CHAPTER 57: CHAPTER 56

"Almost forgot about them," Skitz muttered, squinting across the water. "Are we really going to take on the lizardmen... just the two of us?"

The river-dwelling species rarely ventured onto land, which made them easy to overlook—but now that Lumberling remembered them, they were a perfect target.

"We have to," Lumberling replied. "The others can’t be involved. You’ll be absorbing all their essences—we can’t afford to split them."

Skitz’s lips curled into a grin. "Then time to train our stealth."

Lumberling nodded. "Stay close. No mistakes."

"Always, my Lord."

.....

In the canopy above the river, two figures crouched, motionless in the dense foliage. Hidden in shadow, silent, yet hyper-focused.

Lumberling sat cross-legged, eyes closed, his breathing shallow and measured. Still as stone, he had become one with the tree itself—a ghost watching over the wild.

"My Lord," Skitz whispered beside him, his gaze sharp. "They’ve arrived."

Lumberling’s eyes opened—ice blue and piercing.

Below, the surface of the river rippled. A tall figure emerged—over six feet, humanoid in shape, with dark blue scales glistening wet under the faint light. Its thick tail dragged behind it, and sharp yellow eyes scanned its surroundings. A lizardman.

"After hours of waiting, it finally shows itself," Lumberling muttered.

"Should we take action?" Skitz asked, fingers already brushing the hilt of his blade.

"No. Let it lead us home. We’ll follow—and learn."

"As you command, my Lord."

The lizardman shook itself dry and stalked into the woods. Moments later, it returned dragging a deer nearly the size of a cow. With fluid grace, it slipped back into the water and vanished beneath the surface.

Lumberling and Skitz followed.

They dove silently, bodies cutting through the current. With their strengthened lungs, they swam deep for minutes, following the predator into the river’s depths—until they reached a broad, dark tunnel. They surfaced inside a vast, hidden cavern.

The silence above was eerie. No guards. Just wet stone and darkness.

They followed the lizardman down winding passages, protected by Whispering Veil, Skitz’s cloaking skill. The spell wouldn’t last more than ten minutes, so they moved quickly, shadows gliding through shadows.

Then—Lumberling froze.

The chamber ahead opened into a massive underground hollow.

Hundreds of lizardmen stood there.

Tall. Armored in bone and hide. Muscles like cables beneath shimmering scales. Some stood well over two meters tall—evolved forms. Dozens of them. At the far end, deep in the shadows, a presence pulsed—a leader, no doubt. Something powerful.

Lumberling’s breath caught for a second. Not from fear—but from the sheer magnitude of what lay hidden here. ’How long had they lived beneath the roots, unseen, untouched?’

’By the abyss... There’s an army down here,’ Lumberling thought grimly.

Skitz swallowed beside him. "My Lord... What do we do?"

"We leave," Lumberling whispered. "This is beyond what we can face—not even with the whole village."

The two retreated the way they came, slipping back into the river undetected. Once they emerged on land, both stood dripping, silent, minds heavy.

’Is this why the Empire never bothers with this forest?’ Lumberling wondered. ’Not because they can’t—but because they know what’s hiding out here. Hidden tribes. Ancient monsters. Threats that don’t care for politics or borders.’

He glanced back toward the murky depths, where hundreds of lizardmen moved like shadows beneath the world.

"They’ve been down there for years," Lumberling said at last. "They’ve never claimed this forest as their territory. Which means—they aren’t looking for war."

"I see... you’re right, my Lord. With that kind of strength and numbers, they could easily dominate even the deep forest. So why stay hidden here?"

"Doesn’t matter. We’re not strong enough to do anything about it—not yet."

"But if that changes..." Skitz began.

"Then we run," Lumberling replied bluntly. "For now, no one enters this area. If the worst happens—we evacuate."

Skitz nodded, his expression tight. "I understand. But still—it doesn’t sit right."

"Focus on what we can do," Lumberling said. "Which is making you stronger. Come—we don’t have much time."

"Right. You lead, I follow. Just don’t forget, my Lord—if something ever does sit wrong, I’ll be the first to take the hit for you."

"We head for the deep forest," Lumberling said. "I already have monsters in mind. If we work together—no, because we work together—we’ll succeed."

The two darted into the forest’s heart, weaving through trees like shadows. Their movements were silent, fluid—so swift that nearby animals didn’t even register their presence as they passed.

.....

Two Days Later

They stood on the edge of a deeper, darker forest—one older than memory. Massive trees towered overhead, their trunks wide enough to house a family. The canopy choked the sky, and every shadow whispered of something watching.

"Woah," Skitz muttered. "I’ve never been this deep. Where are we, my Lord?"

"I found this place during my lone training," Lumberling said. "This is where the forest trolls live."

"Forest trolls? We’re hunting them?"

Lumberling nodded. "I never got close, but they looked as strong as the Alpha Dire Wolves, maybe stronger. They’re huge—hard to miss, but easy to mistake for trees."

Skitz scanned the woods.

"My Lord, that tree just moved."

"That’s no tree."

A hush fell over the glade. The birds fell silent. Even the wind seemed to retreat.

Then came the steps—wet, heavy thuds. Something emerged from the shadows between twisted trunks.

A forest troll.

It stood nearly four meters tall, hunched and grotesque. Its skin was a blend of bark and flesh, ridged and cracked like dried mud. Moss draped its shoulders like a cloak, and vines twisted around its legs and arms like natural armor. One hand ended in massive claws, the other gripped a broken tree trunk studded with stone and metal.

Its eyes glowed faintly amber under a protruding brow. Fangs like stone daggers jutted from a lipless mouth. The smell—earthy rot, wet fur, blood—hung in the air like fog.

It moved slowly, like a boulder at the edge of a cliff.

Lumberling readied his spear.

As he stared at the hulking troll, roots and rot hanging from its bulk, Lumberling felt the weight settle again on his shoulders—not from fear, but from expectation.

He exhaled slowly, grip tightening on his spear.

’I have no room for hesitation anymore.’

"Get ready, Skitz. I’ll go head-on. You flank and strike when I pin it."

Skitz crouched beside him, eyes narrowed at the troll. His usual grin faded for a beat.

"Damn," he muttered. "That thing could squash a boar just by sitting on it..."

He hesitated—not from fear, but from calculation.

"Just remind me, my Lord—why do we keep poking monsters twice our size?"

Then he flashed a crooked smile, breath shaky but eyes focused again.

"...Never mind. I’ll flank it. Try not to die before I get behind it."

The troll exhaled, and the flies scattered.

.....

The forest was unnaturally quiet.

Mist curled low over the ground, weaving between gnarled roots and moss-heavy branches. The air hung thick—still, yet heavy with menace. No birdsong. No breeze. Only tension.

A creak echoed from deep ahead—not wind, but weight. Measured. Deliberate.

Lumberling froze mid-step, one foot buried in moss. His breath slowed, spear angled low like a coiled spring. Beside him, Skitz melted into shadow, blade reversed, his eyes narrowed—focused, silent.

Then it came.

The forest troll exploded through the underbrush with a guttural snarl, shattering trees in its wake. Its towering bulk was draped in rotting moss, bark-plated limbs cracking with power. In one hand, it dragged a tree trunk like a war hammer—studded with stone, reeking of death.

Lumberling didn’t flinch. He met the charge head-on.

He lunged with a shout, spear flashing in the gloom. The troll swung—an arcing, thunderous strike. Lumberling ducked low, just beneath it, the wind of the blow tugging at his cloak. He surged forward and drove his spear into the troll’s thigh. Flesh tore.

The beast bellowed, backhanding him like a fly. Lumberling crashed into a bramble, armor scraping and thorns clawing at his side.

Skitz was already moving.

From the shadows, he flicked his wrist. Chains of shadow erupted around the troll’s arm, writhing like snakes, binding tight. The troll staggered. Skitz flashed forward, blade slashing a vicious line across its gut. Green-black blood sprayed.

It wasn’t enough.

With a roar, the troll tore free of the chains and slammed its fist into the earth where Skitz had just been. He vanished in a blur, reappearing atop a mossy log.

"That did nothing!" Skitz barked, frustration crackling in his voice.

"I noticed!" Lumberling growled, rising with blood on his lip. His eyes gleamed with fire. "Go for the eyes!"

Skitz’s grin returned—sharp and savage.

He flicked a bomb from his belt. The orb struck the ground, releasing a plume of thick, choking smoke. The troll thrashed, blinded. Chains burst once more from the mist, snaring its legs.

From above, Skitz launched again—vaulting off a branch. His blade bit deep into the troll’s neck, spraying blood in a dark arc.

Still, it didn’t fall.

The beast stumbled, roared—and with a sudden twist, caught Skitz mid-air. It hurled him to the ground.

Skitz hit the ground with a sickening thud that silenced even the birds. His body bounced once, then stilled in the moss.

For a heartbeat, he didn’t move.

Lumberling’s eyes flicked toward him—no time to check. He gritted his teeth and charged again.

His spear level with his chest. He met the troll’s hulking frame with raw momentum and plunged his weapon deep into its torso. The troll gurgled, staggered—yet still it raised its club.

Too slow.

Lumberling stepped in, grabbed the haft of his spear with both hands, and with a final snarl, drove it deeper—straight through the heart.

The troll shuddered, gave one last rattling screech, and crumpled like a falling tree.

The forest shook. Birds scattered.

And then, silence.