CHAPTER 64: CHAPTER 63

In Turpan City

Lumberling inspected the armor rack in silence, fingers brushing over the cool iron. His old armor, dented, scratched, and cracked in places—had seen too many battles. He chose a fresh set of iron plating, simple but durable, and matched it with a hooded cloak, new boots, a finely balanced iron sword, and a sturdier spear with a reinforced shaft.

Skitz approached moments later, arms full of supplies.

"My Lord," he said, placing the goods down carefully, "I’ve secured new iron armor sets tailored for our evolved captains. I also bought some books for the children in the village, and gathered blacksmith tools, repair kits, and other equipment that our captains and vice-captains might need."

"Good work," Lumberling replied. "Any news on mental-type skills?"

Skitz shook his head, expression tight. "None, I’m afraid. Most of the merchants haven’t even heard of skills like that."

"I see," Lumberling muttered. "Not unexpected. We’ll try another city next time."

With their errands complete, Lumberling, Jen, and Old Man Dan left the bustling market behind and began the journey home.

A few days later, they made a brief stop at the quiet village where Uncle Drake was staying. The fields were peaceful now, bathed in golden afternoon light.

Jen rushed ahead toward one of the houses as soon as she caught sight of a familiar figure.

"Aunt Celine!"

The older woman turned from hanging laundry and brightened with a warm smile. "Jen, you’ve grown again!" She crouched to embrace her, and the two quickly fell into laughter and conversation, catching up as if no time had passed.

Lumberling stood back with Old Man Dan, surveying the village. It was quieter than before, no sign of Eldric’s commanding presence. Just a few farmers tending fields, and smoke curling lazily from the chimneys.

"He still hasn’t returned?" Lumberling asked.

One of the villagers nearby answered with a respectful nod. "Chief Eldric was conscripted months ago. Serving under one of the generals, last we heard."

"I see," Lumberling replied quietly, arms crossed.

Old Man Dan grunted. "The man was built for war, but still... hope he finds his way back."

Lumberling nodded, gaze drifting toward the mountains in the distance.

They stayed only for a short while. Enough for Jen to share stories with Celine and leave her one of the books they had bought in the city. As they prepared to leave, Celine placed a hand on Lumberling’s arm.

"Thank you for watching over her."

Lumberling simply nodded. "We’ll be back again. This place still feels like home."

Then, with the sun beginning its descent, the three of them set out down the path once more toward the village.

.....

One morning in the goblin village.

The mist still clung to the trees like breath on glass when Lumberling stepped onto the training grounds. Around the village, life stirred slowly, kobolds stoking cookfires, goblins stretching sore limbs, children fetching water in pairs. But at the heart of it all, under banners hung from sharpened pikes, two figures faced each other in silence.

Skitz rolled his shoulders. His lean, gray-skinned frame was nearly human now, sleek muscle, pointed ears twitching faintly with focus. His eyes gleamed, sharp and eager.

"My Lord," he said, a grin tugging at his lips. "Let’s see if you’ve improved since yesterday."

Lumberling smirked, stepping into a low stance, wooden training spear in hand. "I’m putting you on the ground this time."

The two circled each other, footsteps light. Their sparring was routine now, both a habit and a necessity. Skitz had grown stronger since his evolution, but Lumberling refused to fall behind. Not when the stakes had grown so high. Not when his own mind had begun to betray him.

The first clash came fast. Wood struck wood, Skitz’s footwork flawless. Lumberling responded with sheer grit and unpredictable angles, less a soldier, more a brawler with purpose.

A feint. A pivot. A near-sweep of the legs.

Lumberling countered with a grunt and surged forward driven by something deeper. Something sharp. His grip tightened.

Skitz lunged with a testing jab, nothing serious, barely threatening.

But Lumberling’s vision blurred.

The trees blurred.

The dirt became stone. The training spear in his hand felt heavier. Thicker. No longer wood.

A claw.

Skitz’s face changed, no longer a friend, but prey.

’Kill.’

’Feed.’

’Rip.’

Lumberling let out a guttural snarl—a sound not fully his—and lunged with terrifying speed, his training spear aimed straight for Skitz’s throat with killing intent.

Skitz’s eyes widened. There was no time to react.

But the blow stopped mid-air, less than an inch from his neck.

Lumberling’s hand trembled, spear still crackling with energy. He stared blankly, chest heaving. A long silence stretched across the yard, broken only by the whispering wind.

Then, slowly, he lowered the weapon.

Skitz didn’t flinch. But he stared.

Silence fell.

"...I almost—"

"You didn’t," Skitz cut in, steady but firm. "You stopped yourself, my Lord."

Lumberling opened and closed his fist. It still felt foreign. Hot. Like something old and hungry stirred beneath his skin.

"I saw him," Lumberling said quietly. "The Shade stalker."

"The moment it died... I didn’t just remember it. I became it. That lunge wasn’t mine. It was a hunt."

Skitz stepped closer, resting a hand on his Lord’s shoulder. "Then it means you’re still in control. It means you haven’t lost yourself yet."

Lumberling didn’t reply. His jaw clenched. His pulse still raced, not with exertion, but with the aftertaste of bloodlust.

Then, slowly, he exhaled and nodded. "Barely."

Skitz watched him, concern flickering in his gaze. There was no advice he could give for something like this. No lesson in the world prepared you for being devoured from within.

"I need to return to the cities," Lumberling said at last, his voice low but firm. "This can’t go on. I have to find something, anything that can help me control this before it gets worse."

"Take me with you this time, my Lord," Skitz said firmly, conviction in his voice. He was no longer the same goblin from before, now strong enough to stand at Lumberling’s side, and unwilling to let him face this burden alone.

Lumberling hesitated. "The village..."

"They’ll be fine," Skitz replied without pause. "You made them strong. They can hold the fort without us, Krivex can handle things."

Lumberling fell silent, weighing the thought. Truthfully, bringing Skitz was the better choice. He could help search for skills, mental fortifications, or even rare artifacts that might keep the instincts at bay.

After a long moment, he gave a slow nod. "Alright. We go together. We leave in three days."

Skitz simply nodded.

After Lumberling Left.

Skitz stood alone on the training ground, surrounded by fading echoes of the clash.

The dust had settled, the sun creeping higher over the pike-lined rooftops, but his Lord’s back had already disappeared beyond the treeline, swallowed by the morning mist.

He didn’t move. Not at first.

His arm still ached faintly from where the training spear had nearly struck. Not from pain, but from the weight behind it, intent that hadn’t been there before.

Skitz clenched his jaw.

He’d seen his Lord bleed. Seen him falter. But never like this. Never shaken by something unseen. Unspoken. Within.

And that’s what unsettled him the most.

The monster in that spar wasn’t his Lord... but it was.

He looked down at his own hands. Calloused, hardened, strong.

But not strong enough to carry this burden alone.

He turned toward the quiet village. Children were laughing somewhere near the river. Smoke curled from the chimneys. Life moved on.

But deep down, Skitz knew, if Lumberling collapsed under the weight of his own strength, everything they’d built would follow.

His claws tightened into fists.

"I won’t let that happen," he murmured.

He would do more than follow.

He would protect.

Even if that meant facing whatever darkness haunted his Lord. And if his Lord ever lost his way... he would be the one to pull him back, no matter how far he fell.

.....

The captains stood in a semicircle around Lumberling beneath the village’s central pavilion. Morning mist still clung to the treetops, and sunlight filtered through the rising smoke of cooking fires. The scent of boiled roots and smoked meat drifted on the breeze, but the air around them held a quiet weight.

Lumberling’s gaze swept over his captains, Gobo1 and Gobo2 standing casually with blades at their hips, Aren with his elite squad behind him in quiet formation, Takkar, Skarn, and Vakk in their armor, already smelling of sweat and training. Krivex stood at his side, calm and sharp-eyed as always.

"I’ll keep this short," Lumberling said, voice steady but unusually distant. "I’ll be leaving again soon... to visit the cities."

The captains tensed, glancing at one another.

"My Lord, another trip so soon?" Krivex asked. "Is there trouble?"

"No trouble," Lumberling replied quickly. "At least, not in the way you’re thinking. But I need to search for something, skills or artifacts that help fortify the mind. I need to... strengthen myself."

He didn’t elaborate, and none dared push further. Even Skitz, standing silently at his side, said nothing.

Lumberling continued, "While I’m away, the village still needs to grow. Krivex, you’ll oversee operations as always. I trust your judgment in handling logistics, security, and communication between units."

Krivex bowed slightly. "Understood, my Lord."

"Gobo1, Gobo2, you’re authorized to bring squads into the deeper forest for training and monster hunts. Help the newer soldiers adapt, but don’t take unnecessary risks."

Gobo1 saluted. "We’ll cull the weak ones and sharpen the rest."

Gobo2 grinned. "And I get to kill things. Excellent."

Lumberling smirked faintly before turning to Aren. "Your elite unit will serve as reinforcement. If Gobo’s squads encounter anything beyond their capabilities, I expect you to support them, and to continue training your own."

"Yes, my Lord." Aren’s eyes glinted with pride.

"Takkar, Vakk, Skarn, you’re cleared to run drills and expand your units’ capabilities. Focus on coordination. Keep the militia sharp, the guard tighter, and the boar cavalry even deadlier."

Each kobold nodded in turn, pounding their fists to their chests.

Lumberling exhaled and looked across them all. "The deeper forest is dangerous. But so is stagnation. Evolve or die. That goes for all of us."

.....

Later that afternoon, Beneath the quiet shade of the village watchtower, Grokk stood tall, the black iron collar still resting around his neck, a weight that had long since become familiar. Lumberling leaned against the post beside him, arms folded, the forest wind brushing past them in hushed gusts.

"You called for me, Master?" Grokk asked, voice low but even.

Lumberling didn’t speak right away. He studied the gnoll’s posture, alert, disciplined, far from the defiant raider he once was.

Lumberling studied him for a moment. "Grokk... you’ve stayed. Obeyed. Protected. But I’ve never asked: what do you want to do from now on?"

Grokk blinked. The question struck him harder than any command.

"I... I’m not sure."

"You were a leader once," Lumberling continued. "Then a prisoner. Now you stand among us, but what are you standing for?"

Grokk turned his head, eyes drifting over the village.

He saw Jen laughing as she fed the wolf pups. Goblins and kobolds trading supplies near the forge. Soldiers running drills. A young hobgoblin fumbling a spear stance while Gobo1 corrected it with a slap and a grunt. The scent of stew and smelted iron filled the air.

Then his gaze settled on the stone classroom at the village center, the one Lumberling had helped build for Jen.

"You spared that dire wolf," Grokk said quietly. "You built a school for a child. You train monsters like they’re soldiers, not slaves. No warlord does that. No conqueror thinks like that."

He met Lumberling’s eyes.

"You’re building more than a village. You’re building a future. And I want to protect it."

Without hesitation, Grokk dropped to one knee. One fist to his chest. This time, it wasn’t forced by the collar.

"I swore to you once just to save my life. But now... I swear because I choose to. I’ll guard this village until my last breath."

Lumberling said nothing for a while. He looked down at the black iron collar still resting on Grokk’s neck.

"I won’t remove it yet," he said quietly. "But if you protect them while I’m gone... if you prove this isn’t just another vow... then I’ll break it myself."

Grokk bowed deeper. "Then I’ll make sure you come home to find it still standing."

.....

As dusk fell, Lumberling found Jen playing near the pen where the wolf pups tumbled and barked. Her laugh rang out as one of them leapt awkwardly into her arms. Old Man Dan watched nearby, sharpening a rusted farming scythe.

"Brother!" Jen grinned as she saw him. "You’re not leaving again, are you?"

Lumberling paused, then gave her a sad smile. "Only for a while."

She frowned but nodded. "I figured. You’ve been... quiet. Is something wrong?"

He crouched beside her and shook his head gently. "It’s nothing you need to worry about."

Jen didn’t press. Instead, she leaned into him, hugging his side. "Be careful, okay?"

"I will."

"I have new friends now anyway," she said, motioning to the pups. "They howl really loudly at night though. Just like you when you stub your toe."

Lumberling chuckled. "They’ll protect you while I’m away."

"Don’t worry about me," she said, more softly now. "Just come back. You promised to teach me more."

Lumberling’s smile faltered for a heartbeat, then returned, warmer. Stronger.

"I’ll keep that promise."

And as the stars crept above the treetops, Lumberling turned back toward the center of the village, toward Krivex, toward Skitz, and toward the long road ahead.

He was not at peace.

But he was prepared.

....

Three days later.

The morning fog had just begun to lift when the two figures stood at the edge of the village gate, travel cloaks draped over their shoulders, packs secured, and weapons checked one last time.

A small crowd had gathered to see them off, captains, villagers, and children alike. The scent of morning dew and tilled soil filled the air, mingling with the faint smoke of cookfires. The wolves watched from their pen. The boars snorted restlessly. A silence hung over the moment like a curtain.

Krivex stepped forward, saluting crisply. "We’ll hold things here. No matter how long you’re gone."

Lumberling nodded. "I trust you. Don’t hesitate to act if something changes."

"Of course, my Lord."

Gobo1 gave a short wave. "Don’t forget to bring back something fun this time. Like... a sword that roars or explodes."

Gobo2 scoffed. "You couldn’t even handle a sword that squeaks."

"Enough," Aren interrupted gently, stepping forward with his spear across his back. "We’ll keep the training strict. The deeper forest’s been calling anyway."

Takkar pounded his chest. "Our blades will stay sharp."

Skitz gave them all a nod of thanks. "Protect each other. And don’t slack off, when we return, I’ll test every one of you."

Jen approached quietly, one of the wolf pups clinging to her side. She looked up at her brother, holding something behind her back. A smooth, polished stone tied with twine.

"It’s not magic," she admitted with a small smile, "but it’s lucky. I made it with the wolves."

Lumberling crouched down, taking it gently. "That makes it better than magic."

She hugged him tight.

"I’ll come back," he whispered into her hair. "I promise."

Old Man Dan stood a little off to the side, arms folded, watching with that old soldier’s calm.

And with that, he and Skitz turned toward the road.

Skitz walked silently, but his hand hovered near his blade. He couldn’t protect his Lord from nightmares, but he would face whatever else tried to follow them out of that forest.

The gate opened.

The forest stretched ahead, paths winding into mist, the shadows of towering trees like sentinels waiting to judge them.

They didn’t look back.

Only forward.