As the group prepared to leave, Victor’s sensors picked up something else—a low, guttural chanting that sent a shiver through his core. The Steam Sentinels immediately shifted into defensive positions, their piston-powered fists clenched and ready.

  “What is that?” Pip asked, her voice tinged with unease.

  Aelin nocked an arrow, her eyes scanning the treeline. “Goblins,” she said, her voice sharp. “And a lot of them.”

  Victor’s core pulsed with tension. The scrapyard had yielded more than enough materials to fuel his upgrades, but now a new threat loomed on the horizon.

  “Fall back to the dungeon,” Victor commanded, his voice calm but urgent. “We’ll face them on our terms.”

  The Steam Sentinels formed a protective perimeter as the group retreated, their glowing eyes scanning the shadows for movement. The chanting grew louder, a primal rhythm that echoed through the scrapyard.

  Something was coming.

  The scrapyard had been a success. Victor’s dungeon was now stronger than ever, its brass walls reinforced with salvaged metal and its defenses upgraded with new traps and minions. The Steam Sentinels stood taller and more imposing, their piston-powered fists gleaming in the sunlight. The Clockwork Falcons Mk. II perched on the roof, their blade wings sharp and ready.

  Victor’s core pulsed with tension. The goblins were coming, and they were coming fast.

  The first goblin emerged from the shadows, its green skin mottled with dirt and moss. It wore armor made of leather and bone, its helmet adorned with antlers that gave it a feral, almost predatory appearance. In its hands, it clutched a crude spear, its tip sharpened bone.

  More goblins followed, their numbers swelling into a warband of at least thirty. They moved with a feral grace, their eyes gleaming with malice as they surrounded the dungeon. At their head was a towering goblin, his armor more elaborate than the others. His helmet was crowned with a massive set of elk antlers, and his chestplate was made from the ribcage of some large beast. In his hands, he carried a massive bone club, its surface carved with crude runes.

  Victor’s hologram flickered to life:

  Threat Detected: Goblin Warband (Level 2)

  Leader Identified: Grok Mossfang.

  “Mossfang,” Victor muttered, his core pulsing with unease. “Sounds like trouble.”

  The goblins didn’t wait for an invitation. With a guttural roar, Grok raised his bone club, and the warband charged.

  Victor activated his Steam Jets, filling the air with scalding vapor. The front line of goblins screeched as the steam burned their skin, but the rest pressed forward, their leather armor protecting them from the worst of the heat.

  “Deploy the Sentinels,” Victor commanded, his voice calm but urgent.

  The Steam Sentinels stepped into the fray, their piston-powered fists slamming into the goblins with bone-crushing force. S-01, the lead Sentinel, moved with deliberate precision, its brass-plated body gleaming in the sunlight. A goblin charged at it, his bone spear raised high. S-01 sidestepped the blow, its piston-powered fist slamming into the goblin’s chest with a sickening crunch. The creature flew backward, its armor shattered and its spear clattering to the ground.

  But the goblins were relentless. They swarmed the Sentinels, their bone weapons clattering against the brass armor. Grok Mossfang led the charge, his bone club slamming into S-01 with enough force to dent its plating.

  If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

  “Fall back!” Victor shouted, his core pulsing with urgency.

  The Sentinels retreated, their movements slow but deliberate. The goblins followed, their chanting growing louder as they pressed the attack.

  Victor knew he couldn’t hold out much longer. The goblins were too many, and the Sentinels were taking too much damage. But he wasn’t alone.

  Aelin stood on the roof, her bow singing as she picked off goblins with the accuracy only years of practice could produce. Borin fought with the ferocity of ten men, his hammer crushing any goblin that was foolish enough to approach. Pip worked tirelessly in the workshop, her hands a blur as she repaired damaged traps and reinforced the walls.

  “We need to buy time!” Victor shouted, his voice echoing through the dungeon.

  With a mental command, he activated the Kinetic Shockwave Tower Mk. II, slamming the ground with enough force to send the goblins flying backward. The warband’s formation broke, their ranks thrown into disarray.

  “WAAAGH!” Grok shouted, his voice filled with rage. “SMASH 'EM GOOD! KRUMP EVERYFING DAY AIN'T GREEN! FOR GORK! WAAAGH!!”

  But Victor wasn’t about to give them the chance.

  The goblins’ assault had been relentless, but Victor and his allies were far from defeated. As the battle raged on, a shift began to take place—a shift that would turn the tide in their favor.

  Aelin stood atop the dungeon’s roof, her bow drawn and her eyes sharp. She moved with the grace of a predator, with flawless aim, her arrows struck true, each one hitting its target with deadly precision. One by one, the goblins fell, their crude bone weapons clattering to the ground.

  “Focus on their flanks!” she shouted, her voice cutting through the chaos. “Don’t let them regroup!”

  Her arrows struck the goblins’ leaders, disrupting their coordination and sowing panic among their ranks. Grok Mossfang roared in frustration, his bone club smashing into the ground as he tried to rally his warband.

  Borin fought on the ground, his hammer swinging in wide, devastating arcs. The goblins’ bone armor was no match for his strength, and each blow sent them flying.

  “Is that all you’ve got?” he bellowed, his voice filled with grim satisfaction. “Come on, you overgrown weeds!”

  He charged into the thick of the battle, his hammer crushing anything in its path. The goblins tried to swarm him, but Borin was a force of nature, his movements a blur of brute strength and precision.

  Inside the dungeon, Pip worked tirelessly to keep the defenses running. She had rigged a series of Steam Cannons to fire bursts of scalding vapor at the goblins, forcing them to keep their distance.

  “Victor, I need more power to the cannons!” she shouted, her hands moving frantically over the controls.

  Victor redirected steam from the Boiler, the cannons roaring to life. The goblins screeched as the scalding vapor burned their skin, their ranks breaking under the relentless assault.

  The Steam Sentinels had taken heavy damage, but they weren’t done yet. S-01, its brass plating dented and scorched, led the charge. Its piston-powered fists slammed into the goblins with bone-crushing force, sending them flying.

  Grok Mossfang roared in frustration, his bone club smashing into S-01 with enough force to dent its plating. But the Sentinel didn’t falter. It grabbed Grok’s club, its servos whirring as it wrenched the weapon from his hands.

  “OI YOU LOT! STOP MUCKIN' ABOUT AN' GET BACK 'ERE! WE AIN'T DONE KRUMPIN' YET!” Grok shouted, his voice filled with rage. “GROUP UP AN' LET'S SMASH 'EM PROPA THIS TIME!”

  But the goblins were done. The sight of their leader disarmed was the final straw, and they began to retreat, their chants turning to cries of panic.

  The goblins disappeared into the forest, their shouts fading into the distance. Victor’s dungeon rolled to a halt, its brass walls battered but intact. The Steam Sentinels stood guard, their glowing eyes scanning the treeline for any sign of movement.

  Aelin, Borin, and Pip stood together in the core chamber, their faces etched with a mix of weariness and quiet triumph.

  “We did it,” Pip murmured, her voice tinged with wonder. “I can’t believe we actually pulled it.”

  “Don’t start celebrating just yet,” Borin grunted, his voice rough but not without warmth. “This isn’t over. They’ll return.”

  “And when they do,” Victor interjected, his core glowing with unwavering resolve, “we’ll be waiting.”