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Ten thousand Hobgoblins filled the desolate plain, their campfires scattered like malevolent stars in a twisted constellation. The fires crackled and hissed, casting flickering shadows that danced menacingly across the ground.

The Hobgoblins moved about their camp with a grim purpose, their guttural voices and harsh laughter creating a discord that seemed to make the very earth tremble.

Two towering figures stood out among the throng, the Hobgoblin Generals. One was a hulking Berserker, his massive frame covered in thick, scarred armor. His eyes burned with a feral intensity, and his breath came out in ragged, growling huffs.

The Berserker General carried a massive war axe, its blade stained with the blood of countless foes. He paced restlessly near his fire, the ground shaking with each heavy footfall.

The other was a lean, sinewy figure, the Ranger General. His movements were swift and silent, his keen eyes constantly scanning the horizon. He wore dark, mottled armor that blended seamlessly with the shadows, and a quiver of deadly arrows hung at his side.

His bow, intricately carved and well-worn from countless battles, was never far from his grasp. The Ranger General communicated with his scouts in hushed tones, his voice a sharp contrast to the Berserker\'s bellowing.

The Hobgoblins were a fearsome sight, their grotesque features illuminated by the firelight. Their skin ranged from sickly green to a deep, bruised purple, their eyes glinting with malice.

They sharpened their weapons, the metallic scraping sound a constant, unnerving presence.

The scent of their crude, hastily prepared meals mingled with the acrid stench of sweat and blood, creating a miasma that hung heavy in the air.

The Hobgoblins ate quickly, their sharp teeth tearing into meat with savage hunger, all the while casting wary glances around them. They knew that the calm of the night was only a prelude to the storm of battle that awaited them.

The Berserker General finally stopped his pacing, his eyes fixing on the distant horizon. "We strike at dawn," he growled, his voice carrying over the camp. "Prepare yourselves. We leave no survivors."

The Ranger General nodded, his expression unreadable. "Scouts, keep watch. Report any movement," he ordered, his voice cold.

The scouts nodded and melted into the shadows, their forms disappearing into the night.

As the Hobgoblins settled in for the night, the camp remained on edge, a palpable anticipation hanging in the air.

The fires burned low, casting long shadows that twisted and turned like specters. The Hobgoblins were ready, their bloodlust simmering just beneath the surface.

The barren wasteland seemed to hold its breath, knowing that come dawn, it would be soaked in blood.

Unbeknownst to the Hobgoblins, Pup was stealthily sniffing around their camp. The stench of the Hobgoblins was impossible to hide, even their scouts had a distinct smell that Pup could track from a distance. Ensuring he remained undetected, Pup carefully released the beetle into the ground.

Though small, the beetle was potent and incredibly dangerous. It could decimate an entire village within days if left unchecked. Releasing it was a perilous move, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

Back at the village, everyone was exerting their efforts to find a cure, and Hana might have produced one. The beetle\'s properties and venom had been extracted and studied. Now, it was the Hobgoblins\' turn to face its wrath.

Pup\'s mission was complete, and he scampered away quickly, hoping to escape before the Hobgoblins could detect him. He darted through the shadows, his small form nearly invisible in the dim light. However, as he slipped away, one sharp-eyed scout caught sight of him.

Pup\'s heart pounded as he raced through the shadows, the acrid scent of Hobgoblin scouts growing stronger behind him.

The flickering campfires cast long, eerie shadows across the barren wasteland, creating a maze of obstacles that Pup navigated. Hiding within shadows and running the next. Every rustle of his fur and every snap of a twig seemed magnified in the tense silence.

The Hobgoblin scout who had spotted him let out a guttural snarl, alerting others to a strange presence. The camp quickly buzzed with activity, and Pup knew he had to move fast.

He darted through the underbrush, his small form barely noticeable in the dim light, but the Hobgoblins were relentless.

Pup\'s paws pounded against the hard earth as he weaved through the rained arrows, narrowly avoiding the grasp of a Hobgoblin who lunged at him.

He skidded under a low-hanging piece of canvas, emerging on the other side just as another scout swung a club where his head had been moments before. The air was filled with the sounds of pursuit –– harsh voices, clattering armor, and the heavy footfalls of his pursuers.

Desperation fueled Pup\'s flight. He had been lax around the village before, but this was the first time Rain had given him a serious mission. Despite being weak and little, Rain had given this important mission to him. Failure was not an option.

Besides, he couldn\'t die –– not until the Hobgoblins were eradicated for killing his family.

He dashed towards a thicket, hoping to lose his pursuers in the dense foliage. A sharp arrow whizzed past his ear, embedding itself in a dead tree trunk inches from his head.

Pup\'s breath came in ragged gasps as he pushed himself harder, his muscles burning with exertion. He leaped over a fallen log, his keen senses picking up the rustling of air and the scent of safety just beyond.

But the Hobgoblins were closing in. Pup could hear them crashing through the underbrush, their guttural shouts growing louder.

In a last-ditch effort, he veered towards a narrow dry ravine, its steep walls offering a potential escape route. He scrambled down the rocky slope, his claws scraping against the stone as he fought to maintain his footing.

Halfway down, a large boulder dislodged and tumbled down after him, narrowly missing him but creating a cloud of dust and debris that momentarily obscured him from his pursuers.

Pup took advantage of the cover, darting into a small crevice in the ravine wall. He pressed himself into the shadows, holding his breath as the Hobgoblins stormed past, unaware of his hiding spot.

The minutes stretched into an eternity as Pup waited, his heart pounding in his chest. When the sounds of pursuit finally faded, he cautiously emerged from the crevice, his body trembling with adrenaline and exhaustion. He had barely escaped with his life, but he had done it.

With no time to waste, Pup turned and made his way back towards the village.