The leaves of the forest began to shake, causing flocks of birds to fly off into the sky. As the leaves fell to the ground, a horde of spiders, slimes, and jellies appeared. Across the trunks and branches of the trees, the spiders crawled. They leaped from tree to tree as they ran through the forest. The slimes and jellies rolled across the ground as they smooshed against each other and the tree trunks. Even the more powerful creatures avoided the enormous horde. While they could easily snag a few, they didn’t want the entire horde descending upon them.

Behind the horde marched an army of goblins. In front marched a line of spearman five people deep. Behind them marched the other close range fighters. The third row consisted of the archers and crossbowman. The fourth row consisted of the mages, while the last row was composed of the officers.

Attempting to hold their lines through the dense forest resulted in the goblin army slowing down and falling behind the horde. The officers could only hope the horde held out long enough, so they could strike from behind while the ogre tribe was still busy.

Near the goblin army, the underbrush was crushed and moved due to the influence of the invisible hobgoblins.

Far to the right of these two armies was a small group of five goblins, a lumbering spider automata, and a single telepathic plant. The group had to maintain a walking pace, so Arc could keep up.

“Do we really need this spider?” muttered Cynthia.

“If the ogres are as dangerous as you say they are, then yes,” replied Mina.

“No offense, but it seems like a normal ogre could crush it in one hit.”

“As long as it can catch up to them, it can crush one of those boars with ease. ...At least, that’s what I heard,” said Pugi.

“I guess I’ll have to take your word for it. Mirielle couldn’t tell me the details of what she saw in the dungeon. By the way, why are the rest of you here? You wouldn’t be able to do anything against an ogre.”

“The lord ordered it, so we obeyed his order,” stated Mina.

“You mean the dungeon core, Ian?” A nod in response. “Okaaay, then. Well, why do you think he ordered you here?”

This time Izu replied, “Experience, I would guess. He had no problem ordering us to fight monsters we had no chance against just for that.”

“But, you respawn there right?” asked Cynthia, “Why take the chance of you dying out here? I can see ordering Yervin out because of his unusual abilities, but while losing you wouldn’t normally seem like much, he seems to care for you guys more than the other monsters.”

They all gave Cynthia light shrugs, while she muttered something about mindless drones and stupid dungeon creatures in response.

♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️

On top of a sheer cliff overlooking a stream stood a group of groonvat. They were having a stare off with the group of ogre sentries. The sentries carried large spears, seven meters tall that reached slightly above their heads. Heads with hair that flowed past their shoulders and beards that reached their chests. The other notable features of their faces were their bulbous noses, and their large tusks that curved from their upper mouth. Physically their arms and legs bulged with muscles, while their stomach jiggled with fat. The only piece of clothing they had was a single loincloth. These sentries were among the lowest rank of ogres with light tannish-green skin, which showed the ogre’s attitude toward the groonvat.

“Cynthia says the armies are approaching,” said the largest groonvat with tendrils of green moss cascading down his frame.

“Chief, if the dungeon’s armies are able to defeat the ogres, why should we acquiesce to becoming dungeon contractees?” asked a groonvat of nearly equal size but a lighter shade of green.

The larger groonvat sent an exasperated thought, “If the dungeon’s armies defeats the ogre tribe, then they would just come after us. Besides, the dungeon doesn’t intend to defeat the ogres.”

“What? Why? Even with the size of the armies it is sending?”

“I do not know. Cynthia tried to tell me, but it appears something was preventing her from doing so.”

“The dungeon?”

“A possibility, but we will only know that after we are dungeon contractees.”

Mumbles of discontent appeared from the other five groonvats behind the front two.

“Silence!” shouted the Chief. “We discussed this time and again before we sent Cynthia and Mirielle to the new dungeon. Another discussion of a decision that has already been made will not happen again!”

The discontent went away as all five groonvat stood straighter.

A rush of air sounded as a spear appeared in front of the chief, now floating in midair. With a thought, the spear flipped and zoomed back at the ogre sentry who threw it. The ogre sentry pivoted on his feet avoiding the blade of the spear and grabbed the pole as it flew past him. With a spin, he planted the butt of the spear into the ground and snorted at the groonvat.

“How long before the armies reach the ogres?” queried the chief’s advisor, the lighter green groonvat, ignoring the attempt on the chief’s life.

“A couple of hours for the horde, and a little longer for the goblin army. Cynthia and her escort of low rank goblins along with a spider golem will be here sometime in between,” replied the chief.

“Good. The ogre chief isn’t going to think our telepathic abilities are greater than they are for much longer.”

“Right,” the chief sighed. “Let’s start getting the rest of the tribe ready for the trip to the dungeon. However, make sure not let the ogres catch wind of it.”

“Of course!” shouted the group telepathically.

♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️

An ogre with hair to his shoulders and a trimmed beard flipped a dagger while leaning against a tree. He kept a bit of his concentration on the surrounding environment, but what would attack a full ogre tribe? Well, there was probably something in this forest that would, but nothing in the vicinity.

A small rumble caused him to miss the flipping dagger, which clattered to the ground. He grumbled and bent down to reach for the dagger, but the rumble was growing stronger, and his dagger was lightly bouncing. His arm snagged the dagger, and he focused on his surroundings. Soon, his eyes widened as he saw what was causing the rumble.

The entire forest in front of him was covered in spiders and slimes. He prepared to bolt back to the army, but as soon as he saw them closer up, he snorted. It didn’t matter how many of these things there were, only a few ogres would be lost at most. The chief wouldn’t want to be disturbed by such an army of weaklings. However, as a single ogre he lacked the ability to completely stop the horde. Then he could kill as many as possible, and the remaining horde would give the chief a mild distraction. The chief was getting annoyed by the standoff with the telepaths, and some solid physical fighting would do the tribe good, even if the horde was full of weaklings.

The scout ogre leisurely prepared his dagger to cut down as many of the horde as possible. However, he was not prepared for what happened next.

What he expected to do was fight only the monsters that directly interacted with him, that’s what happened with monster floods after all. He did not expect the horde to converge on him as soon as they caught sight of him. Before he could run, spiders and slimes were crawling all over him. He swung his dagger and empty fist at them splattering up to seven or eight at a time. The bites of the spiders and the acid of the slimes had no effect on him.

His true blunder occurred due to his pride as an ogre, “It doesn’t matter how many of you there are! You weaklings will be crush-ghhhk!”

As the ogre opened his mouth, the spiders and slimes that were attacking his eyes, nose, and ears all surged towards his mouth. They were not able to fit into the smaller holes, but the ogre’s mouth was a different matter. They crammed themselves inside and crawled down his throat. Legs that wouldn’t fit broke off as they crawled further down. Inside, their legs, fangs, and acid were able to find purchase against the soft tissue. Eventually the front runner either plopped into a vat of acid, the stomach, or began tearing apart a thin, porous membrane, the lungs.

The ogre’s eyes twitched with fear as he realized what was happening. He dropped his dagger and began trying to pull the monsters out of his mouth. However, with every monster he was able to pull out, another took his place. Eventually he gave up and closed his mouth and began to punch his chest and stomach. His efforts had no chance of succeeding as blood began to seep out of his closed mouth until he fell over dead.

A short while later, the spiders, slimes, and jellies that had not died crawled out of the dead ogre’s mouth and continued on with the rest of the horde.

♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️

The chief of the ogre tribe Kath’lak, named Magrok, sat upon a throne of bone and metal. Blood red braids cascaded down his shoulders contrasting nicely with his deep green skin. His beard, also braided, was a nice in between to the gnarled mess of chest length hair that was the common ogre’s and the well trimmed beard of the scout ogre. Unlike most ogres, which had fat bellies, the chief had chiseled abs, which worked perfectly with the rest of his bulging muscles. His black gauntleted hands drummed their fingers on the throne’s arms.

“Have the mages figured out how to combat the telepathy of those damn telepaths yet?!” he roared.

The entire camp of ogres, men, women, and children looked toward the throne and cowered. Unlike their well structured village, the camp was a mishmash of blankets, stumps, logs, attempts to construct shelters, and campfires. The only well built structures were the chief’s, his inner circle’s homes, and his throne.

“A couple more days and they should have a spell that protects from deep dives into our minds,” saluted the vice-chief Kurk.

Magrok growled, “Fine.” The thought of the gibbering messes that were his most powerful warriors beyond his inner circle preventing him from killing the mages for their incompetence.

As he waved the vice-chief away, an ogre scout ran up almost out of breath, “Sir! A monster horde approaches, it will be here any minute!”

“A horde? Of what? How many?” questioned Magrok.

“F-Finger sized spiders and slimes, sir. H-However-!”

Magrok’s enormous fist grasped the scout’s throat and brought him up to eye level, “You came to me out of breath for that?!

The scout’s face paled as air did not go into his lungs. He attempted to speak the words to calm the chief’s angers, but he could not voice them. In the hopes of preserving his life he did not make an attempt to claw at the chief’s arm grasping his throat.

Magrok tossed him onto the ground and yelled, “Out of my sight!”

The scout did not leave, but instead stood up and gasped out the rest of his message, “They blanketed the horizon, and did not behave like a normal monster flood. They aimed for our eyes, ears, and mouth. When another scout opened her mouth, the creatures rushed inside before she could even crush them with her jaws. Soon after she vomited blood. I decided I must get the information to you then.”

The chief stepped down to the scout’s level and punched him in the side of the head, “Start with that, you buffoon!” Magrok leaned down and pulled the scout to his feet, “Now that you have completed your duty, prepare for war!” The last part shouted to the entire camp. Shouts from ogres at the edge of the camp already indicating the arrival of the horde. “Kurk, establish the lines and get the mages. They’ll make a mind spell later. Now, they burn a horde.”

♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️

Trokur swung his two-handed battle axe slicing over ten of the horde in one swing. He ignored the others crawling all over him along with the irritating poking of his eyes. His mouth remained closed after he witnessed what happened to the frontline spearman, but with every swing he wanted to shout out for glory!

An shout reverberated through the ranks of the ogres, “Warriors! Do not lament! Even if you do not shout for the glory of the war god, he knows your will! Do not let the horde of weaklings win and keep your mouths shut!” The cry of the chief emboldened the warriors and made sure no more died foolishly.

Few spiders, slimes, and jellies made it past the well rested lines of warriors. A few wondered why they did not simply circle around, but went back to chopping down as many as possible soon after.

Not long into the battle, the war horns blew from behind. Immediately after, the horde that still remained in the forest erupted into a tower of flame. After the first tower disappeared another appeared in a new spot. Once a large swathe of area was covered in flames, the towers disappeared. The lingering flames sputtered out as a current of wind rose into the sky.

“Backliners! Relieve the frontliners! When they congregate, we’ll wipe them out again!” roared Magrok.

The cycle of switching roles, fighting the horde in close combat, and wiping out a large swathe with fire magic continued a few more times before the ogres encountered an unexpected occurrence.

Bolts, arrows, and magic flew in from behind. Most did little damage beyond a few puncture wounds or lacerations, but a few arrows were lucky and pierced the eyes of children and newborns. The non-combatants had retreated to the protection of the chief and his inner circle. Most felt intense self-loathing at the action, but the chief was more pragmatic than most and knew they were worth more to the tribe alive than dead.

Magrok’s eyes saw red as an arrow pierced the eye of an infant in its mother’s arms. A guttural roar erupted from from his mouth as he spun around. A short distance away in the woods was a large army of goblins. His eyes pierced through their lines, but he did not see any that would be a direct threat to him or his inner circle. Still, the goblin army was five times his whole tribe, with most of the warriors fighting off the horde. He couldn't pull them back as the non-combatants didn’t have the discipline to keep their mouths shut. He would have to decimate the goblins himself, while his inner circle protected the others.

“Kurk, protect the non-combatants. I’m going to destroy this trash!” Magrok prepared to leap into the fray at Kurk’s acknowledgment, but it never came. “Kurk!” he shouted.

“Sir!” one of his inner circle replied, “The vice-chief suddenly disappeared!”

Magrok’s head swiveled around. What?! How? Where? Suddenly he caught a rustle in the brush. His fist struck towards it. Even though his fist was quite a distance away, a fountain of blood erupted as a decapitated, black hobgoblin, with odd white circles on its arms, fell to the ground. He inhaled deeply. There was a goblin smell close, but he couldn’t pinpoint it. Dammit! Thoughts of how to cope with this invisible threat ran through his head, and only one option came to mind.

“There are invisible hobgoblins around! They can somehow make even someone as powerful as Kurk disappear! They are a much greater threat than the dismal army that approaches! Until the mages and the rest of the army finish off the horde, the inner circle and I will protect the non-combatants. For glory and the war god!”

“For glory and the war god!” roared all ogres not in combat.

Magrok kept his head on a swivel. He was the most likely to notice the telltale movement of an invisible enemy. The presence of such a large group of goblins was odd, there was no such tribe in the area. The most reasonable explanation then was the dungeon. But how could a dungeon so young birth so many goblins? Was the horde also from the dungeon? If so, not only was the dungeon powerful, but it had it out for his tribe. His brows furrowed in anger. The telepaths no longer mattered. For trying to wipe out his tribe, the dungeon needed to be eliminated.