CHAPTER 227: CHAPTER 226: RISE, KAELDRON

Lumberling felt something then. A weight in the air. Strength, pride, and a presence unlike the others. ’He grew up fast... So this is what you’ve become.’

The black-scaled lizardman stopped a few paces away, tilting his head slightly as he studied him.

For a heartbeat, neither moved. The swamp was silent but for the dripping of water.

"Are you our Lord?" the black-scaled one finally asked. His voice carried confidence, his stance steady. He gave off the same sharp presence Skitz had when they first met, keen calculating eyes, and an aura that clearly marked him at Knight Page level.

The others stirred uneasily at his tone, as if bracing for a clash.

Lumberling’s smile deepened. He could feel the challenge in those words, but also a strange sense of recognition, as if this one wasn’t dismissing him, but testing him.

"What do you think?"

The black-scaled lizardman’s eyes narrowed. He studied Lumberling, unflinching, as though weighing the truth in his gaze. The silence stretched.

Lumberling didn’t move. He let the silence linger, meeting those sharp eyes with calm assurance.

The lizardman tilted his head slightly, a faint hiss escaping his throat. "Your strength... you hide it well." His voice was low, almost reverent, yet edged with caution.

Then something shifted. The lizardman’s expression tightened, not in doubt, but in realization. He recognized a trace of it, the same aura he carried that marked him above the rest.

And even without Lumberling releasing his aura, he could sense it, an ocean of strength, the weight of a predator among prey.

His slit pupils narrowed as if weighing something unspoken. For a heartbeat, he stood rigid, pride and instinct warring within him.

Then, with a sharp exhale, his massive frame lowered. He bent his knee, head dipping at last, the sound of scales brushing stone echoing in the silence. His voice rang out steady.

"Please... bestow me a name, my Lord."

The others froze. Even Karnark was surprised by the turn of events. He was ready to discipline them after this. Especially this one, this stubborn black-scaled lizardman was the hardest to deal with. He never listened, and only ever followed when he felt like it. Yet now, he was suddenly kneeling.

"You’re smart" Lumberling smiled at him.

"Boss, what are you doing?" another lizardman muttered, confused.

The black-scaled lizardman snapped his head toward him.

"Shut up and kneel." His tone was sharp and commanding.

The others looked at one another, unsure, shuffling awkwardly.

Lumberling’s gaze sharpened. He stepped forward, releasing his aura. A crushing pressure descended, heavier with each passing second. His Pale Dream Blessing swirled through it, twisting the fear in their hearts until their legs buckled.

One by one, those who still stood found themselves forced to their knees.

The black-scaled lizardman stiffened. His chest tightened under the unseen weight, each breath coming slower, heavier, as though the air itself had turned to stone. Around him, the other lizardmen faltered, scales rattling faintly as their bodies trembled against the invisible pressure.

"That’s better," Lumberling said calmly, his voice carrying like iron against their ears. He looked them over.

The tension in the clearing was heavy. Lumberling’s eyes swept over the young lizardmen, their scaled heads bowed, their tails twitching nervously. His voice cut through the silence, firm and steady.

"I’ll let go of what happened earlier," he said. "But listen well, there won’t be a next time. There is no place here for disrespect or disobedience. Those who follow me will learn. Those who don’t... I’ll give you this chance now. Leave."

The lizardmen shifted uneasily, but none moved. Heads lowered further, shoulders trembling, yet their feet stayed planted.

Lumberling waited. The quiet stretched long, heavy enough to break weaker wills. He spoke again, sharper this time.

"I’ll repeat myself. If you will not follow me, you are free to leave."

Still, no one stepped away. Their silence spoke louder than any words.

He studied them. They were young, only months old, but not blind. Living in the goblin village, they had seen and heard enough to understand what made this place different.

They had been trained like soldiers, studying Knight skills from manuals, practicing strange body cultivation, and being taught as humans rather than left to live as mindless beasts. This was no ordinary tribe, and they knew it.

And that difference made them proud. Too proud, at times. Their natural strength as lizardmen only fueled that arrogance, the same way orcs carried themselves with brute confidence.

Lumberling exhaled slowly, then gave a firm nod.

"Good. You’ve made your choice. From this moment on, you will follow the rules. If you want to rise, prove yourselves in action, not in empty words."

A murmur rippled among the lizardmen, low hisses and clicks of their tongues. Karnark stepped forward, bowing low, his voice strained but respectful.

"They hear you, my Lord. They will not bring shame again."

Lumberling’s gaze softened slightly as he looked at Karnark. He had carried the weight of keeping them in line, but it was clear one guardian alone could not shape them fully.

Lumberling turned back to the group. "You have strength, that much is clear. But strength without order is nothing more than wild thrashing. Learn, train, and prove yourselves. Do that, and you’ll earn the right to lead one day."

This time, the lizardmen responded together. Their heads lifted slightly, and though their voices were rough and unpolished, they hissed in unison:

"We understand."

It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough for now.

"Do they have names?" Lumberling asked after a pause.

Karnark shook his head. "Not yet, my Lord. I was waiting for your return. I thought it best that you be the one to name them."

"I see." Lumberling’s gaze shifted to the kneeling black-scaled lizardman.

"Then you’ll be the first."

Lumberling stepped closer. Slowly, he extended his hand.

"From this day forward," he said, his voice carrying weight, "your name shall be Kaeldron. Rise with strength, and carry it with pride."

The lizardman’s eyes widened. His clawed hand pressed against his chest as he bowed low.

"My Lord... thank you. I swear to live and die with this name."

A murmur rippled through the others. Some shifted with envy, others with awe, their reptilian eyes burning with desire to be called next.

Lumberling didn’t rush. One by one, he called them forward. Each time, he spoke a name with firm conviction, and each lizardman accepted it as if receiving a weapon forged for them alone. With every word, his presence pressed heavier upon them, as though the very act of naming carved a bond into their being.