CHAPTER 59: CHAPTER 58

By the time they reached the goblin village, the sun had already started dipping behind the trees. Grokk was the first to greet them at the gate, eyes narrowing with mild suspicion.

"Welcome back, Master."

"Any trouble while we were gone?"

"Only the usual. A few wandering monsters sniffed too close to the edge, but I scared them off."

"Good job. Keep it up and I’ll make sure you get stronger too."

Grokk bowed. "Thank you, Master. Um... may I ask, who is your companion?" He turned toward Skitz, eyes narrowing. The aura was familiar—eerily so—but the face...

Then it clicked. His expression shifted from confusion to astonishment. "Master Skitz?"

"In the flesh," Skitz said with a grin.

Grokk bowed again, more deeply this time. "Congratulations on your evolution."

Behind the gesture, however, envy stirred. Grokk was well into his fourth decade. His single evolution had taken decades of clawing through blood and bone. And yet this one—this goblin—was barely twenty seasons old and had already surpassed him.

Still, Grokk said nothing. The goblin village was different from anything he had ever known. These monsters had order. Purpose. They built, cleaned, planned. He’d seen kobolds sketching with charcoal, goblins repairing water troughs, children being taught numbers.

And the growth... the power. It all traced back to one source.

The Master.

Grokk clenched his fists behind his back.

’If I stay here... maybe I’ll change too.’

"Keep at it," Skitz said, nodding as he walked past. "Work hard, and you might evolve sooner than you think."

Grokk bowed again as Lumberling and Skitz entered the heart of the village—two shadows returning from the deep forest, one reborn, the other already planning the next step.

.....

Inside the meeting room, Lumberling, Skitz, and the captains gathered around the table. Most eyes were fixed on Skitz—not out of suspicion, but curiosity and awe. His new form exuded confidence and quiet power. A few captains grinned knowingly; they now had a Quasi-Knight level on their side.

Lumberling raised a hand. "We’ll save the congratulations for later. Right now, let’s talk about the bears."

That quickly sobered the room.

Krivex stepped forward. "My Lord, as expected, the bears arrived yesterday and settled near our territory. So far, they haven’t scouted far, and they don’t seem aware of the village—but it’s only a matter of time."

"Good work keeping track," Lumberling said with a nod. "Now—how do we deal with them?"

He glanced around the table, then continued. "As you all know, a single bear is roughly equal to one of our captains. We can’t rely on the regular soldiers for this battle—though the archer squads might assist from range. Counting me, Skitz, Grokk, Gorrak, and the captains, we have eleven high-level fighters. The bears have at least three times that."

"So... pick them off, one by one?" Gobo1 guessed.

"Exactly."

Krivex leaned in. "What about traps, my Lord? Lead them into choke points, use terrain against them."

"That’s part of it," Lumberling agreed. "But bear bodies are tough. Our usual methods might not be enough."

Skitz nodded. "Even if we catch one, it won’t go down easy. They can power through normal traps. We’ll need stronger setups—pitfalls, spikes, poison if we have it."

Skarn raised a hand. "My Lord, may I suggest the boar cavalry unit? If they charge in formation, I believe they could take down a bear without heavy losses. I’ve tested them—they nearly overwhelmed me."

Lumberling arched a brow. "Is that so? I’ll test them myself before we commit. But if they can hold their own, we’ll factor them in."

"They won’t disappoint you, my Lord," Skarn said proudly.

"Any other ideas?"

Aren raised his hand. "My Lord... it may sound strange, but what if we try talking to them?"

The room fell utterly silent.

Even Skitz blinked.

"I mean—" Aren continued, shifting in his seat, "high-level monsters can be intelligent, right? Maybe we can negotiate. They might not want a fight either."

It was a strange suggestion—but not foolish.

Lumberling tilted his head. "Unexpected... but not impossible. I’ve seen intelligence in strong monsters. The problem is, we’re weaker. And monsters like them—" his voice cooled "—don’t usually compromise with the weak."

"I see," Aren murmured, eyes wide as if soaking in a life lesson. "So that’s how it is, I understand, my Lord."

Lumberling gave a faint smile. "That’s what makes you unique, Aren."

Then Gobo2 scratched his head. "Thinking about strategies is too hard for me. I’ll leave that to you, my Lord."

Laughter broke the tension around the room.

"Alright then," Lumberling said, smirking. "Here’s the plan—"

.....

And as the captains dispersed to prepare for war, Lumberling took a different path—to the training grounds, where a smaller battle raged.

Outside, in the training field, a small figure continued practicing alone.

Jen grunted as she swung a wooden sword at a straw dummy. Her brows were scrunched in determination, cheeks smudged with dirt, arms sore—but she didn’t stop.

A voice called out behind her. "Still practicing at this hour? It’s already lunchtime," a familiar voice called from behind.

Jen paused, turning to glance at her brother. She didn’t answer, just huffed and resumed her training with a stubborn swing.

"So... you don’t want the present I brought? That’s a shame." Lumberling said, pretending to turn away.

Her frown deepened. "I want it," she whispered.

"Huh? What was that?"

"I want the present!" she said louder, stomping once for emphasis.

Lumberling chuckled. "That’s more like it." He gestured. "Come here."

Jen pouted but walked over. "You always leave me behind," she mumbled.

"I know," Lumberling said with a smile. "That’s why I got you this."

He held out a miniature iron sword and shield set—crafted small enough for her frame, yet sturdy and balanced. The metal caught the light just right.

Jen’s eyes lit up like lanterns. "Whoa! Is this for real?"

She immediately took the sword and gave it a few experimental swings.

"I love this!" she exclaimed.

Lumberling watched her, and a quiet thought tugged at him.

’I haven’t been here for her... not really.’

Her grandfather was busy managing the farms, and he himself had been gone more often than not. There weren’t many in the village who could speak her language, let alone keep her company, she must’ve been feeling isolated.

"I’ll be the one training you from now on," he said softly.

Jen froze, eyes wide. "Really? You’re not going to leave anymore?"

"What, you don’t want me to?" he grinned.

"I love it!" she shouted, hugging the shield to her chest.

"I’ll still leave sometimes—but I’ll be the one training you."

"Best day ever!" she beamed.

Lumberling chuckled, feeling something unfamiliar settle in his chest.

Peace.

Even if just for a while.

.....

Far beyond the village, in the shadow of the northern pines, something stirred. Massive pawprints pressed into the mud—fresh. The bears were no longer just settling in. They were moving.

And the hunt was about to begin.

.....

The sun had barely crested the treetops when Jen marched into the training yard, her new iron sword and shield clutched tight in her hands.

Lumberling was already there, stretching with slow, precise movements. His cloak rested neatly on a nearby stump, and his spear lay across a rack beside a few wooden dummies.

"You’re early," he said, glancing over with a smirk. "Excited, or just trying to impress me?"

Jen stuck out her tongue. "I’m already impressive. I just want to learn fast so I can protect the village too."

Lumberling chuckled. "Alright then. Let’s start with stance."

He approached her and gently nudged her feet apart. "Wider. You’re not dancing. You’re trying not to fall over when a monster twice your size rushes you."

She adjusted.

"Now raise your shield. Elbow tucked. Sword back—no, not chicken-winged. This isn’t a parade."

Jen puffed her cheeks, mimicking a dramatic parade march. "Yes, Sir General Commander Lumberling, Sir."

"Less sass, more slashes." He pointed to a straw dummy. "Hit it. Five times. As hard as you can."

Jen stepped forward, raised her sword, and swung.

Thunk!

She hit again. And again. Her strikes weren’t pretty, but they were loud—and filled with something close to fury.

Lumberling narrowed his eyes. "That’s better. But don’t just swing like you’re swatting flies. Think. Imagine something scary coming at you. Feel the pressure. Then move like your life depends on it."

Jen paused, biting her lip.

She closed her eyes for a moment, then raised the shield and sword properly. She let out a breath—and struck.

This time, it wasn’t loud. It was clean. Focused. The dummy shook.

Lumberling gave a small nod of approval. "That’s the one. Now again."

They trained for over an hour. Stances, shield blocks, sidesteps. Lumberling corrected her quietly, never harsh, and each time she slipped up, Jen grit her teeth and tried again.

Finally, as she panted and slumped onto a nearby log, Jen looked up at him.

"Do you think I’ll ever be strong enough to fight with you?"

Lumberling handed her a canteen and sat beside her. "One day. If you train like this every day? Absolutely."

She sipped water, then looked up with a determined grin. "Then I’ll train twice as hard. So I can fight beside you. Not just wait."

Lumberling was silent for a long beat.

"...Then I’ll make sure I live long enough to see that."

Jen blinked, startled. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing," he smiled, ruffling her hair. "Now get up, little knight. That dummy’s still standing."