CHAPTER 56: CHAPTER 55

"You finally crawled out of your hole," Lumberling said, deflecting the gnoll’s claws with his spear.

"Human," the gnoll growled in goblin tongue, "why are you attacking us?"

"Oh? So you can talk," Lumberling replied coolly. "Skitz."

With a blur, Skitz appeared behind the gnoll and slashed deep across its back. Blood sprayed. Lumberling swept its leg and drove it to the ground. The two of them pinned the creature with ease.

"Weakened after your last fight, huh?" Skitz muttered, pressing his blade against the gnoll’s throat.

"Please! Spare me!" the gnoll gasped. "I’ll give you anything you want. Just let me live!"

Lumberling didn’t answer.

"I’m a gnoll ravager—the second evolution of our kind! I can serve you! I’ll be useful!"

He was desperate now, breathing hard, wounded pride shattered.

Lumberling’s silence dragged. The gnoll trembled.

Then, finally, Lumberling reached into his pack.

"Fine," he said, holding up a familiar black iron collar. "You want to live? Say the words..."

He smeared a drop of blood across the collar’s runes. It shimmered faintly, activating.

The gnoll grimaced, jaw clenched. Then, through gritted teeth:

"I... I want to be Lumberling’s slave."

Chains of smoke coiled around his throat. The collar locked.

(Slave: Grokk — Leader of the Gnoll Clan)

Even as the Black Collar pulsed around his neck, Grokk’s yellow eyes glinted with something that wasn’t fear.

"I served warlords before you, human," he rasped, though he knelt. "They all thought they broke me, too."

Lumberling didn’t answer. He just stared.

And Grokk, lips curling, thought: ’You’re just another in a long line. And every chain eventually breaks.’

"Stay here," Lumberling ordered. "Don’t move until we return."

Meanwhile, Lumberling and Skitz resumed the extermination. The remaining gnolls didn’t stand a chance. One by one, they fell—spears, bombs, and blades ending the last of their resistance.

"Ugh, these guys stink," Lumberling muttered, wiping blood from his cloak. "No way I’m keeping any more of them."

As Skitz wiped his blade clean after slashing down another gnoll, he muttered under his breath, "Wolves, gnolls... what’s next, trolls?"

He glanced sideways at Lumberling, who was wrapping a wound.

Then, louder: "Next time, I vote we let them fight each other first. These stink worse than wet fur and burned leather."

He kicked a dying gnoll off his boot with a grunt of irritation, then scanned the forest with narrowed eyes.

"I don’t like this, my Lord. Something about that gnoll leader... he begged too fast."

"I don’t like it either. But we need every edge we can get against the bears."

He looked at Skitz. "If I made the wrong call, I’m counting on you to help me fix it."

Once the last gnoll fell, he returned to Grokk—who was licking his wounds in silence.

Strangely, the ravager didn’t smell as foul as the others. Perhaps evolution came with a better hygiene trait. Still, he was injured. Lumberling cleaned and dressed his wounds in silence.

With the field cleared, the soldiers gathered fangs and claws. They returned to where the battle with the wolves had taken place, loaded the carcasses onto carts, and waited for the hunting parties to return.

The wolves fled and the gnolls lay broken, Lumberling’s forces stood bloodied but triumphant. A war had ended—but a darker one loomed on the horizon, carried on the heavy tread of bear paws.

By sunset, all units had regrouped.

As the soldiers prepared to return, Lumberling stood for a long moment at the battlefield’s edge.

Twelve bodies had been wrapped in cloth—eight goblins, four kobolds.

’You’ll be remembered. Not as numbers, but as warriors who gave us this victory.’

He didn’t speak it aloud. But he hoped the silence carried the weight just as well.

Skitz stared at the row of bodies, arms folded, face unreadable.

"We’re not done yet," he muttered.

"Twelve of ours fell. That’s twelve too many." Beside him, Takkar nodded. "Next time, no more casualties."

Vakk’s grip tightened around his axe.

"We train harder."

Even Gobo1, usually quick with a joke, said nothing—only stood straighter.

A silent oath passed between them. Not spoken, but understood.

This loss... would not repeat.

Lumberling looked back once as they marched home.

’The gnolls really did us a favor. They softened the wolves up for us. What thoughtful allies.’

Lumberling glanced over his shoulder at Grokk—the former gnoll leader—who trailed behind him in silence.

He was quietly considering how best to use Grokk. The gnoll was strong—his power easily that of a Knight Apprentice—but integrating him into the regular ranks was out of the question. And letting him command? Absolutely not.

’He’s too valuable to waste, but too unpredictable to trust completely.’

Then it clicked.

’A guard.’

A powerful one-man bulwark left behind to protect the village when they ventured out. It was perfect.

’With Grokk watching the gates, Skitz and I can go on the offensive without leaving our backs open. That solves it.’

Back in the goblin village, Krivex stood atop the wall and let out a rare smile.

Lumberling and his soldiers had returned, hauling the massive corpses of the Alpha Dire Wolves. More importantly, most of the soldiers were alive.

As the battered but victorious army approached the gates, the goblin village stirred to life.

Children peeked from behind the houses, wide-eyed. One young goblin boy let out a cheer at the sight of the massive Alpha Dire Wolf corpses being hauled on carts.

"Look! They brought back monsters!"

A few tired soldiers grinned faintly at the shout, but most trudged in silence, dried blood crusting on their gear. One kobold, armor cracked and dented, finally dropped to his knees the moment they passed the gate. He didn’t say anything—just stared at the dirt, breathing hard.

From the upper ledge of a nearby house, Jen watched with a pale face and wide eyes. Her hands were clenched on the railing. She didn’t smile until she spotted Lumberling among them, walking strong and straight. Only then did her shoulders sag in relief.

"Congratulations on your victory, my Lord," Krivex said as they entered the gate.

"Thanks," Lumberling replied. "We made it just in time to turn the tide."

"Still, it’s your win."

"I suppose so." Lumberling gave a tired nod. "Any word on the bears?"

"Our scouts returned earlier. They confirmed it—these bears are the same species as those from the deep forest. From their pace, they’ll reach us in four days, my Lord."

"Good. That gives us time to help Skitz evolve. Keep watching them and report anything unusual."

"Yes, my Lord."

Beside him, Grokk followed with cautious steps. His eyes scanned the village, then froze as he spotted the captains—Aren, Skarn, Vakk, and the rest—hulking hobgoblins and kobold berserkers standing tall in disciplined rows. Their presence made something shift behind his yellow eyes.

"So many... elites..." he muttered under his breath, his tone low with awe. His gaze lingered on Krivex, who moved with the calm confidence of a strategist. Grokk instinctively straightened.

Then Lumberling turned to him.

"Grokk, from now on, you’re the village’s guard. Protect this place when we’re away."

Grokk blinked. For a moment, something flickered across his face—surprise, maybe pride, but also a flicker of wounded pride.

"To guard... instead of command?" he asked softly, barely audible.

Lumberling said nothing, just stared.

Grokk bowed low.

"As you command, Master. I will protect it... as if it were my pack."

Lumberling turned to Krivex. "This is Grokk. He’ll be the village’s new guard. He’s as strong as a Knight Apprentice. If anything comes, you can rely on him."

Krivex raised a brow in surprise but nodded when he noticed the black collar on Grokk’s neck.

"If you say so, my Lord."

"Grrok," Lumberling added, "follow Krivex’s orders if I’m not here."

"Yes, Master."

"One more thing Krivex, prepare a small feast for the soldiers. They’ve earned it. And take care of the village while we’re gone. Skitz and I have one last hunt to do—we might be late."

"Understood. Consider it done. I’ll keep the fire burning while you hunt."

Lumberling gave him a short wave and turned to leave. "Take care."

"You too, my Lord," Krivex replied.

Once again, Lumberling and Skitz left the village, their feet crunching through leaves as they ran deeper into the wilds.

"My Lord, are we going into the deep forest this time?" Skitz asked between strides.

"That was the original plan," Lumberling replied. "But with the clock ticking, we’ll head somewhere closer."

Skitz gave a sharp nod and said no more. He trusted his Lord completely.

A day later, they stood beside a wide, mist-covered river.