CHAPTER 152: CHAPTER 151: WHEN GOBLINS MARCH LIKE KINGS

The sun was barely up, golden light streaking through the canopy as four figures circled the training yard, barefoot on dew-slick grass, wooden weapons in hand.

Lumberling grinned across at Aurelya as they warmed up, his gaze lingering just a second too long.

She noticed.

"What?" she snapped, jabbing her practice sword into the ground. "Why do you keep looking at me like that? It’s creepy."

Lumberling tilted his head, still smiling. "So you’re a Marquess’ spoiled daughter."

Aurelya blinked, caught off guard. "Who told you that?"

"Thessalia," he replied, matter-of-factly, like it was obvious.

Aurelya’s eyes darted toward Thessalia. "You told him that?"

Thessalia didn’t even blink. "It’s not a secret. And I didn’t tell him for gossip. I thought he should know what kind of trouble he’s dealing with."

"I’m not spoiled," Aurelya muttered, flustered. "I trained with knights. I bled in campaigns."

"And still threw a tantrum when you lost to me in chess last week," Thessalia added, dry as ever.

"You cheated!" Aurelya shouted.

Vaenyra chuckled under her breath. "Spoiled or not, she nearly knocked Lumberling off his feet last time."

Lumberling raised a hand. "To be fair, she nearly breaks my ribs every morning. Is this how elven nobility flirts?"

"We’re not flirting," Aurelya said quickly.

"I’m not denying it," Thessalia added, arching a brow at him. "But don’t pretend you’re not enjoying the attention."

Vaenyra walked past him, lightly tapping his shoulder with the shaft of her glaive. "He enjoys everything. Even getting beaten."

Lumberling shrugged. "It’s the only way I learn."

Aurelya rolled her eyes, already stepping into stance. "Then let’s educate you properly, my Lord Peasant."

He grinned again, raising his spear. "Yes, Lady Mushroom."

Aurelya lunged, training match officially resumed.

...

Their sparring match wound down with panting breaths and flushed faces. Wooden blades and spears clacked together one last time before the four stepped back, sweat gleaming on their skin, muscles loose with exertion.

Just as Lumberling straightened, wiping his brow with the back of his hand, a sharp cry split the morning air.

Kreeeee!

A shadow dipped overhead. A golden eagle dove from the sky in a majestic arc, wings outstretched, feathers catching the sunlight like polished bronze.

Lumberling stilled, eyes narrowing. The eagle circled once before descending, slowing midair with practiced grace. It landed squarely on his shoulder with a flap of its powerful wings, talons gripping gently against his armor.

He reached calmly for the piece of paper tied to its leg.

Lumberling unfurled the message and read in silence. His lips slowly curled into a half-smile, nostalgic, maybe even proud.

Aurelya stepped closer, curiosity sparking in her golden eyes. "What is it? Who sent it?"

Lumberling looked up from the letter, the eagle still perched on him like an old companion.

He met her gaze. "Skitz is returning."

Vaenyra blinked. "The goblin?"

"That human-like goblin," Thessalia corrected, arms folded. "A peculiar creature, far too intelligent for what he is."

Lumberling nodded, slipping the message into his belt. "The same one. Says he’ll be back within the week."

Aurelya raised a brow. "You trust a goblin that much?"

Lumberling chuckled. "More than I trust most people. He’s proven himself."

Above them, the eagle let out a sharp cry and launched skyward, wings beating powerfully as it vanished into the clouds.

.....

A week later, the stillness of the goblin village shattered as the rhythmic thud of armored boots echoed from beyond the treeline.

Horns blared. Goblin sentries scrambled to their posts.

"The Vice-Leader has returned!" one of the guards shouted down from the watchtower.

A ripple of excitement and unease spread through the village.

The captains, Krivex, Skarn, Takkar... were already assembled near the gate, standing in rigid formation, weapons at their sides, expressions tight with anticipation.

Lumberling set aside his morning training and moved toward the gate. Beside him stood the three elves, Vaenyra, Thessalia, and Aurelya, curious spectators to what they’d heard only rumors of.

The air grew heavier as the marching grew closer.

Then, with a deep groan, the gates creaked open.

First through was a tall figure with light gray skin, pointed ears, and strikingly sharp features, inhumanly symmetrical, almost noble. His armor was polished black and steel-trimmed, and he wore a long cloak of burnt crimson.

It was Skitz.

The once goblin rogue now walked like a commander. His grin was familiar, but the aura rolling off him had changed, deeper, more refined, like coiled power wrapped in silk.

Even without a word, it was clear.

Something was different.

Lumberling’s eyes narrowed as he studied Skitz’s stride, the confident posture, the weight of each step. There was no mistaking it.

"He’s changed," Thessalia murmured, arms folded. "Knight One Stage Level."

Aurelya gave a low whistle. "What did he do, wrestle an orc warlord?"

Vaenyra, however, watched with sharper eyes. Her emerald gaze followed the subtle ripple in the air around Skitz’s body, faint veins of dark mist, like tendrils of smoke slipping just beneath his skin. They pulsed in rhythm with his breath.

There was power there. Not just raw strength, but something murkier. Something not entirely... goblin, as if he wore a second skin of smoke.

She couldn’t say if it was a blessing or a curse. But it felt dangerous.

"It feels like Skitz is the main character today," Gobo2 muttered beside them, arms crossed as if trying to look serious.

Skarn grinned, jabbing an elbow into Takkar’s side. "You see that cloak? I bet he’s gonna start monologuing."

Takkar grunted. "If he does, I’m walking off."

Gobo1 leaned in with mock concern. "Do we bow? Or salute? Or just roll over and pretend to be inspired?"

The captains burst into low laughter as Skitz came to a halt before them, his shadow stretching just a bit longer than it should have beneath the morning sun.

Behind Skitz, a disciplined column of soldiers marched in formation, their steps in perfect rhythm, the earth gently quaking beneath their boots and clawed feet. Dust rose in slow spirals as they halted just inside the gate.

Aurelya’s eyes narrowed. "Your guys got stronger again," she muttered, arms crossed.

Thessalia raised an eyebrow. "That’s... an understatement."

Two towering Kobold Berserkers stood like statues of muscle and rage at the front ranks.

A Hobgoblin Warrior marched beside them, his armor reinforced and polished, his gaze sharp and loyal. They were the newly evolve ones in their ranks.

Behind them were clearly organized units: silent Hunter squads draped in camouflage, lean Archer units with curved crossbows across their backs, disciplined Militia with spears and wooden shields, and an Elite Vanguard, the elite squad, each member having already evolved and battle-tested. Even the Boar Riders were new and improved, sitting atop massive, tusked war boars whose hides bore tribal markings and scarred armor.

Then, as one, Skitz raised a hand, and the entire force dropped to one knee with a synchronized thud that echoed through the village.

The elves’ eyes widened.

The captains stiffened, awkwardly caught between laughing and saluting.

Even the boars knelt, their heads lowered, snorting steam into the dirt.

Skitz walked steadily forward, stopping a few paces in front of Lumberling. The goblin’s grin widened as he met his Lord’s eyes.

Lumberling blinked. "What are you guys doing?"

Skitz threw a glance over his shoulder, then gave Lumberling a toothy grin. "We’re trying to make you look badass in front of your women. I heard from Gobo2 that you guys are marrying."