CHAPTER 238: PACT

"Don’t you want to be strong?" I asked, tilting my head slightly. "Strong enough that you’re never the unlucky one again?"

Her voice came out sharp, cold. "I just want you dead."

I didn’t flinch. I nodded slowly.

"Then become strong," I said. "I’ll make you strong."

The words came out before I could stop them, like a pact I hadn’t meant to offer. Like some twisted form of mercy.

What the hell am I doing?

I barely had time to finish the thought before a wet, guttural growl pulled my attention elsewhere.

I turned.

And there it was—the lightning leopard, crawling out of the crater, dragging itself forward with trembling limbs. Its body was torn open in several places, patches of fur burned away, blood seeping from its mouth, and matting the orange of its coat. One of its front legs was twisted at an unnatural angle, and yet—somehow—it kept moving.

Ohh... it wasn’t dead.

Even after falling from that height? That was impressive. Its body was mangled, sure—limping, bleeding from too many places to count—but it was still alive. Still dragging itself forward with grit I hadn’t expected.

The leopard wasn’t crawling toward us, though.

It was crawling away, slowly.

I sighed and raised my hand, activating [Inferno Lance]

.

Heat surged into my palm, coalescing into a spear of concentrated flame, its tip pulsing with embered light, the air around it shimmering.

My aim adjusted instinctively, tracking the creature’s spine.

I stood.

One throw, and it would be over.

But just as I pulled my arm back, ready to hurl the lance, Zivra cried out behind me.

"Don’t!"

Her voice cracked with urgency as she latched onto my leg, arms weak but firm, clinging like her life depended on it.

I paused, frowning. "Why?"

Her eyes were wide, pleading—not with fear, but conviction.

"If it dies... that’s the end of its race."

I blinked, the flame flickering slightly in my hand.

"Oh? And why would you care about that?" I asked, turning to her, my tone calm but edged.

"I killed her mate."

I narrowed my eyes slightly. "And...?"

I wasn’t following. I didn’t see where she was going with this. Her voice was hoarse, barely steady, but there was something strange in the way she said it—something soft, almost thoughtful.

"She’s probably... sad," Zivra continued, her grip still tight around my leg. "The one she finally managed to find, after who knows how many years... and now he’s dead. That’s... It’s just too sad."

I stared at her for a beat, genuinely taken aback.

Compassion? From her?

After everything—after what she’d just done, after what I had done to her family—I hadn’t expected this to be what stopped her. I didn’t think she had it in her. I’d misjudged her, or maybe she was just wired differently than the rest.

Seriously, what the hell was wrong with the goblins in this world?

They weren’t acting like goblins at all.

I exhaled through my nose, glancing at the wounded leopard in the distance, still dragging itself forward with broken pride.

"...Alright," I said at last, letting the Inferno Lance flicker out of existence, the heat evaporating from my palm as the flames died. "I won’t kill it."

"Thank... thank you," Zivra said, her voice uneven and soft, like she wasn’t used to saying the words out loud—or maybe not used to meaning them.

It sounded foreign coming from her.

Before she could say more, I moved again—swift and low—slipping beneath her eye line, rising just enough to bring my face close to hers. Close enough to make her tense up, her shoulders pulling back slightly as I invaded her space.

But she didn’t pull away completely.

"Would you like to return?" I asked, my voice quiet but firm. "Join my clan?"

Her eyes widened, caught off guard—not just by the offer, but by how directly I asked it. I didn’t dress it up. I didn’t make it sound like a favor.

I wanted her strength. Period. No matter what she thought of me, no matter what she might still feel. That kind of power, used right, could change everything.

She hesitated.

But not in the way I expected.

It wasn’t hatred stopping her this time. It wasn’t grief. It was something else.

"...After what I did to Gork and Nira?" she asked, voice cracking slightly.

My brows furrowed.

"What do you mean? Did you kill them?"

I asked, my voice raised a fraction with sudden urgency.

I hadn’t checked on them after Thok informed me what happened; I had simply gone after Zarah.

To my relief though, Zarah shook her head slowly, her tone calm.

"No," she said quietly. "I didn’t."

I exhaled, the tension in my shoulders easing just slightly.

Good. Gork and Nira were still alive. That mattered more than I wanted to admit.

I still needed the other Chosen to complete the numbers required for the King’s Game.

I was already skating the edge—barely holding together the few I’d managed to gather. I couldn’t afford to lose any one of them.

"Then it’s no problem," I said, meeting her gaze directly. "So long as you swear an oath not to use your abilities against me or any member of the Jade Midgets clan without my explicit permission, you’re welcome to return."

She narrowed her eyes, suspicion flickering across her face—but not rejection. Not yet.

"In return," I added, voice calm, deliberate, "I’ll swear to you that when you believe you’re strong enough—when you truly think you’re ready to settle the score—I’ll give you that chance. I’ll grant you permission to go all out against me."

That caught her off guard.

Her eyes widened, not in disbelief, but as if trying to gauge whether I was mocking her or actually serious.

"You’re lying," she said, testing me.

I shook my head. "No. I’m serious. Dead serious."

We stared at each other for a long moment, neither of us blinking. I wasn’t bluffing, and she could tell. Maybe that’s what made her final response come out steadier than any other words she’d spoken all day.

"...I’ll do that then," she said.