Dual Realm Exchange System

That night, Otter Village was destined to experience an unforgettable event.

The first warning came from a dog that barked once near the eastern livestock pens, then twice.

Then its barking abruptly stopped.

A sleepy farmer stepped outside with a lantern while grumbling in irritation about ’that damn dog’ when an arrow struck him in the throat before he could even take two steps.

Seconds later, Dark Goblins poured from the darkness.

Naturally, this time, they came extremely prepared.

These were not the thirteen-man raiding patrol Damian had fought, but dozens of skilled warriors who rushed through the fields while archers took rooftops and shamans scattered black-violet powder over fences to prevent livestock from stampeding away.

The village bell began ringing desperately when the night guard woke up to the sounds of panicked pigs in his pen.

"ATTACK! ATTACK!" he shouted desperately, until a Dark Goblin sent an arrow through his eye and silenced him forever.

People first awakened in confusion, but the sound of panicked livestock and the ever-growing smell of blood made them quickly come to.

The village men quickly reached for old swords, wood axes, spears and farming tools while mothers pulled children toward cellars.

The Dark Goblins hit the village like a tidal wave.

Naturally, Otter Village had survived many storms in the past, from failed harvests, bandits, and even some monster attacks like Common Goblin raids.

But it had never faced an organized military raid of this scale from a CR 3 monster species who all had standard classes.

Varkas Blackroot walked through the eastern gate without hurry.

A Dark Goblin warrior dragged a terrified young woman from a house nearby and laughed crudely.

Varkas’s head snapped toward him. "Release her."

The warrior froze. "Chief?"

"We are here for food, supplies and obedience to the Horned One’s command. You will not rape prisoners." He commanded calmly.

The Dark Goblin hesitated, and Varkas stepped closer.

"If I see any warrior forcing himself upon a human, living or dead, I will cut off the part responsible and feed it to him."

The warrior immediately released the woman.

Varkas swept his gaze over the warriors nearest him.

"And no corpse defilement. Dead enemies are dead. We are warriors of Blackroot Goblin Clan, not animals rolling in carrion. Loot what can be used, kill those who resist, and anyone who disobeys me answers personally."

The order spread quickly, but it did nothing to make the attack merciful.

Homes were smashed open, villagers were cut down in alleys, and children had their necks snapped in their hiding places.

Several men formed a desperate line near The Otter’s Den and held for almost a minute before Dark Goblins surrounded them.

Fire began consuming one of the barns, then another.

Kellan ran through the chaos clutching his spear.

"GRANDPAP!"

He found Garrick outside the inn, and the old village chief no longer looked like an amused innkeeper.

He wore an old breastplate dragged from storage, battered enough to have seen decades of use while a long spear rested in his hands.

Behind him stood six surviving villagers.

"Kellan!" Garrick saw his grandson and felt relief.

"I’m here Grandpap. Let’s fight these vile monsters!" Kellan stated with anger in his eyes at the ruined state of his hometown.

"No! You’re going to take the kids in the cellar and leave now!" Garrick instructed while gesturing towards one of the other men to take Kellan away.

Kellan stared at him in disbelief. "What?! Why?!"

"Because you are classless! Now git to the west road, boy! Now!!" Garrick roared with growing irritation.

"I’m not leaving you!" Kellan roared back with tears in his eyes, and a defiant look on his young face.

Garrick’s expression hardened. "You think being a Fighter means dying whenever you’re angry? You have lives to save young man, save them first!"

Kellan’s face twisted, and before he could answer, the Goblins ahead suddenly parted as Varkas walked through them.

The old man’s eyes sharpened as the Dark Goblin Chieftain stopped several meters away and studied Garrick.

"You lead this place. You are their chieftain." Varkas stated with absolute certainty.

Garrick adjusted his spear. "I do indeed."

"Good. Then defend it. Defeat me and your people shall yet live to see another day, what remains of them." Varkas offered, reaching a hand towards his large poleaxe.

There was no mockery in the Dark Goblin Chieftain’s voice, only raw battle intent.

Garrick spat into the dirt. "I will show you why despite being mere kilometers away, species from the danger zones don’t enter human territory easily."

Without wasting time squaring up, as he was no longer a young man and had nothing to prove, Garrick immediately attacked first.

The older man simply took a step forward and shot like an arrow released from a bow, his spear flashing forward so quickly that Varkas barely twisted aside.

The blade cut across the Chieftain’s shoulder, piercing through the thick hide armor and even drawing purple-colored blood.

Kellan was shocked, for he had never seen his grandfather move like that.

He could tell that this was one of the Common Rank Fighter skills for a lance wielder called <Pierce>, but the one he practiced every day and what his grandpa just used were miles in difference!

Dark Goblins hooted and hollered, and even Varkas grinned, despite almost being skewered by this old human chief.

"Good!"

He drew his poleaxe and flourished it, causing wind to be displaced by his weapon, showing how heavy it was.

"Hmph, either level eight or nine. Quite a tough one, but nothing I haven’t faced before," Garrick muttered to himself with calculating eyes.

The next clash rang through the burning village as Varkas stomped the ground and leaped through the air like a rock thrown from a sling, using a general skill called <Enhanced Leap> that was bestowed to him after a blessing by a shaman.

Garrick quickly sidestepped and avoided the attack, which was the right choice as Varkas landed with a heavy ’thoom!’ sound and caused a small crater on the ground.

The older man gritted his teeth and took stock of his state.

He was stuck at Level 7 since his days in the frontier army of Rastia Kingdom, and retired to Otter Village to live out his retirement in peace.

He had three Feats and four skills, the Feats being <Double Strike>, which allowed him to make a second hit with the same attack if his luck rolled well, <Charger> a General Feat he took at level 4 which allows him to make a charging attack, which he had used earlier when combined with the basic <Pierce> skill, and <Polearm Master>, his class Feat he took at level 7 which boosted his spear mastery by one grade based on the base proficiency he already had, and granted him enhanced reaction speed.

His four skills were <Pierce>, a basic strike from a lance that could cause bleeding damage, <Sweeping Flurry>, a multi-strike sweep of a lance, using it to batter and bash foes within range, <Javelin Throw>, a throwing skill that allowed him to turn his weapon into a fatal projectile, and <Impale>, his prized skill, which allowed him to make four piercing strikes in one movement, dealing four times damage.

Old age had indeed softened Garrick’s body, but it had not erased decades of experience, especially since he kept up his training to teach his grandson.

As such, without burning through his stamina foolishly, Garrick’s spear moved economically, with no wasted flourishes nor any heroic poses.

Every thrust of his was fast as lightning and targeted the throat, knee, eye or heart.

Just looking at him fight was awe-inspiring, like watching a legendary warrior given flesh.

On the other side, Varkas possessed greater strength and vitality than Garrick.

He was not nearly as deft or perceptive as the older man, and while Garrick could land the occasional glancing strike and draw blood, it did nothing to slow down Varkas.

In fact, this rather seemed to stimulate the ferocity of the Dark Goblin, whose wide swings and overhand smashes continually reshaped the landscape around The Otter’s Den.

Forget countering, it was likely that if Garrick got hit by one of these blows, both he and his prized spear would be cleaved in half!

The fight raged on as it became fiercer and fiercer, then faster and faster.

The spear in Garrick’s hand was like a silver blur, piercing Varkas’s forearm, then his thigh, both dealing significant damage.

As a result of this, the Chieftain’s poleaxe cut Garrick’s breastplate but failed to penetrate fully as the older man darted backward just in time.

Kellan watched with widening eyes. "Grandpap..."

Hope ignited in his heart, because he saw it, and the villagers saw it too.

Their chief was... winning!

Garrick drove Varkas backward once, twice, then a third time.

Seeing his opportunity, the older man roared and launched a thrust straight toward Varkas’s throat.

<Impale>!

Four spear lights appeared, one being the original strike and three manifested from attributeless magical energy that all aimed at the same spot as if stacked together.

The alarmed Dark Goblin Chieftain failed to evade completely, only able to sacrifice his left shoulder as the spear ran through and partially impaled him on it.

Blood sprayed, causing the Dark Goblins to scream in alarm and the villagers to exclaim in joy.

Varkas staggered backward, blinking with surprise but not seeming panicked at all.

Immediately, Garrick stepped forward for the finishing strike, pulling his spear out and getting ready to use <Impale> once more, but then... it was over.

Garrick took one step, and suddenly, almost everyone could hear a sickening ’cracking’ sound from his body.

The Otter Village Chief’s chest seized, and his valiant spear stopped in place as his eyes widened with horror.

For one horrible second, his breathing simply refused to work.

Countless thoughts scattered through his head, reason being due to his age, old wounds erupting, or a heart pushed far beyond what it could still sustain.

But when he looked up, all he saw was the confident yet calm glance of Varkas, and immediately understood.

Well... it turned out he hadn’t actually dodged that strike.

He may have avoided the sharp edge of the poleaxe cutting his chest open, but the force of the swing, and the sheer maddening strength behind it, had rattled his organs enough to cause irreparable damage.

Kellan screamed. "GRANDPAP!"

Garrick remained standing somehow, trying to muster strength to lift his spear even as blood leaked from his eyes, ears and nose like a leaky faucet.

He looked down at the lash mark on his breastplate, then raised his eyes toward Varkas.

"Boy..."

Kellan stumbled forward.

Garrick turned his head just enough to see him.

"Run."

Garrick collapsed, and a desperate and disbelieving Kellan fell beside him.

"No, no, no! Grandpap! GRANDPAP!"

The old man’s hand moved weakly and touched Kellan’s head.

For years, that hand had knocked him whenever he skipped spear practice, dragged him away from stupid ideas, and served him food.

Now the hand simply rested there, full of an old man’s love.

"Live..."

Then it fell.

Kellan stared in stupefaction, and at this moment, something inside the young man shattered like fragile glass.

He grabbed his grandfather’s spear and surged upright with a scream, charging at Varkas with hate in his eyes.

But the Dark Goblin Chieftain merely caught the shaft in one hand, completely arresting Kellan’s momentum.

"Let go, you fucking monster!" Kellan roared as he furiously pulled back, but nothing happened.

The Dark Goblin Chieftain looked down at him, seeing that hatred burned in the teenager’s eyes so violently that even nearby Goblins became quiet.

"Kill me! Fucking kill me too!" Kellan screamed with despair and anger at his own weakness.

However, Varkas looked deeply at Garrick’s corpse, then at the hole in his left shoulder, and released the spear.

"No, you will not die this night." Varkas declared, causing Kellan to freeze.

Varkas’s gaze was deep with meaning. "Your old one fought well. I have not been pressured like this in a long time."

Varkas turned away. "Leave. Run to the human town and seek shelter, warn them, whatever."

Kellan snapped out of his stupor, his eyes bloodshot. "I’ll kill you! One day, I will kill you all!"

Varkas stopped and casually looked over his shoulder. "Then grow strong enough and honor your chief, human boy."

He faced his warriors.

"Let the young human pass."

No one questioned him.

Kellan stood there for several seconds, tears running freely down his face, then he looked one last time at his grandfather, who died wishing he would live no matter what.

As such, the boy turned and ran as behind him, Otter Village was razed to the ground.

The surviving defenders were overwhelmed and slaughtered one by one, the granaries were emptied, and surviving livestock were driven east to Blackroot Den.

Coin boxes, weapons, preserved food, tools, cloth, medicine and anything remotely valuable disappeared into Goblin hands.

By the time Kellan reached the distant hill overlooking his home, there was not another living human left within Otter Village.

Then the flames rose, and The Otter’s Den caught first.

The inn where Damian had eaten lamb chops and laughed with Garrick became an orange furnace.

Homes built of stone and wood collapsed, fertile fields burned, and smoke swallowed the stars.

Farther away, Boar Village and Bison Village suffered beneath similar raids.

Three settlements, three messages.

Kellan sank to his knees on the hillside, his fingers digging into the soil as tears flowed freely from his eyes.

Below, Varkas Blackroot stood amid the burning village while his warriors celebrated around him.

They had obtained food, weapons, and most importantly, victory against the damned humans!

These were things that the Blackroot Clan had once lacked and didn’t dare dream of.

Varkas should have felt proud.

Instead, he stared into the flames with a grim expression.

Now, this was no longer a mere border dispute.

Now, this was no longer about a couple of human hunters disappearing near Moonveil Forest.

Now, human villages had burned, children had died, and a respected warrior had fallen defending his home.

The humans’ town would soon answer, and that Guild of theirs would answer as well.

Perhaps, even the distant human kingdoms themselves might eventually answer.

Varkas touched the deep spear wound on his left shoulder.

No doubt about it, the human chief had nearly killed him.

That had been just one old Human, one dying Fighter with not many years left to live.

And tomorrow, many more would come, all of them the humans’ brightest and best.

Behind him, Blackroot Clan warriors cheered while Varkas simply watched Otter Village burn and understood with absolute certainty that there would be no going back from this night.

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