As the moon ascended into the starless sky, Eryndor met Lady Commander Adara at the agreed-upon location. Adara led the way, her knowledge of the elven territory guiding them through the shadows.
They navigated silently, avoiding detection by the elven guards. Eryndor's eyes adjusted to the darkness, his senses heightened. Once they paused in a secluded alley, Eryndor focused inward. "System, are there skills in the shop that can aid in locating rare herbs and treasures?" he asked mentally. The system responded, "Ding! The skill Treasure Seeker is available for 500 points. Enhances detection of hidden treasures and rare resources." Eryndor purchased the skill without hesitation. "Follow me," he whispered to Adara. She raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "You don't know the layout. We can't risk alerting the guards." Eryndor smiled confidently. "Trust me." With renewed assurance, Adara trailed behind Eryndor as he navigated the winding paths. The Treasure Seeker skill highlighted hidden routes and concealed dangers. They evaded guards patrolling the settlement, Eryndor's newfound awareness guiding them. Adara's eyes widened in surprise; she hadn't expected Eryndor's sudden expertise. After several close calls, they reached the storehouse, a nondescript building nestled between two larger structures. "This is it," Eryndor whispered. "The Dragon's Breath and elven seeds are stored within." Adara's gaze locked onto the storehouse. "Let's proceed with caution." With a nod, Eryndor led the way, he knew this was a one time thing, and he could not afford to make a mess of it. Eryndor focused his fire magic, melting the lock on the storehouse door. The mechanism clicked open, and they slipped inside. The dimly lit room was filled with shelves stacked with rare herbs, seeds, and precious items. Eryndor's eyes widened, his Treasure Seeker skill highlighting the valuable treasures. Adara muttered under her breath, and the bronze ring on her finger glowed softly. Suddenly, most of the items in the storehouse were sucked into the ring. Eryndor's jaw dropped, his prepared bag forgotten in his hand. "What sorcery is this?" Adara smiled tersely. "I have a space ring. Let's go before the guards return." Eryndor nodded, stunned, but resolved to question her about the space ring later. Just as they exited the storehouse, a patrolling elven guard spotted them. "Intruders!" the guard shouted, raising his bow to sound the alarm. Adara and Eryndor sprinted in the opposite direction, dodging through the shadows. "We must move quickly," Adara urged, her breathless voice low. Eryndor kept pace beside her, his mind racing. The space ring's secrets would have to wait; survival came first. As they fled, the alarm spread, echoing through the elven settlement. After running for a while, Eryndor halted, turning to Adara as she struggled to keep up. His elven traits granted him superior speed, but he knew they couldn't risk leading the elves to the goblin village. "We need to make a detour," Eryndor called out, beckoning Adara toward him. Adara reached his side, panting. "Why?" "If we head straight for the village, the elves will discover our home. We can't risk it." Adara's eyes widened in understanding. "You're right." Eryndor pointed west. "We'll head toward the river, into Lizardmen territory. It's our best chance to shake them off." Adara nodded, and together they altered their course. As they ran, the elven guards' shouts grew fainter. Finally, they reached the river's edge, its flowing waters a welcome barrier. Eryndor and Adara stopped, chests heaving, and waited. "For the elves to catch up," Eryndor clarified, his gaze scanning the horizon. Adara raised an eyebrow. "You want them to find us?" Eryndor smiled wryly. "Let's say, I have a plan." The sun began to rise, casting a golden glow across the landscape. A few minutes passed before twenty to thirty elves, clad in leaf armor, arrived at the riverbank. Their leader, an elf with intricate markings on his armor, stepped forward. "Surrender, intruders," he demanded. "Return with us to Heartwood Palace." Eryndor smiled mischievously and turned toward the river. With a casual flick of his wrist, he threw a pebble into the water. The elves exchanged scornful glances, thinking Eryndor had lost his mind. But then, ripples disturbed the river's surface. Half-man, half-alligator creatures, towering as tall as a full-grown man, emerged from the depths. The Lizardmen. Their scaly bodies glistened in the morning light as they rose from the river, eyes fixed on the elves. The air thickened with tension. The Lizardmen, notorious for their territorial ferocity, charged toward the elves. Their powerful tails swished, sending water spraying everywhere. "Beneath the Surface, we were not to be disturbed!" one Lizardman bellowed. The elves, caught off guard, scrambled to defend themselves. Bows fired wildly as the Lizardmen closed in. Eryndor grasped Adara's arm, pulling her away from the chaos. "Time to leave," he whispered, smiling. As they fled, the sounds of clashing steel, snapping bows, and Lizardmen roars faded into the distance. Adara shot Eryndor a sidelong glance. "Your plan?" she asked, impressed. Eryndor chuckled. "Sometimes, it's better to have friends in unexpected places." He lied. He knew very well he had just come with that plan on a whim and the Lizardmen were in no way affliated with the goblins, but he wanted to create non-existent connection between the goblins and the Lizardmen so the humans may think twice before attacking his village when the Princess returns to her kingdom. They disappeared into the dense forest, leaving the battle behind. Eryndor and Adara arrived at the goblin village, greeted by curious onlookers. They gathered around, eager to witness the spoils. "Divide the loot," Eryndor declared, gesturing to the treasures retrieved from the space ring. Adara handed Eryndor a small pouch containing the part of the Dragon's Breath and the rare seeds as well as the water crystals Eryndor had asked for. "Your share." Eryndor accepted it, his eyes gleaming. With the division complete, Eryndor turned to Adara, Princess Isabella, and Sir Edward. "Take your share and leave the Dark Forest. Return to your kingdom." Princess Isabella's gaze lingered on Eryndor, her expression unreadable. "Thank you," she said softly, before turning to leave with Adara and Sir Edward. Eryndor watched them depart, his expression solemn. He sighed, aware that the Kingdom of the West would soon focus on him. "Sooner or later," he muttered, "they'll come for us." The old goblin Hunter, Thorik approached, concern etched on his face. "Chief, what troubles you?" Eryndor's resolve hardened. "We must strengthen our numbers. Prepare for battle." Thorik nodded, understanding. "The Western Kingdom won't hesitate. We must be ready." Eryndor's eyes narrowed, determination burning within. "I'll ensure our survival. No matter the cost." The goblin village buzzed with activity, warriors training, and preparations underway. Eryndor's thoughts turned to the future, anticipating the inevitable clash.Latest Chapter
Chapter 93. We Work Together
The council chamber of New Elyria was alive with voices even before Eryndor entered. Torches burned along the stone walls, shadows dancing across the long table where elves, goblins, centaurs, orcs, harpies, and humans sat side by side. It was a sight no one in the Eastern Continent would have believed, that so many races, once bitter enemies, now sat together under one roof.But unity was fragile, and tonight it trembled.The doors swung open. Eryndor stepped inside, his golden hair catching the torchlight, his silver armor gleaming. The room fell silent as all eyes turned to him. Behind him walked Lucius, ever calm and watchful, and Grimp, the hobgoblin who had been with Eryndor from the very beginning. Isabella, once a princess, now sat at his right hand, her gaze steady.Eryndor sat at the head of the table and folded his hands. “Speak,” he said simply. “What troubles you?”A human councilor, Lord Branwell, rose first. His face was pale, his fingers trembling as he held a parchmen
Chapter 92. The Alliance
The great hall of Valebridge Keep groaned under the weight of voices. Flames burned in golden braziers, casting long shadows across the round table where twelve kings sat in heavy chairs carved with the sigils of their kingdoms. The banners of the Southern Continent—wolves, lions, spears, suns, and towers—hung overhead, but tonight they did not bring pride. Tonight they were reminders of what could be lost.The fall of Draemir had shaken them. The destruction of Kelthorn only days later left no doubt—this was no common war. An evil sorcereress was here in their continent.. and she had brought hell with her.King Harland of Valebridge, the host, rose first. His silver beard spilled over his chest, and his iron crown gleamed. He slammed his hand on the table.“Brothers! We cannot sit idle. The shadow spreads with every sunrise. If we do nothing, our people will be cattle to that witch before the season ends.”Murmurs of agreement rippled through the chamber. But King Rhogar of Stonevale
Chapter 91. Duskmar's First Campaign
The night was darker than a grave. Clouds swallowed the moon, and no stars gave light. The world felt smothered, as though it already belonged to the shadow. Marching feet broke the silence, steady and relentless, like the beating of a single heart. At the front rode General Duskmar, his armor black as coal, his helm carved into the shape of a skull. Behind him stretched thousands of soldiers, once men and women, now bound in chains of shadow, their eyes glowing a sickly white. They did not speak. They did not breathe. They only obeyed.The army stopped when the first torch of Kelthorn flickered in the distance. It was a small farming town surrounded by low stone walls. Chickens clucked in coops, farmers snored in their beds, and lazy guards strolled along the ramparts with half-shut eyes. To them, this was just another peaceful night. To Duskmar, it was the beginning of conquest.He raised his black steel blade, and his voice carried like thunder.“Tonight, this town falls. Half of i
Chapter 90. The Shadow Returns
The great meeting hall of Eryndor’s keep was built of stone and timber, decorated with banners of every tribe, clan, and kin who had sworn loyalty to him. Wolves’ heads, harpy feathers, goblin marks, elven leaves, symbols of unity that once seemed impossible. The torches burned warmly along the walls, but the faces gathered around the table were serious.At the head of the long oak table sat Eryndor, the blonde elf whose calm strength had drawn beasts and men alike under his banner. At his right hand sat Lucius, broad-shouldered and sharp-eyed, his armor gleaming faintly in the torchlight. Beside him was Grimp, the hobgoblin who had followed Eryndor since the beginning, his tusked mouth pulled into a permanent scowl that disguised his loyalty.Further down sat Isabella, the former princess of Kryptoria, her beauty regal even in her simple gown, her hand resting lightly on Eryndor’s arm. Across from her, a wide circle of representatives, a centaur chieftain, a wolfkin matriarch, an orc
Chapter 89. Birth Of BlackRaven
The palace of Draemir was no longer a place of light. Once, its marble walls had gleamed in the morning sun, banners of the royal house fluttering proudly above its towers. Now the stone was stained with black veins of crawling shadow, and the banners had been burned to ash. The great hall, where kings once sat, was drowned in darkness that pulsed like a living heart.At the center stood Sorceress Lyra Moonwhisper.Her silver hair shimmered faintly against the gloom, her crimson eyes glowing like embers in a furnace. Around her knelt hundreds of soldiers clad in black, their armor ink-like, their eyes empty hollows. The Shadow Legion. They waited in silence, still as statues.At the front knelt a towering figure—General Duskmar, her chosen blade, his armor marked with runes that devoured light. His voice was deep and steady.“My mistress. The Legion is ready. Say the word, and they will march.”Lyra’s lips curved into a smile. “Good. But ready is not enough. The world must tremble whe
Chapter 88. Fear in Rakeshire
The town of Rakeshire always smelled of bread and river water. Every morning the air was filled with the sound of fishermen calling out, merchants shouting prices in the square, and children running through narrow cobbled streets. To strangers, it seemed like a place far away from war, far away from the darkness spreading across the lands.But for King Eisblish, the quiet streets were a cage.He walked through the marketplace, his cloak drawn low, his silver-gray beard tucked into his collar. Every step reminded him he was no longer a king. He was a man in hiding. At his side strode his son, Prince Arin, tall and sharp-eyed, his hair the same pale gold that marked him as royal.“Father,” Arin muttered, glancing at a group of blacksmiths hammering iron. “Do you see the way they look at us? They know we’re not from here.”Eisblish didn’t raise his eyes. “Keep your voice down, Arin. The less people notice us, the longer we live.”Arin’s jaw tightened. “Living? You call this living? Hidin
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