CHAPTER 58: CHAPTER 57

Lumberling stood panting, one hand braced on the spear still embedded in the troll’s corpse.

Skitz limped over, rubbing his shoulder. "We’ll call that... barely a win."

Lumberling grunted. "You alive?"

"Mostly." Skitz wiped a trickle of blood from his lip, then managed a crooked smile.

"This one’s tougher than the Alpha Dire Wolves," Lumberling said, stepping forward and placing his hand on the troll’s chest. "Might be rich in essence."

He activated Essence Weave.

As the smoky tendrils of power flowed into Skitz, his wounds began to slowly close. The gashes on his arm tightened, bruises faded. Skitz exhaled like a man stepping into a hot spring.

"This... this is incredible. I can feel it. More than the Alphas. Just a little more, and I think—no, I know I’m close to evolving, my Lord."

"Then we—" Lumberling stopped mid-sentence.

The air had changed.

Heavy. Still.

A thick branch cracked somewhere behind them.

From the mist, another forest troll emerged.

Bigger. Older. Smarter.

Its skin was darker, bark knotted with age, moss hanging like war trophies from its shoulders. One jagged spear haft jutted from its back—an old wound, half-swallowed by its flesh. Its golden eyes glinted, flicking from Skitz to Lumberling. Calculating.

"That one’s not charging," Skitz murmured, crouching low. "It’s... thinking."

"Doesn’t matter," Lumberling said, steadying himself. "It still bleeds."

The troll moved—shockingly fast. It crossed the glade in two thunderous strides.

Skitz hurled a bomb mid-motion. It struck the troll’s chest and exploded in a cloud of fire and smoke—but the beast barely staggered.

A flaming branch fell behind it. The troll pressed forward.

Skitz vanished in a blur, but the troll twisted with eerie precision. A massive swipe caught him mid-dodge and slammed him into a tree with a sickening thud.

"Skitz!" Lumberling roared.

He lunged in, aiming for the back of the troll’s knee—but the spear bounced off the bark-armored flesh. The troll grabbed the shaft and yanked, flinging Lumberling across the glade like a ragdoll.

He hit the ground hard. The spear skittered out of reach.

The troll lifted its foot—aiming to crush him—

But Skitz reappeared, bloodied, coughing, and trembling. He thrust both hands forward.

"Blackbind!"

Chains of shadow erupted around the troll’s limbs, locking it mid-stomp. It snarled and fought back, snapping one—then another—but not all.

"Now, my Lord!" Skitz screamed, voice breaking.

Lumberling surged up. No spear.

But then he saw it—the broken tree trunk the first troll had wielded as a club.

He sprinted, grabbed it with both hands, roared, and activated Hammer Shock.

The glade lit with force.

He swung the trunk like a warhammer. It collided with the troll’s head in a deafening CRACK.

The beast staggered, knees buckling—just as Skitz’s chains constricted again, binding its arms and throat.

Lumberling didn’t wait.

He leapt, seized a shattered spearhead from the dirt, and drove it down into the troll’s eye with both hands.

The creature shuddered.

Collapsed.

And died.

Silence swept the glade. Even the trees seemed to still.

Lumberling stood atop the troll’s corpse, breathing hard, soaked in blood and soot. The spearhead jutted from the troll’s ruined face.

Skitz limped to his side, one hand on his ribs.

"You always get the finishing blow," he muttered.

"You always get flung into trees."

They laughed—low, winded, exhausted—and began absorbing the troll’s essence.

But even in victory, the forest felt... watchful.

After a while, Skitz leaned against a mossy boulder and looked back at the crumpled bodies of the trolls.

"It’s a shame," he muttered. "We could’ve sold their parts for a fortune in the cities."

Lumberling sighed. "Carrying them back would slow us down. We’ll return later—if the scavengers haven’t picked them clean."

"I’ll take that as a maybe," Skitz said, half-smiling.

They turned toward the deeper woods—two figures against the mist.

Later that night, the campfire crackled low in the deep woods. Lumberling leaned back against a tree trunk, arms crossed, keeping watch while Skitz sat across from him, legs folded, sword resting across his lap.

They hadn’t said much since the fight. The silence was earned.

But something was... shifting.

Skitz twitched.

At first, he thought it was just the aftermath of the battle. His body was sore, and his wounds—though partially healed—still throbbed. But then came the heat. Not pain—pressure. Like something inside him had coiled tight and now refused to stay bound.

He exhaled sharply, clutching his chest.

"Skitz?" Lumberling looked up.

"I’m fine, I think. Just... something’s off." Skitz’s voice was hoarse, distant. "My blood feels like it’s on fire."

Then his muscles tensed involuntarily, a spasm running down his spine. His veins pulsed visibly under his skin, glowing faintly—not with light, but weight. A heaviness. A storm ready to break.

"I’ve felt this before," Lumberling said, eyes narrowing. He stood and stepped closer, watching Skitz carefully. "It’s starting."

Skitz gritted his teeth. His breath came faster now, shoulders trembling. "My head... it’s pounding. But I’m not scared. It’s like—my body’s trying to become something it hasn’t caught up to yet."

Small arcs of black mist—no, essence threads—began coiling around his arms. His aura, once stealthy and sharp, now rippled with power, wild and untamed.

Lumberling nodded slowly. "You’re evolving. The essence from the trolls pushed you over the edge."

Skitz looked down at his hands—trembling, glowing faintly at the fingertips. "This feels... different. Like I’m being unraveled. And rewoven."

"You are."

He chuckled between breaths. "Well... I hope the new me still likes explosions."

"You’ll like them more."

A pause passed. Skitz exhaled slowly as the energy in his body finally began to settle—barely. His breathing slowed, though his eyes still burned faintly with that ember-like glow.

"Guess I’ll sleep sitting up," he muttered. "Not sure I’ll survive if I roll over and combust."

Lumberling smirked. "Just don’t start glowing bright enough to attract monsters."

"I’ll try. No promises."

The Next Day

Lumberling stirred awake to the faint crunch of footsteps on the forest floor. His senses snapped to alert—until he opened his eyes and blinked in surprise.

Standing near the firelight, adjusting the strap of his belt, was a man—or rather, someone who looked like a man. His once-sharp goblin features had softened into something more human. His skin remained a cool gray, and his ears still pointed, but his frame had lengthened, leaner and taller. His shoulders were broad, posture relaxed but confident. He looked like a knight out of a storybook... if that knight had a glint of mischief and a habit of vanishing into shadows.

Skitz glanced over his shoulder, grinning.

"How do I look, my Lord?"

Lumberling squinted, rubbed his eyes once, then again. "...This is a scam."

"Huh?"

"Do monsters get handsome when they evolve? Is that part of the deal now?"

Skitz chuckled. "Maybe it’s because my mother was human? If this is what evolution does, I’d hate to see what I look like after the next one," He said, flexing slightly.

Lumberling snorted. "Just don’t grow wings. I’ll never hear the end of it. Well, you look great. Congratulations."

He studied Skitz in silence—his newly sharp features, his more composed gait, the quiet confidence in his step.

He didn’t say it, didn’t even smile. But in the back of his mind, he was proud.

This goblin... no, this man—had absorbed his teachings faster than any soldier he’d ever trained, even in his past life.

Skitz was no longer just a subordinate. He was his right hand.

And with him like this, their chances against the bears had just risen.

"Thank you, my Lord. This is all because of you."

"You don’t have to get all sentimental on me. Let’s pack up and go."

They shared a quick breakfast of dried meat and river roots before heading back. Along the way, they took time to test Skitz’s new capabilities. As expected, his speed had increased dramatically. His strength had improved as well—too well, in fact. Skitz could now punch through tree bark like wet paper.

"So," Lumberling asked, catching his breath after dodging a surprise dash, "any new skills?"

Skitz gave a sheepish grin. "This time... I have to disappoint you. No new skills popped up."

"Really? Still, with the three broken skills you already have, I think we’re doing fine."

Skitz nodded. "They’ve definitely gotten stronger. Whispering Veil lasts longer, and the chains from Blackbind feel... heavier."

"Perfect. We’ll do more tests after we return. Try not to break anything important."

"Can’t promise that, my Lord."