Transmigrated As An SSS Ranked MILF Overlord

A sharp echo sliced through the forest.

It bounced off the trees like a warning bell, loud enough to rattle the silence between Steve, Tonya, and the girl who had joined them — Mia. Not Fiona, no — Fiona had stayed behind. It was Tonya now, sharp-eyed and tense, clutching her knife like it could explain the sound.

Tonya spun toward Steve, her voice low but urgent.

"What the hell was that?"

Steve didn't look at her. His eyes were scanning the trees, jaw tight.

"I don't have time to explain. We need to move. Now."

He glanced over his shoulder. "The goblin clan… they're on their way."

Tonya froze. "What?" she whispered, fear rising in her voice.

"How did they find us? How did they know exactly where to look?"

"I don't know," Steve said. "But if we wait around to figure it out, we'll all be dead."

That was all it took.

Tonya didn't argue. She turned and took off at a sprint, Mia right behind her. Steve followed, his breath sharp, boots pounding against the soft forest floor. The trees rushed past in a blur, and behind them, that dreadful silence was replaced by the distant thudding of dozens of feet — heavy, relentless.

They reached the camp in minutes.

But it wasn't safety they found.

Smoke curled into the sky like a black omen. Screams pierced the air. Refugees ran in every direction — mothers clutching children, elders stumbling as flames caught on tent edges. The attack had already begun.

Steve skidded to a halt, chest heaving. Tonya stopped beside him, eyes darting wildly.

"What do we do?" she gasped.

Before he could answer, a familiar voice rose above the chaos.

"Here! This way!"

Lemon.

He was waving his arms from the edge of the camp, beckoning frantically.

"Come on! Move, move!"

Some of the refugees spotted him and hesitated — just for a moment — before they rushed after him, clinging to the only hope they had. The rest began to follow, stumbling through the wreckage.

Steve turned to Tonya.

"Go! Now!"

Together, they ran again — through smoke, through screams, through the remains of what was supposed to be a haven. They followed Lemon's lead, tearing into the woods with the others close behind.

They didn't stop.

Not until they reached a slope, overgrown with moss and ferns, where an opening yawned at the base of the hill — a cave, half-concealed by branches and stone.

Lemon ducked inside first.

"This way! Everyone in, keep low!"

One by one, they filed into the shadows. Steve held the rear, his blade drawn, his eyes watching the forest behind them. Once inside, the air grew colder. Damp stone pressed against their backs as they huddled in silence.

Outside, the goblins came.

At first, it was only footsteps.

Soft. Then louder. Then dozens.

Clawed feet scuffed the earth, dragging along leaves and roots as they marched past the cave.

Inside, no one moved.

Not a breath. Not a whisper.

Even the children stayed silent, clutching at their parents with wide, terrified eyes. They all knew — if they were found, they wouldn't live to scream.

Steve's eyes flicked toward the opening. Through the dense undergrowth, he saw them. Goblins. Stalking past. Their skin slick with dried blood. Some were wounded, limping. Others sniffed the air like hounds. But they didn't stop. They passed the cave without turning their heads.

Steve's chest tightened.

"How the hell did they get here so fast?"

"Was the ghost not holding them off?"

"Did he… lose?"

His thoughts churned as the footsteps grew faint… then faded.

Still, the silence held.

Then—

A single sigh broke through. Relief swept the cave like a quiet wind.

Steve leaned back, finally allowing his muscles to relax. But even then, something tugged at him. An unease that hadn't passed with the danger.

Something was missing.

He stood, quietly. His eyes scanned the cave. The refugees were shaken, some trembling, some whispering prayers under their breath — but all accounted for.

All except—

"Where's Sarah?" he asked.

Tonya looked up from where she was crouched beside Mia.

"What?"

"Sarah," he said again. "She was supposed to be keeping watch. With you."

Tonya's eyes widened. She turned, searching the crowd.

"I—I thought she was right behind us."

"She's not," Steve said.

He took a step toward the cave's mouth, ignoring the protests behind him. Lemon grabbed his arm.

"Steve, what are you doing? Get down! They might still be out there!"

But Steve shook him off. "Something's not right."

He stepped out slowly, eyes sweeping across the empty woods. The camp in the distance was smoldering — half-destroyed, half-abandoned. A sickly light from the fading sun cast long shadows over the ruins.

Steve narrowed his eyes.

"Something's wrong… something's not adding up."

And in the stillness of the forest, where fire met silence, and blood met soil, Steve felt the dread rising in his gut like a tide.

Sarah was missing.

The goblins had known exactly where to find them.

And the ghost — the one thing keeping them alive — had gone silent.

The town was already in ruins by the time we got here.

Ash choked the sky. Buildings stood like broken ribs, hollowed out and blackened. But beyond the destruction… were the questions. Too many questions.

Steve stared at the smoldering landscape, his eyes scanning the crumbled remains of Miros.

"This doesn't make sense," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "None of it does."

The prison…

The government…

Their sudden arrival — slipping past the realm's security without so much as a whisper. No detection. No alarms. Not a single scout reporting suspicious movement.

He gestured toward the ridge where charred watchtowers once stood.

"Any average patrol should've noticed something was wrong the moment the government unit entered the region. Even cloaked, you don't just sneak an entire death squad into a realm like this unnoticed. It's impossible."

Steve clenched his fists, his jaw tightening.

"And even if the guards missed their presence… someone would've heard something. A destroyed unit, a breach, something."

But no one had.

The government had somehow made it all the way to Miros. And even stranger — the mission wasn't random. It wasn't about conquest. It wasn't about territory.

They came for one man.

The Author.

Steve's chest tightened at the memory of the lead commander's words.

"They came here to kill him," he whispered. "How the hell did they even know who he was? How would they know what that even means?"

He shook his head, backing away from the cave where the remaining refugees still huddled in silence. His thoughts twisted and looped, circling around Ira — gone without a word. And now, they were all separated again. Splintered. Confused. Just like before.

Back to square one.

Steve exhaled shakily and turned away from the cave's entrance. His steps were slow, heavy. He didn't say a word to the others — not even Tonya. Lemon's voice followed him, gentle, almost pleading.

"Steve…? What are you doing?"

Steve didn't answer. He heard him. But he couldn't look back. Not yet.

He walked, pushing past brambles and scorched branches, until he'd put enough distance between himself and the others. Then, at the edge of the treeline, he paused. His breath steamed in the cool air as he looked around, making sure no one had followed.

Alone.

He dropped to one knee and pressed a hand to the ground. With a low breath, he whispered the incantation — one of the forbidden words he rarely used unless absolutely necessary.

The forest stilled.

And then — flash.

Like the crack of lightning, the ghost appeared.

A shadow in the shape of a man, cloaked in that same cold presence that made the air feel thinner. His eyes glowed faintly beneath the shroud of his hood.

"Glendam," Steve murmured. "Part of me thought you'd be dead by now."

The ghost tilted his head slightly. "I am dead," he said flatly. "And I've been dead a long time, Steve. Now tell me — how many times are you going to call me today? Or… don't tell me you've finally grown fond of my voice."

Steve let out a dry breath. "Don't flatter yourself."

"You're the one summoning me," Glendam replied with a shrug. "I'd say that counts for something."

Steve looked down, then back up — his gaze sharper now.

"No jokes this time," he said. "I didn't call you for backup… I called you because I need answers."

Glendam's glowing eyes narrowed.

"I need your knowledge," Steve said. "I need you to tell me what's really going on in this town."

"Careful, Steve. The answers you're asking for don't come cheap."

"I'm not asking for easy," Steve said. "Just truth."

The forest wind picked up, tugging at the ghost's cloak as he stepped forward, the weight of unseen centuries hanging around him.

"Then listen closely," the Ghost said, his voice lowering. "

if you want to understand the goblins, the government, and the author—then you're not just asking for answers…"

He raised a skeletal hand, eyes glowing brighter.

"The author?...I'm the author."

"No, Steve...No you're not." The ghost replied.