reached them from the forest, but not the shriek of goblin war cries or the clash of weapons.

  Jonah glanced down. The loose pebbles before him vibrated, the tremor traveling through the ground itself until everyone felt it in their bones before it registered in their ears.

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  Thousands of feet moved in unison.

  The trees trembled. Branches shook and swayed as massive shapes pressed through the undergrowth. The movement spread across the entire visible tree line, a wall of disturbance that stretched for hundreds of meters in either direction.

  "Form up! Everyone to battle stations! This is the real thing!" Jonah shouted.

  The leaders scattered to their sections without argument.

  Jonah moved to an elevated position on the second line, where he could observe the unfolding events, searching for anything unusual as the forest disgorged its army.

  Goblins poured from between the trees like water through a broken dam. Hundreds, then thousands, their thick green skin catching the firelight as they assembled at the forest's edge. No formation, no organization—just a seething mass of primitive fury waiting to be unleashed.

  Stone weapons mixed with the odd rusty metal blade.

  Little to no armor.

  No organization anywhere.

  "That's a lot more than we fought yesterday," Sarah observed from his shoulder.

  "Three thousand, maybe four." Jonah's Tactical Assessment provided estimates based on density and distribution. "No hobgoblin regiments visible. No war beasts either. Just numbers."

  "Shamans?"

  "I don't see any circles forming. There might be individuals scattered through the mass, but nothing coordinated."

  The goblin army continued to grow as more creatures emerged from the forest depths. Their shrieking voices merged into a constant wall of sound, a chorus of hunger and rage that pressed against the human defenders.

  Martinez stepped up to Jonah's other side. "Lines are formed. Everyone's in position. What's the play?"

  "We wait. Let them come to us and weather our ranged attacks." Jonah gestured toward the rocky terrain between the forest and their position. "They have to cross open ground and climb slopes to reach us. Every meter costs them bodies. Our ranged units will thin their numbers before they even touch the barriers."

  "And if they have something special planned?"

  "Then we adapt. The backlines can rest while the frontlines hold. Switch them out when someone looks like they're slowing down. I want fresh fighters rotating in, not exhausted ones making mistakes."

  They nodded and dispersed to relay the orders.

  Jonah blinked as the horde halted in the middle of the kill zone. The human ranged units hesitated, glancing at him.

  They watched as the goblins clustered together.

  Jonah stood alone for a moment, observing the goblin army complete its assembly. The creatures showed no sign of advancing, content to mass their numbers, their screaming building to a crescendo.

  He could begin blasting them, but he searched for the hidden strategy.

  What are you planning?

  The question gnawed at him. Every engagement he'd survived, every battle from his first life and this one, had taught him that intelligent enemies always had plans, hidden cards to play at critical moments.

  The Warboss had held back its elite regiments until the walls were weakened. The shaman circles had coordinated their casting to overwhelm suppression efforts. Even primitive goblins showed cunning when properly directed.

  But this army revealed nothing. Just bodies waiting to throw themselves at his defenses.

  A battle horn sounded from within the goblin mass.

  The scream that followed shook the ground.

  Four thousand voices merged into a single roar of fury as the goblin army surged forward. No formation, no tactics, nothing intelligent that Jonah was expecting. Just a green tide racing across the open ground toward the human lines.

  Jonah frowned, tilting his head. He allowed the battle to unfold while his mind searched for the hidden threat.

  Assassins circling behind them?

  Elite troops concealed within the charging mass?

  Something he hadn't anticipated?

  Arrows and magic darkened the sky as Martinez and the other leaders signaled the attack.

  The ranged units along the elevated positions loosed coordinated volleys, their shafts raining down on the charging goblins. Bodies dropped in vast numbers, without armor or even wooden shields to stop the attacks. The creatures stumbled over their fallen kindred. The charge faltered as the killing began.

  Mana bolts streaked into the densest concentrations of enemies. Fire, ice, and raw arcane force tore through green flesh without resistance. The goblin mass absorbed the damage and kept coming, climbing over corpses to reach the human defenders.

  Sarah appeared at his side, her blade drawn but clean. "Everything alright?"

  "I don't like this." Jonah watched the slaughter unfold with growing unease. "I can't see their plan. What if they have something special waiting?"

  The system always has something special going on.

  The first goblins reached the barriers. Spears and weapons thrust downward from elevated positions, finding throats and eyes. Shields caught crude weapons and deflected them harmlessly. The defensive line held without strain, killing with mechanical efficiency.

  "Want me to take a special unit to find their leader? Cut off the head before they can spring their trap?"

  Jonah shook his head. "Not yet. No unnecessary deaths. We hold position until we understand what we're facing. Going in blind is sacrificing you."

  Sarah nodded and vanished back toward the front lines, leaving Jonah to watch the ongoing battle.

  Goblins crashed against the barriers in waves, each smaller than the last as ranged fire thinned their numbers on the approach. The slopes worked exactly as Jonah had planned, forcing the creatures to climb while defenders stabbed down at them. Bodies piled at the barrier bases, creating obstacles that slowed subsequent attackers.

  Then, lights flickered near the forest edge, and Jonah's attention snapped toward the glow. Green luminescence gathered around robed figures—shamans preparing to cast.

  "Suppression teams! Northwest sector!"

  The mages responded instantly. Mana bolts converged on the glowing figures with devastating accuracy. The shamans died before their spells could form, their gathered energy dispersing harmlessly into the corrupted air.

  More lights appeared. More shamans stepped forward to cast.

  And then more shamans died under concentrated fire.

  The pattern repeated itself, four, five, six times. Each attempt to establish magical support ended the same way: human mages obliterating goblin casters with overwhelming firepower before a single curse or acid bolt could threaten the lines.

  The goblin army began to waver.

  Jonah watched the change ripple through the charging mass. The creatures at the rear stopped advancing, while those in the middle looked around for direction that wasn't coming. The assault's cohesion fractured as primitive minds processed the reality of one-sided slaughter.

  They routed before half their number had fallen.

  The green tide reversed, goblins fleeing back toward the forest with the same mindless urgency they'd shown during the charge. Human defenders held their positions, letting them run and conserving arrows and mana for threats that actually required them.

  Silence descended on the battlefield.

  From his elevated position on the second line, Jonah stared at the carpet of goblin corpses that covered the slopes below. Nearly a thousand bodies. Maybe two thousand. All killed without significant human casualties.

  No Warboss had charged their lines.

  No hobgoblin regiments in gleaming armor had tested their shields.

  No shaman circles had coordinated devastating magical attacks.

  No assassins.

  Nothing.

  Just bodies thrown at prepared defenses until the bodies ran out of willingness to die.

  Martinez approached, his spear dark with blood that wasn't his. "Casualty report. Seven wounded, none critical. No deaths."

  "Good." Jonah couldn't erase the frown on his face.

  "Sir?" The Spear Sergeant studied Jonah's expression. "Something wrong? We just won a decisive victory with minimal losses."

  Jonah didn't answer immediately. He searched the tree line for threats that should have materialized, scanned the battlefield for elite units that should have exploited weaknesses, and listened for war horns that should have signaled hidden reserves.

  Nothing came.

  "It was too easy."

  "Easy is good. Easy means our people live."

  "Easy means I'm missing something." Jonah turned away from the battlefield, suddenly exhausted in a way that had nothing to do with physical fatigue.

  Martinez scratched his growing stubble. "Or it means this was exactly what it appeared to be: a primitive tribe throwing numbers at a problem they couldn't possibly solve."

  Justin appeared at the ridgeline, lightning still crackling faintly around his fingers. The Lightning Titan looked almost disappointed. "That's it? We didn't even need the shock troops. I didn't even get to fight."

  "Apparently not." Martinez shrugged.

  "What a waste of a good night's sleep."

  Below, Jonah watched his people celebrate. Fighters embraced, voices raised in relief and triumph as the tension of expected death dissolved into the joy of survival. They'd faced an army and won without losing a single life.

  More importantly, they didn't charge down the slope for loot and extra experience from the routing army before them.

  He should have felt satisfaction. Pride in the defensive doctrine that had turned a numerical disadvantage into one-sided slaughter. Relief that his people had survived another day.

  Instead, he felt empty.

  The battle had required nothing from him. No tactical adjustments. No desperate gambits. No impossible choices between bad options. The defenses had worked exactly as designed, and the enemy had obliged by having no answer for them.

  It felt meaningless.

  Is this what victory looks like when you're prepared? When you know what's coming and plan accordingly? Is this what I've been missing this whole time? I've never felt this way in my original timeline.

  In his first life, every battle he had led had been desperate, a scramble to react to threats he hadn't anticipated. He'd lost people to mistakes he hadn't known he was making. Victory had always tasted like survival, like barely escaping with enough people to fight again.

  This tasted like nothing at all.

  "Get everyone back to rest positions. Maintain watches, but let the off-duty fighters sleep. We continue toward the settlement stone at first light," Jonah said, walking away from the battlefield without looking back.

  The celebration continued behind him, eight hundred people grateful to be alive. Jonah understood their joy intellectually, appreciated that his leadership had preserved lives that would have been lost under different circumstances.

  But the emptiness remained.

  Maybe this is what competence feels like. Maybe this is the price of knowledge. Battles that should be terrifying become routine. Victories that should be celebrated become expected. Fuck. This doesn't feel good.

  He found his tent and sat on the rough bedroll, staring at nothing.

  Four more days to the settlement stone.

  Four more days of keeping people alive in a world that wanted them dead.

  Jonah tried to sleep, but it eluded him. He got up and left the tent, laying outside and looking up at the sky. Rest would not come with his mind so active.