CHAPTER 239: CHAPTER 238: THE ALPHA’S LAST GIFT

"Ready yourself," Lumberling warned.

Karnark gave a short nod and stepped forward.

As the essence poured into him, his whole body stiffened. Unlike the others, his struggle wasn’t just endurance, it was transformation.

His frame convulsed, muscles knotting and twisting as though reshaping themselves. His bones popped audibly, claws lengthening, his scales darkening to a deeper shade with a faint metallic sheen.

"Ghh-rrraaaagh!" Karnark roared, dropping to one knee, his breath ragged. Sparks of aura lashed out from him, wild and unstable.

The other kobolds tensed, but Lumberling raised a hand. "No one move." His eyes sharpened. "This is his breakthrough."

For several long moments it seemed as though Karnark might rip apart from the inside. Then suddenly, the energy snapped into place. His aura expanded, no longer like a wild blaze but a heavy, pulsing force that filled the clearing.

Karnark straightened, his chest heaving. His body had grown bulkier, his stance heavier, and his eyes burned with a steadier light.

Lumberling exhaled slowly. "From a Berserker... to a Warshaper."

Karnark clenched his fists, staring at them as though rediscovering himself. "I... feel it. The strength... My body listens to me in ways it never did before."

"That’s because you’ve stepped onto a new stage," Lumberling said, walking closer. He placed a hand on the kobold’s shoulder, his tone both steady and proud. "You’ve caught up to the other vice-captains. Well done."

Karnark dropped to one knee, his voice rough yet resolute. "I won’t fall behind again. And... thank you for your guidance, my Lord."

The others echoed with low growls of respect. Karnark’s aura pressed like that of a Knight Apprentice, a step that set him above most of his kin.

Meanwhile, Trask, Kelgroth, and the others stood silently, their own power simmering beneath the surface. Trask especially seemed on the verge of something greater, his aura flickering faintly with the signs of an approaching breakthrough.

But Lumberling shook his head. "Enough for now. Power is precious, and there’s only so much to share. Save your hunger. A forced rise is no rise at all."

The kobolds bowed their heads in obedience, though the fire in their eyes spoke of ambition yet to be kindled.

Next, the nine elites stepped forward. From the seventeen captured common bears, nine were chosen and slain. Lumberling carefully guided the essences into them, steady and controlled, ensuring the surge did not overwhelm their bodies.

One of the Hobgoblin Warriors, his left leg mangled and barely able to bear weight, trembled as the energy coursed through him. His wounds glimmered faintly with light, bones knitting just enough to hold his stance.

It wasn’t a full recovery, not even close, but it bought him time. Enough that he could one day walk into a proper healer’s care.

The others, scarred and battered, also found their injuries dulled by the infusion. Cuts sealed, bruises faded, broken ribs pressed together with a rough but workable fix.

Lumberling’s voice was firm but calm. "This won’t make you whole. But it will keep you standing until the Church priests can finish what I cannot."

The warriors bowed their heads, eyes gleaming with silent gratitude.

When the remaining seven common bears were brought forth, the four hobgoblins and three elite kobolds braced themselves. One by one, they took in the essence. The surge of strength rolled through the group like a rising tide, until suddenly, two of them broke past the rest.

A hobgoblin soldier fell to his knees, clutching his chest as his aura burst outward. His frame grew thicker, muscles knotting beneath his skin. His face sharpened, his stance shifted, and the weight of a Hobgoblin Warrior pressed down on the clearing.

At the same time, one of the elite kobolds let out a guttural cry. His claws dug into the earth, his scales hardening, his body swelling with unrestrained power. When he rose, his eyes burned red, and the aura of a Kobold Berserker clung to him like fire.

Lumberling studied the two, nodding in approval. "Good. Another Berserker. Another Warrior. The ranks are whole again."

The eleven elites stood side by side with the four hobgoblins and kobolds, a new fire burning in their eyes. The air itself seemed to vibrate beneath the combined weight of their strengthened auras.

For a moment, silence lingered. Then, one by one, they dropped to a knee.

It was the newly evolved kobold who spoke first, his voice rough with emotion. "My Lord... thank you for making us stronger."

The hobgoblin Warrior lowered his head. "This strength is yours as much as ours. You gave us more than survival, you gave us direction."

The others voiced their agreement, a rough chorus rising together. "We thank you, Lord."

Lumberling let the silence after their voices settle before speaking.

"Then don’t waste it," he said, his tone steady but heavy with meaning. "Strength is a gift, but it’s also a burden. Use it to protect, to endure, and to rise higher."

The elites roared in answer, their voices carrying through the camp, fierce and united.

Lastly, Lumberling stood before the final beast, the Alpha Bear. Its body was massive even in near death, larger than any of the others, its presence still heavy as if refusing to fade.

He exhaled slowly, pressing his palm against the creature’s chest. "The strongest should go last," he murmured to himself. Then, with a swift thrust, he ended its lingering life and drew the essence inward.

The surge hit him like a cold river bursting its banks. Raw power and fragmented memories crashed against his mind, the weight of the Alpha’s hunts and dominance echoing within him. He steadied his breathing, letting his Mindseal Meditation anchor him as the essence settled into place.

A familiar warmth spread through his veins, followed by the crisp sting of something new.

(Beginner Poison Resistance has reached Level 2. Power +120.)

(Beginner Cold Resistance has been learned Lv. 0 (1/1000).)

Lumberling opened his eyes, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "A worthy hunt."