2025-04-26 22:03:57A few days passed, and Eryndor's hut door creaked open to Grimp's knock.
"Enter," Eryndor called out. Grimp stepped inside, his expression serious. "Chief, I've returned from scouting the Dark Forest." Eryndor gestured for Grimp to continue. "I found three other goblin clans in the western region," Grimp reported. "Each unique, each powerful." Eryndor leaned forward, intrigued. "Tell me more." Grimp nodded. "The first clan is led by Shaman Korga, a powerful spiritual leader. Their clan, the Shadowhand, wields dark magic and cunning." Eryndor's eyes narrowed. "A valuable ally." Grimp continued, "The second clan is the Ironfist, led by General Gorthok. Their warriors are well armored and formidable in battle." Eryndor's interest grew. "A military force to reckon with." Grimp smiled. "And the third clan, the Paradya, is led by Archer Vexar. They're skilled archers, mastering ranged combat." Eryndor's mind whirled with strategic possibilities. "Contact them," he decided. "We need allies against the Western Kingdom." Grimp nodded. "I've already sent emissaries. We await their responses." Eryndor stood, pacing his hut. "Shaman Korga's magic, General Gorthok's warriors, and Archer Vexar's marksmen... Together, we can challenge the Western Kingdom." Grimp's eyes shone with excitement, "The tide of power will shift, Chief. The Dark Forest will soon tremble with our united strength." Eryndor had a smile on his face, "When divided, each clan is vulnerable, but together, under one banner, even the elves will think twice before waging a war against us." He then turned to Grimp. "Go and rest my friend, you have done more than I've expected." Eryndor said. Grimp's eyes shone with delight at being called a friend of Eryndor, the clan chief. He placed a his fist on his chest in solemn pledge, "Till the day life departs from me, I shall continue to serve you my Chief." Eryndor dismissed Grimp, his mind racing with strategy. He knew the goblin way: strength ruled, and weakness was exploited. "To unite the clans, I must demonstrate my power," he thought, pacing his hut. A plan formed in his mind. Upon the arrival of the three clan leaders, he would initiate a duel, showcasing his overwhelming strength. Defeating them would solidify his leadership. "A goblin King," he whispered, his ambition burning brighter. "That's merely the beginning." Eryndor's gaze swept across the Dark Forest map etched on the wall. "Next, the orcs, harpies, and every sentient beast will bow to me. United, we'll take down the Elysia Forest elves." His eyes gleamed with determination. "No one will challenge my rule. I'll forge an empire, with the Dark Forest as its foundation." Eryndor's thoughts turned to the upcoming duel. He would need to be cautious, yet decisive. "Shaman Korga's magic, General Gorthok's battle prowess, and Archer Vexar's marksmanship... Each will push me to my limits." A fierce grin spread across his face. "But I will emerge victorious. I must." The sound of approaching goblins echoed outside, signaling the arrival of the clan leaders. Eryndor's heart quickened, anticipation building. "The time for unity has come. Through strength, I'll forge an empire." Before exiting his hut, Eryndor focused inward. "System, I require defensive enhancements and the best armor my points can buy." "Ding! Magic Shield, Aegis of the Ancients for Five hundred points. Full Armor, Opressor's Plate for Eight hundred points, emitting an oppressive aura. Additional effects, Intimidating Presence for Two hundred points and Fearless Aura for three hundred points!" The system confirmed the purchases. Eryndor stepped out of his hut, unarmed and unarmored, a calculated move. Before him stood Shaman Korga, General Gorthok, and Archer Vexar, each accompanied by their respective clan members. The three leaders regarded Eryndor with disdain, their expressions ranging from skepticism to scorn. General Gorthok sneered. "This is the leader who summons us? He looks like a scavenger. Who has ever heard of an elf leading a clan of goblins!?" Shaman Korga's gaze pierced Eryndor. "I sense no remarkable power within him, how did he get these goblins to serve him!?" Archer Vexar snorted. "A pretender, nothing more, that's exactly what he is." Eryndor smiled, relishing the opportunity. "I propose a test of strength," he said, voice even. "A duel. I win, you serve me. I lose, my head is yours. Now, attack me together, at once. Prove your worth." The leaders exchanged surprised glances. General Gorthok snarled. "You think you can take all three of us?" Shaman Korga's eyes flashed. "We'll crush you." Archer Vexar drew his bow. "Let's end this farce. Who does this charlatan thinks he is!?" The three leaders charged, their movements synchronized. Eryndor stood firm, unarmed and unarmored, awaiting their assault. The three clan leaders assaulted Eryndor simultaneously, unleashing a flurry of attacks. Shaman Korga summoned dark energy blasts, General Gorthok swung his massive greataxe, and Archer Vexar fired arrow after arrow. Eryndor dodged and weaved, effortlessly evading each strike. He toyed with them, allowing them to exhaust themselves. With a swift kick, Eryndor sent General Gorthok stumbling back. A fluid motion dispatched Shaman Korga's energy blasts. Archer Vexar's arrows ricocheted off the ground, mere inches from Eryndor's feet. The duel resembled a dance, Eryndor leading the clan leaders in a futile pursuit. Finally, they halted, panting and frustrated. Eryndor smiled. "Enough." With a wave of his hand, a brilliant light enveloped him. The light dissipated, revealing Eryndor clad in the "Opressor's Plate" armor. A majestic red cape flowed behind him, billowing in an unseen wind. The overbearing pressure emanating from Eryndor forced all goblins to kneel. Reverence and fear etched their faces. "A goblin King!" The shaman uttered. "The aura of a Warrior King!" General Gorthok spoke "We were blind, the prophesied Goblin King is here." Even the unaffected followed suit. Shaman Korga, General Gorthok, and Archer Vexar prostrated themselves. "My King!," they chorused. Eryndor's gaze swept across the assembled goblins. "Ding! Congratulations to Host on uniting the goblin clans of the western dark forest." "Ding! Host has been awarded 50,000 goody points." "Ding! Host has unlocked the BOP, Base Of Operation, branch. Base Of Operation, goblin clan, 3,000 goblins." "Rise, my subjects," he declared. "A new era begins." As they stood, Eryndor's voice echoed. "We will unite the Dark Forest, and beyond." His gaze settled on the three clan leaders. "You three will serve as my generals." Shaman Korga, General Gorthok, and Archer Vexar nodded. "Till the day life departs from us, we will serve you, my King!" They echoed. Their loyalty was sealed.
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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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