CHAPTER 207: CHAPTER 206: MONSTERS THAT ENDURE

At that, Gordon gave a humorless chuckle. "Carrion crows. They circle the chaos, picking at the wounded and feeding off the war. Raiding villages, ambushing stragglers, every battle gives them new ground to pillage."

For a moment, the table was quiet, the weight of the truth pressing down on them.

Finally, Liraeth exhaled slowly, her eyes firm. "That is the state of our Empire, Lord Lumberling. The Emperor guards his secrets, the Sengolio press our borders, allies and enemies alike chase after the cursed land... and still, we must fight. With what little we have."

Lumberling stared at the map, then back at her. "Then I’ll stand with you. But know this, whatever lies in that Duskwind Field, if men are willing to kill thousands for it, we’ll be stepping into more than just war."

Liraeth studied him across the table, her expression unreadable, but there was a faint curve at the corner of her lips, as though his words had confirmed something she had already believed.

"The truth is," Gordon rumbled, leaning back in his chair, "most nobles have stopped looking to the Emperor. His eyes are only on the Duskwind Field. Whatever he’s guarding there, it matters more to him than our lands or our people."

Sorrin’s voice was harder, sharper. "So the rest of us fight alone. There are still Five Legates who hold the lines besides the one that were on the cursed land, a few nobles rise like heroes... and the rest hide behind their walls, praying the war passes them by."

Liraeth’s gaze slid toward Lumberling, steady and measuring. "That is when I noticed your band. Small as you are, you’ve done what many lords would not, you struck back. Sengolio, Vikings... you didn’t cower, you fought. That is why I want your service."

"And you’re not alone," Liraeth continued. "The Church of the Twilight Prayer has answered my call. They have a branch here, and since they refused to abandon it, they’ve agreed to send their force. Once they arrive, we begin. Our banners will march to meet Sengolio."

Sorrin nodded in approval, but Gordon frowned. "The Church may fight, but they always fight with their own rules. Don’t count them as steady allies."

Liraeth glanced down at the map again, tracing the lines of villages lost. "Rules or not, we’ll need every sword we can get."

The table fell silent again, the weight of what was to come hanging over them. Outside, the muffled sounds of his monster soldiers could be heard laughing and arguing in their guttural tongue, so loud and alive.

...

That night, the weight of maps and words still clung to him. By morning, he had only one answer, steel must be honed.

The next morning, Lumberling approached Liraeth in the hall.

"Viscount, if it’s possible, grant us use of your training ground."

Liraeth blinked, surprised. "Training? After weeks on the march? You and your men should rest. The battle isn’t far off."

"That’s more the reason to train," Lumberling answered calmly. "Rest makes us soft. My soldiers know this well."

Liraeth hesitated, then finally gestured toward Gordon. "Very well. See that they’re given space. But I expect no trouble."

The training ground was a wide dirt yard behind the mansion, ringed with wooden dummies, straw targets, and fencing posts. When Lumberling’s subordinates assembled there, the human soldiers lounging nearby leaned on spears, expecting to see clumsy beasts swing weapons.

But what followed froze every eye on the grounds.

The goblins slammed their bodies against wooden posts until blood streaked the grain, growling as they rose again. Kobolds dropped to the dirt, hammering fists and elbows into the ground until the skin split, then pushed on, repeating with frightening rhythm. Others carried logs across their shoulders while comrades struck their backs with blunt weapons, the impacts sounding like war drums.

The air was filled with snarls, guttural chants, and the thud of flesh meeting wood and earth. There was no mercy between them, if one faltered, another kicked him back to his feet. Yet there was no hatred either, only a grim unity.

From the veranda, Liraeth stood with Gordon and Sorrin, her lips parting slightly. "They... they’ll break themselves like this."

Gordon’s eyes narrowed, but there was a glimmer of respect. "No, my lady. They’re forging themselves. I’ve seen soldiers push hard, but never with this kind of savagery."

The human soldiers who had gathered whispered among themselves, uneasy. "Gods... they’re monsters," one muttered. "They’re beating themselves bloody."

"They don’t even stop," another said, clutching his spear tighter. "How can men fight beside... that?"

Sorrin, however, remained quiet for a long while, his gaze fixed on Lumberling at the center of it all. The young man barked short commands, demonstrating stances, forcing the monsters to repeat movements until their limbs trembled. When one kobold collapsed, Lumberling didn’t scold, he knelt, corrected his form, then pulled him up by the arm and pushed him forward again.

At last, Sorrin exhaled, his tone low, almost to himself. "I once thought he was just a stubborn boy in the dojo... trying to grasp the basics. Now look at him. He’s not just training, he’s teaching."

Liraeth folded her arms, unsettled but unwilling to look away. "They’re dangerous," she said softly. "But perhaps that’s what we need."

The training yard echoed with another crash as a goblin hurled himself against a post, rebounded, and roared in defiance. The human soldiers flinched. But Lumberling’s monsters only grinned, bleeding and bruised, as if pain itself was their proof of strength.

The sound of guttural roars and heavy breathing filled the yard, then suddenly, the air shifted. A strange pulse rippled outward, faint but undeniable. The training came to a halt as five figures staggered forward. Aren, Skarn, Takkar, Gobo1, and Gobo2. Their bodies trembled, but their eyes burned with fierce light.

As the mana flared, a faint tremor rippled through the ground. Even the air seemed to thicken, heavy with unseen force. The humans, without meaning to, shuffled back a step, eyes wide.

"Why does the air feel... heavy?" one muttered

Lumberling stepped closer, expression steady. He could tell immediately, his five captains had achieved it.

"Finally... They’ve reached the Concordant state," he said quietly, though pride flickered in his voice. ’From here, they can begin building their mana hearts.’