CHAPTER 62: CHAPTER 61

As they returned to the village, Lumberling checked his status window.

Name: Lumberling

Race: Human

Age: 21

Level: 8

Essence Point: (8,029 / 17,800)

Power: 2,156 (Skills: 1,329 | Level: 827)

Knight Stage: Knight Page

Active Skills

Beginner Sprint Lv0 (828/1000)

Beginner Hammer Shock Lv0 (201/1000)

Beginner Essence Weave Lv0 (83/1000)

(Derived from Essence Devour. Allows the user to bind the essence of a fallen enemy and channel it into another chosen vessel.)

Passive Skills

Essence Devour

Beginner Pikeman’s Art Lv5 (130/1000)

Beginner Concealment Lv3 (282/1000)

Beginner Swordsmanship Lv2 (0/1000)

Beginner Bowmanship Lv0 (729/1000)

Beginner Shieldmanship Lv0 (259/1000)

Beginner Cudgel Fighting Lv0 (328/1000)

Beginner Dual Wielding Axe Lv0 (1/1000)

Resistances

Beginner Poison Resistance Lv0 (1/1000)

From the whirlwind of battles they’d survived, his Spearmanship had finally reached Level 5.

Physically, he could now stand toe-to-toe with a Vine Serpent in single combat. He might still fall short slightly, but he now possessed the raw body of a Quasi-Knight. The imbalance between his powerful physique and his still-developing combat skill was widening, but that wasn’t a weakness. It meant he was fighting above his stage. And that was a strength he intended to hone further.

He glanced at his captains, especially Skitz.

’I’ve focused on helping them grow stronger... Now it’s time to focus on my own growth too.’

.....

At the Village Gates

The moment the soldiers were spotted crossing the forest path, a guard’s voice rang out from the watchtower:

"The Lord is back! The soldiers have returned!"

A ripple of energy surged through the village. Goblins and kobolds looked up from their tasks. Children stopped playing. Farmers dropped their tools. Then came the cheering, soft at first, then swelling louder as feet pounded toward the gate.

Jen had been sharpening her wooden sword when she heard the shout. Her eyes widened.

"They’re back! Grandpa, they’re back!"

Old Man Dan blinked up from his work mending armor scraps. "Already?" He rose with a grunt, and Jen was already gone, dashing toward the gate.

As the cheering swelled and the gates swung open...

The villagers surged forward, not with chaos, but with heartfelt warmth.

Children ran ahead of their parents, some holding bundles of flowers, others with hunks of bread or berries wrapped in leaves. An elderly kobold handed a returning soldier a stitched cloth charm. One child slipped a pebble into Gobo2’s hand, glittering, no more than a river rock, but offered with reverence.

"For luck next time," the child whispered.

Gobo2 blinked, then grinned and held the rock over his head like a treasure. "Did you see that? I got a magic stone! Clearly, I’m the real hero!"

Gobo1 rolled his eyes. "From a kid. Of course it was a bribe."

Near the center of the gate...

Skitz walked stiffly, trying to blend into the crowd of returning soldiers. Jen ran up, bright-eyed.

"Skitz! You’re okay!"

He gave her a lopsided grin and lifted a hand to wave.

Then winced.

His smile faltered for a heartbeat, and he lowered the arm carefully, masking the pain.

Jen noticed. Her brow furrowed, but she said nothing. Instead, she reached up and handed him a piece of soft bread wrapped in cloth.

"You’re not allowed to die, okay?"

Skitz chuckled gently. "I’ll try my best."

At the Gates

Krivex stood tall to welcome them, Grokk beside him.

Grokk narrowed his eyes as he scanned the returning soldiers, most of them smiling, whole. His gaze stopped on Skitz, who held his arm stiffly, clearly injured. A mix of confusion and awe bloomed in Grokk’s chest.

’How? No casualties? Did the bears... retreat? What did they do?’

His eyes turned toward Lumberling, calm, resolute. Grokk swallowed. ’Did he pull off another miracle?’

"Welcome back," Krivex said, pride and relief in his voice. "Congratulations on your victory."

"Yeah, we all did great, especially me," Gobo2 announced, puffing his chest and patting Krivex’s shoulder with exaggerated pride. "I was the one who scared them off!"

"What a shameless bastard," Gobo1 muttered beside him, rolling his eyes.

Laughter spread like wildfire among the soldiers.

Krivex smiled, then turned to Lumberling. "Thank you for your hard work, my Lord."

Lumberling gave a tired grin. "Thanks for watching the village. Sorry to always leave you with the boring part."

Krivex bowed slightly. "It’s my duty and an honor."

Lumberling straightened. "Alright. This calls for a celebration. Tonight, we feast!"

The entire field exploded in cheers. Weapons were raised. Smiles widened.

.....

That night...

Beneath a canopy of flickering torches and stars, the village pulsed with life.

The scent of roasted boar, grilled mushrooms, and sweet herb stew filled the air. Long tables, cobbled together from planks and stone, stretched across the main square. Soldiers and civilians alike gathered, cheering, clapping, toasting, and eating heartily.

Laughter rang out as drinks sloshed and drums beat in rhythm. The air was alive.

At the head of the gathering, Skitz stood on a makeshift wooden platform, his broken arm bound tightly but his spirit unshaken.

"You all have worked hard," he said, voice raised. "It’s sad that the others are no longer here to see our victories... but this won’t stop us."

The crowd fell into quiet reverence for a moment.

"Our village will grow stronger. We will rise!"

Cheers erupted, goblin shrieks and kobold howls mixing into a triumphant roar. Skitz stepped down, and Lumberling rose, raising a wooden mug in salute.

"Now," Lumberling began, "let’s remember who made this victory possible."

He gestured toward the captains gathered near the front.

"To Gobo1 and Gobo2!" he said, and the two goblin captains stood.

"Captains of our hunter units, our sharpest eyes in the wilds! Gobo1, with his shield and sword, keeps the line strong. Gobo2, the blade in the dark!"

"I also roast a great boar!" Gobo2 shouted, earning laughter.

"To Krivex!" Lumberling continued. "Our master of intelligence. No one sees further, plans smarter, or hears whispers louder."

Krivex gave a small, proud nod.

"To Gorrak and Vrak, our vice captains who prove every day that strength comes with discipline!"

The two stood with their massive weapons slung over their shoulders.

"And Aren," Lumberling said, voice warming. "The little goblin who grew into a giant among warriors. Captain of our elite troops!"

Aren, still small in stature but brimming with quiet pride, stood and raised his spear. Behind him, his elite unit of hobgoblins—Nibz, Rogar, Edric, Thalen, Durnic, Marek, Alric, and Tarnel—stamped their feet in rhythm.

Lumberling turned.

"And to our kobold captains: Takkar, fierce leader of our militia. Vakk, our loyal guard captain. Skarn, master of the boar cavalry!"

The kobold captains stood tall. Skarn raised his war horn and blew a short burst, earning stomping cheers from his riders in the crowd.

Lumberling continued. "And their vice captains, Karnark, our new wolf tamer. Zarn, keeper of the wounded. Tarnix and Izzek, blacksmiths shaping weapons and armor that hold our line!"

The mentioned kobolds stood one by one, each nodding solemnly as their names were called.

"And Aren’s elite squad!" Skitz called out, jumping in. "Our strongest evolved kobolds, the frontline of our might—Rekki, Trask, Varn, Harken, Jorven, Saelen, Grathor, Torric, Orlen, Korrin, Rygar, Lorven, and Zephar!"

The dozen elite kobolds let out synchronized roars, pounding their chests with pride.

Lumberling’s eyes found Grokk near the edge of the gathering, standing silently among the guards.

"And even to Grokk," he said. "Former gnoll leader, now the village’s guard. May his strength protect those within while we face the world beyond."

Grokk bowed low, surprise flickering in his expression.

Then the crowd surged into noise again, drums pounding, mugs raised.

Children danced between tables, soldiers recounted the battle with exaggerated gestures, and some goblins wrestled each other into the dirt for fun.

Lumberling stood at the edge of it all, arms folded as he watched.

No graves to dig tonight.

That was victory enough.

Skitz sat near the fire, a goblin girl wrapping another bandage around his arm. He flinched slightly, then grinned at her to hide the pain.

Jen brought over a small loaf of sweetbread to Aren, and Old Man Dan was already filling his third mug.

The night stretched on, filled with warmth, flame, and the glow of hard-earned triumph.

Gobo2 leaned back on his bench, loudly crunching into a roast rib. "You hear that cheer when I was named? I think even the stars clapped."

Gobo1 snorted. "They cheered for the roast, not your rusty blade."

"Roasting and slashing. Double threat, baby." Gobo2 struck a dramatic pose with a fork in one hand and a dagger in the other.

Krivex passed behind them, deadpan.

"If only we could weaponize your ego, we’d never lose another battle."

"You wound me," Gobo2 said, feigning a dramatic faint. "But go on."

"I won’t," Krivex replied, walking off. "Because the real wound is listening to you talk."

The table burst into laughter.

As the celebration roared on...

Skitz stood once more, raising a mug with his uninjured arm. The firelight flickered against his lean face, his expression unusually solemn.

"I know I already said something earlier," he began, voice a bit raw, "but I want to say one more thing."

The noise dulled into silence as heads turned toward him.

"I’ve bled beside all of you. I’ve trained you, watched you grow from shaky-limbed goblins and kobolds into warriors I’d trust with my life."

He glanced toward the captains and the soldiers gathered in ranks around the fire.

"But more than that... I’ve watched a village form from nothing. We didn’t have walls. We didn’t have food. Hell, some of us barely had names. And look at us now."

His voice grew stronger, steadier, carried by something deeper than pride.

"You’re not just my comrades. You’re my family. And when I punched that bear..." he paused with a grin, "I wasn’t thinking of glory. I was thinking, ’If I die here, I’ll never get to see what this place becomes.’"

He looked toward Lumberling, then out across the crowd.

"So thank you for making this place something worth fighting for."

A moment of silence.

Then a cheer broke loose. Loud. Fierce. Honest.

Skitz raised his mug to join the cheer, then winced, lowering it with a grimace before anyone saw. ’Still hurts,’ he thought, but it was worth it.

Goblin drums resumed their pounding. Kobolds howled and clashed mugs.

Krivex approached the edge of the gathering, wooden mug in hand. He didn’t speak, just raised it slightly toward Lumberling.

Lumberling noticed, nodded once, and raised his own in return.

No words passed between them.

But in that brief exchange, two men who bore the weight of plans and consequences, there was a silent oath of understanding. One planned from the shadows. The other led from the front. Together, they had kept the village standing.

Krivex gave a small smile. "I’ve already begun mapping out fallback routes... just in case."

Lumberling chuckled. "That’s why I sleep at night."

.....

And as the fire blazed higher, Aren sat just at the edge of the feast, a wooden bowl of stew in his hands. His eyes drifted into the flames.

Flashback – One Year Ago

The camp was smaller then. Crude tents. Only a dozen soldiers. Rain poured, and he’d been sitting under a piece of cloth tied between sticks, shivering. Back then, he was still small—not just in body, but in heart.

A hand had placed a dry cloak over his shoulders. Lumberling had stood beside him, dripping wet, but smiling.

"You’re smart, little goblin. Someday, you’ll lead more than just a fire team."

"Me?" he’d asked, stunned. "But I can’t even hold a spear right."

"Then train harder," Lumberling had said, walking away through the mud. "Because one day, they’ll look to you."

Present

Aren looked around now, at his elite hobgoblins drinking, smiling, calling him "Captain" without hesitation.

He grinned faintly. ’You were right, my Lord. They did look to me.’

He stood, raised his spear to the sky, and called out:

"To the village!"

A thunderous echo answered him.

"To the village!"

.....

Near the outer edge of the firelight, Karnark crouched beside a low enclosure. Inside, Lunira, the dire wolf mother, lay curled protectively around her cubs. She didn’t growl at his presence now.

Karnark gently lowered a piece of roasted meat to her. "You’ve earned your share too."

The wolf’s eyes met his. She didn’t move for a moment... then leaned forward and took the offering.

Karnark exhaled. Not just in relief, but pride.

"We’ll protect this place together," he whispered, watching the cubs stir beside her.