CHAPTER 153: CHAPTER 152: THE WEIGHT OF SHADOWS

"Watch your words, goblin!" Aurelya snapped, cheeks flushed with color as she flicked her hand forward.

A small fireball ignited in her palm and shot toward Skitz in a bright streak.

But Skitz didn’t flinch.

He raised his hand lazily, and space twisted.

A swirling blot of darkness, like a tiny void, bloomed in his palm and swallowed the fire whole. No sound. No heat. Just... nothing.

The spell vanished without a trace.

Everyone froze.

Lumberling’s brows lifted. Even Thessalia’s usual composure cracked, and Vaenyra leaned forward slightly, eyes glowing with unease.

"Did he just... absorb my spell?" Aurelya muttered, stunned.

Before anyone could ask further, Skitz’s figure began to shimmer and fade, like smoke unraveling in the wind.

Only his voice remained, echoing through the courtyard with a mischievous lilt.

"I’ll speak with you later, my Lord," he said. "Take care of your women for me."

And then, silence.

Lumberling blinked, then chuckled low in his throat.

He turned to the three elves, Aurelya fuming, Vaenyra thoughtful, and Thessalia with a dangerous glint in her eye.

"He didn’t want to show it off in front of you," Lumberling said quietly, almost to himself. "Which means... he wanted me to see."

Thessalia crossed her arms, her voice cold. "That goblin... he’s dangerous."

"That he is," Lumberling replied, pride threading through his tone. "After all, he’s the most talented our village has to offer."

There was a pause.

Then Aurelya mumbled, still scowling, "He better not talk like that again or I’ll throw something bigger next time."

"You might just end up fueling him," Vaenyra murmured.

Lumberling gave a short laugh.

....

That night, beneath the glow of twin moons and the flicker of watch fires, Lumberling met with Skitz atop the village overlook.

The goblin stood with arms folded behind his back, the wind tugging at his dark cloak. His silhouette was sharper now, taller, more composed, the shadow of a man rather than a beast.

"You’ve grown again," Lumberling said with a faint smile, stepping beside him.

Skitz smirked, his eyes glinting in the dark. "You too, my Lord. I can barely smell the human on you anymore. You’re starting to feel... like something else."

Lumberling chuckled low. "That’s not comforting."

Skitz shrugged. "Power rarely is."

A brief silence followed, broken only by the soft howl of wind and distant goblin laughter from the lower grounds.

"You’ve done well," Lumberling said finally. "The men respect you. They followed you home like a king."

"I follow one," Skitz replied, his tone steady.

Lumberling turned to look at him. "I never asked for loyalty."

"You didn’t have to," Skitz said. "You gave us purpose. Structure. Pride. We may be monsters, but under you, we’re more than that."

Another pause.

"You sure you’re not planning to take my place?" Lumberling teased.

"If I ever do," Skitz grinned, "it’ll be after I make you a legend."

The two shared a laugh, brief, but genuine.

Then Lumberling’s voice grew quiet. "There’ll be darker days ahead, Skitz. Stay sharp."

Skitz’s grin faded into something calmer. "Always, my Lord."

.....

The wind had quieted. Skitz’s posture shifted, relaxed smirk vanishing into something cold, sharpened.

Then he spoke, voice low.

"My Lord... I encountered a cultist near our second base."

Lumberling’s brow creased. "A cultist?"

Skitz nodded once. "He served something called Naxxiriss. A serpent god, or so he claimed."

At that name, a chill stirred through Lumberling. Naxxiriss.

Buried memories surfaced, blood-soaked fields, dead bodies, firelight over a stone altar. Years ago, a whole settlement, Sangun village, sacrificed in one night. He’d been there. With Uncle Drake, Orrin, and Chief Eldric. They’d fought their way through robed fanatics and half-formed beasts, cutting down dozens. But the cult’s numbers were overwhelming, and they were forced to retreat. Later, rumors claimed the nobles had wiped the remnants out.

So why was he hearing that name again?

"Are there more of them?" he asked, his voice steady despite the weight behind it.

Skitz scowled. "He was alone... and mad. Kept muttering things that made my head hurt. That crazy bastard nearly killed me. But.." his tone shifted to something colder, more focused "thanks to him, I pushed through a threshold. Evolved again."

Lumberling’s eyes narrowed. "You gained something?"

"Strength. And knowledge." Skitz leaned against a post. "He raved about a gathering. About blood, scale, and rebirth. And... he mentioned a presence. Something that matched the aura I felt when we scouted that lizardman den to the east."

"You mean the one near the wetlands?" Lumberling asked.

Skitz nodded. "Yeah. When we entered the outskirts of their lair, something deep in the earth... it pulsed. Not natural. That same corrupt energy I felt from the cultist, it was there."

Lumberling folded his arms, his gaze drifting into the dark horizon.

"They’re hiding something. Maybe that’s why the lizardmen haven’t bothered expanding west into our territory. They’re protecting something sacred, or dangerous."

Skitz’s eyes gleamed. "Either way, we can’t ignore it."

Lumberling nodded slowly. "No. We strike now before whatever they’re guarding wakes up. We’ll prepare the raid tonight."

Then his voice lowered. "And we’ll ask Vaenyra for support. Just in case."

Then, just as Lumberling was about to leave, Skitz stepped forward and raised a hand to stop him.

"My Lord," he said, bowing his head. "I would like to make a request."

Lumberling turned, brows lifting slightly. "Speak."

Skitz looked up, his expression unusually solemn. "Could we attack them, only the two of us?"

Lumberling blinked. "Just us?" His voice was calm, but the question hung heavy between them.

Skitz nodded, the shadow of something old and personal flickering in his gaze. "Please allow me to absorb all their essences. I believe it will help me grow... immensely. That ability I showed you earlier, the one that devoured Aurelya’s flame, it awakened after my fight with that cultist."

He paused, clenching his fist at his side.

"I felt something, during that battle. The curse I bear, the same one my mother suffered, it resonated. The power the cultist used... it felt connected. As if they’re tied to the source of that curse."

Lumberling studied him in silence. Beneath the bravado and sharp tongue, Skitz was desperate, not for glory, but for answers.

"You want to find the truth," Lumberling said quietly.

Skitz nodded once.

Lumberling crossed his arms, considering. "You know it would be safer with the elves. If Vaenyra came, it’d be no contest."

"I know," Skitz replied, steady now. "But with you by my side, I believe it’s enough. I sensed the strength of their guardian. He’s strong, but not beyond us. Likely only a Knight One Stage Level."

Lumberling exhaled. The plan was reckless. Dangerous. But he trusted Skitz like few others.

And maybe... maybe this was something the goblin needed to do for himself.

"Alright," Lumberling finally said, his voice firm. "If it will help you, then we’ll do it your way. We’ll wait until the elves leave. A few months of preparation."

Skitz lowered his head again, deeper this time.

"Thank you, my Lord," he said, his voice quiet and sincere.

Lumberling gave a faint smile. "Just don’t die on me. I’ll be very annoyed."

Skitz chuckled. "With you around? I’d say our odds just doubled."