CHAPTER 212: OATHBOUND

I was currently on Drugar’s Chosen, so I switched it to Chosen Leader.

The reflection shimmered faintly on the system panel, and the moment the title settled in, a new set of glowing options unfolded before me.

[Members]

[Add] [Remove]

I selected [Add].

A thin line of light traced across the interface, followed by another prompt.

[Select Target]

Select?

I turned toward Gork and Nira, both standing uneasily a few paces away. The tension in the air was heavy; even the faint rustle of the forest around us couldn’t break it.

The moment my gaze settled on Gork, the system reacted instantly, a fresh prompt flashing in front of me.

[Would you like to add Gork to your clan?]

[Would you like to add Nira to your clan?]

"Yes," I said. The word came out steady, deliberate.

Almost immediately, both goblins lifted their heads, their eyes flicking toward the air. They were most likely seeing the invitation that I had sent to them.

They looked at each other once, a silent exchange that said more than words could.

They exchanged a brief glance, silent but understanding. No words passed between them, only a shared decision carried in that fleeting look. Then, together, they accepted.

A faint grin pulled at the corner of my mouth, not out of joy but out of quiet satisfaction. Step one was complete.

"Now for the oath..."

I thought for a moment, considering the phrasing, wanting it to bind clearly and leave no room for interpretation. When I finally spoke again, my tone was deliberate, every word carrying weight.

"Swear on Drugar’s name," I said slowly, each word carrying the weight of command, "that you will obey every time I give an order and say, ’It’s an order.’ You will not leave this clan unless I permit it, nor will you betray me or intentionally cause harm to the clan you’ve chosen to join. If you attempt to break any part of this oath, your life will end immediately—no delay, no warning."

The tension in the air thickened.

Gork and Nira’s faces soured, the light in their eyes hardening into something like anger wrapped in fear.

"Isn’t that a bit extreme? We’re basically signing away our freedom," Gork said, his words sharp even as his hands trembled.

He had a point — and I didn’t pretend otherwise.

"True," I admitted, my voice flat but honest, "But..."

I stepped closer so they could see I meant what I said, and I laid out the other side of the bargain.

"In return, I swear on Drugar’s name that I will never order you to harm one another, nor will I command you to do anything I know will get you killed. The moment I do give such an order, you are free to leave the clan, even if I try to stop you."

They considered that, eyes flicking between me and the smoking remains of Ingrid, measuring the weight of my promise against the cost of the oath.

It covered something, not everything — I couldn’t, in good conscience, promise to preserve their pride or spare them every indignity, because what they could take as humiliation could be nothing more than an ordinary order to me.

If I swore to protect their dignity, they’d be free to walk the moment something bruised their ego, and I couldn’t afford that kind of loose loyalty.

"This is the only guarantee I’m willing to make," I said plainly. "If you can’t accept it, the alternative is still open."

The words hung heavy in the air. They both knew what the alternative was, and the reminder alone was enough to make the tension in their shoulders ease slightly. Survival had a way of humbling even the proud.

After a pause, Gork finally spoke, his voice low but steady. "How do we know you’ll keep your end of it? What if we swear, and you don’t? You could trap us, force the oath to bind while doing nothing yourself."

"You’ll just have to trust my words," I said, my tone firm but calm. "I’m not here to convince you."

For a moment, he stared at me, weighing my expression for any hint of deceit. Then he exhaled slowly and nodded once.

"Fine," he said. "I swear on Drugar’s name that I will never leave the clan unless you command it, never defy you when you say the words ’it’s an order,’ and never act with the intent to harm the clan I now belong to. Should I attempt to break this oath, may I perish on the spot."

Nira followed immediately after, her voice quieter but unwavering, repeating the exact same words as Gork.

The moment they finished, the air shimmered faintly around them. I saw it—a dark, ethereal chain materializing for a brief instant before wrapping tightly around their forms. It wasn’t physical, but its presence was undeniable. It was the same kind of eerie, spiritual binding I’d once seen encasing Ariel when I’d made her swear.

And just like that, the oath was sealed.

The two stood still for a moment after the chains faded.

The silence that followed thick, filled only by the faint rustle of the forest and the sound of their shallow breaths.

Their faces were a mix of expectation and something rawer—worry, edged with a tentative relief that made them look smaller than before.

For a breath, I let the silence hang, tempted to stretch their fear a little further and enjoy the power of the moment, but I’d promised them mercy of a sort, so I didn’t toy with it more than necessary.

"I swear," I said, meeting both their eyes, my voice steady and deliberate, "that I will never order either of you to harm the other, nor will I command you to do anything I know will lead to your death. The moment I do give such an order, you are free to leave the clan, even if I object."

The tension drained from their shoulders like wind from a balloon; relief flickered across their features, and something like trust—shallow and fragile—began to settle in its place.

I stepped forward and offered both of them my hands, palms outward in a gesture that felt oddly formal for a goblin:

"Welcome to the clan," I said, the words simple but final.

It felt strange, recruiting by forcing a promise that bound them under threat of death, but if I wanted to reach the King’s Game in two weeks and stand a chance, I couldn’t afford loose loyalties.

This was the price of speed, and I was willing to pay it.

They...