"My Lord, I believe the kobolds may have discovered us."
"The kobolds? What do you mean?"
"I've known them for a while. They know about us, too—we just never clashed because our numbers were similar. An all-out fight would've meant mutual destruction. But now… I feel like they're watching. They've probably figured out our situation."
Lumberling trusted Skitz's instincts. As the former leader of the tribe, his judgment held weight.
"With more than a hundred of them, they might decide to attack at any moment."
"Then we're in trouble. What do you suggest we do?"
"They know nothing about you, Lord. We should strike first—catch them off guard and reduce their numbers."
"I was thinking the same. Tell me everything you know about them. Don't leave out a single detail."
Skitz nodded. "The kobolds were here before us. They never provoked us because they knew my strength. But once, I saw their leader during a hunt. I suspect he's stronger than me. They also have two evolved ones among them."
"We'll assume their leader is mid-Knight Page level, with two evolved elites and a hundred fighters. It'll be a tough battle. Start preparing the goblins. And ready your Detonation Seals."
"Yes, my Lord."
Lumberling weighed the risk. He didn't want the group he'd nurtured to perish. They could flee and relocate—but he chose to fight. He'd always intended to absorb the kobolds into his ranks. Originally, he'd planned to wait until the goblins were stronger. But circumstances demanded action now.
Name: Lumberling
Race: Human
Age: 18
Level: 4
Essence: (2114 / 3500)
Power: 800
Knight Stage: Unranked
Active Skills:
Beginner Sprint Lv0 (828 / 1000)
(Grants a burst of lightning-fast speed. Consumes a large amount of stamina.)
Passive Skills:
Essence Devour
(Automatically devours the essence of those you kill. Absorbs a portion of their special experiences and memories.)
Beginner Spearmanship Lv2 (655 / 1000)
Beginner Swordsmanship Lv2 (0 / 1000)
Beginner Bowmanship Lv0 (358 / 1000)
Beginner Shieldmanship Lv0 (259 / 1000)
Beginner Cudgel Fighting Lv0 (84 / 1000)
Beginner Concealment Lv0 (938 / 1000)
'Just a bit more until I level up... but I'm approaching my limit. And there's still so much to do.'
A Week Later.
The goblins crouched in the undergrowth, their breaths misting in the cold dawn air. Skitz knelt beside Lumberling, his eyes scanning the forested slope below. Gobo 1 and Gobo 2 whispered quietly behind them, a little too loudly.
"If Gobo 2 swings again like last time, I'm not dragging his body back," Gobo 1 muttered.
"You won't have to," Gobo 2 grunted. "This time, I aim higher."
"Quiet," Skitz hissed. "Eyes sharp. Lord's giving the signal."
Lumberling nodded, satisfied. The goblins weren't perfect soldiers—but they were loyal, disciplined, and growing sharper by the day. Skitz had trained them well.
"Stick to the plan," Lumberling said softly. "Skitz, circle west with the twins. Wait for my signal. No kills unless necessary. We draw them in first."
Skitz gave a nod, his grin betraying excitement. "Understood, my Lord. Let's bleed them smart."
Lumberling slipped down the slope, boots brushing fallen leaves. The air smelled of wet stone and moss. Just ahead, kobolds patrolled the mountain path—fifteen of them, lightly armored and unaware of the storm to come.
He drew an arrow, inhaled slowly, and loosed.
Thwip.
A kobold collapsed before it could scream. Another arrow flew—then another. Three fell in rapid succession. Lumberling charged, spear flashing like lightning.
The kobolds reeled in shock as he cut through their ranks. He struck with lethal precision, exploiting openings, sidestepping wild slashes. Within moments, only bodies remained, scattered and still.
(You have devoured the kobold's essence, 3 essence absorbed. Absorbing a portion of the kobold's memories and experiences)
He dragged the corpses away from the entrance of the mountain cave, covering blood trails with leaves. He then vanished into the underbrush, hidden but watchful.
Hours passed.
From the cave, another patrol emerged—thirty-two kobolds, led by a towering elite with jagged armor and eyes like black coals. They followed the scent of their fallen, muttering guttural curses. Lumberling waited until they were deep into the forest before striking.
The first to die didn't even scream. The elite turned, roaring, just in time to meet Lumberling's spear through its chest.
(You have devoured the Elite Kobold's essence, 30 essence absorbed. Absorbing a portion of the Elite Kobold's memories and experiences)
Chaos erupted.
Lumberling danced between kobolds, slaughtering without hesitation. When they fled, he pursued—cold, relentless. His limbs screamed in protest, but he didn't slow.
When the last kobold dropped, Lumberling exhaled deeply and returned to the cave's edge.
But this time, more than scouts emerged.
A flood of kobolds—over sixty strong—poured from the cave, led by three elites and a towering creature draped in scale and muscle. It was the Kobold King. He stood nearly 1.5 meters tall, thick-scaled, wielding twin battleaxes. His eyes locked onto Lumberling's like burning coals.
Lumberling fired an arrow—fast as thought. The king caught it mid-air.
"Shit," Lumberling muttered.
He hurled a small black orb into the midst of the kobolds.
Boom!
Flames and shrapnel tore through the front line. Lumberling sprinted away as the Kobold King roared, axes drawn, giving chase.
The beast was fast—unnaturally fast. It closed the distance in seconds, and Lumberling had no choice.
He activated his Sprint.
Time bent.
He darted around trees and boulders, drawing the king further from its ranks. Then, without warning, Lumberling veered sharply and doubled back toward the group. As he ran, he tossed a second explosive orb.
Boom!
Another cluster of kobolds fell screaming.
Arrows began to fly, but Lumberling vaulted behind a thick trunk and vanished into shadow. The king slowed, regrouping with his troops—but it was too late.
The forest exploded with fury.
From the cliff above, Skitz's trap sprang. Boulders and logs crashed down, crushing kobolds. Then came more explosions, followed by a volley of poisoned darts.
Skitz and the goblins struck from three sides, cutting through disoriented survivors. Gobo 2 let out a whoop.
"Now that's how you make an entrance!"
"Focus!" Skitz barked. "Take down the elites!"
The battle fractured into chaotic skirmishes. Lumberling emerged from the flank and locked eyes with the Kobold King again.
"Come on, then," he growled, lifting his spear.
The king charged.
Their weapons clashed in a shock of sparks and steel. Lumberling barely blocked the twin axes. The sheer weight of each blow sent tremors through his arms. The king's technique was brutal, wild—but efficient. For every parried strike, Lumberling was forced to retreat a step.
"You're good," Lumberling admitted. "But not good enough."
He baited an overhead strike, then rolled beneath the swing and stabbed—his spear grazed the king's thigh. Blood. The beast howled.
They exchanged blows—clean hits on both sides. Lumberling took a gash to the ribs; the king, a stab to the shoulder. Both were breathing hard, muscles trembling.
Lumberling gritted his teeth. He was stronger, faster—but his skill was lagging. The king's technique was vicious and honed by experience.
He needed to finish this. Now.
As the king raised both axes for a crushing double strike, Lumberling lunged inside the arc, accepting a shallow cut across his back in exchange for planting his spear deep into the king's chest. They collapsed together, but Lumberling rolled first, recovered, and pressed the spearhead to the king's throat.
Blood pooled. The king gasped.
Lumberling panted, drenched in sweat. "Surrender, and I'll let you live."
Skitz approached, bruised and bloodied, dragging a battered elite kobold behind him. "He says—'Kill me. I serve no one.'"
Lumberling's jaw tightened. "Pity."
He raised the spear and ended it.
(You have devoured the Kobold Berserker's essence, 75 essence absorbed. Absorbing a portion of the Kobold Berserker's memories and experiences)
(Passive Skill, Beginner Dual wielding axe Lv0 has been learned)
He lifted the king's severed head high. The battlefield had gone silent. The remaining kobolds—bloodied and kneeling—watched with wide, fearful eyes.
"Those who want to live," Lumberling roared, "swear loyalty now—or join your king."
Skitz translated. A kobold hissed. Another growled.
Lumberling didn't hesitate—he beheaded the first that resisted.
(You have devoured the kobold's essence...)
Silence again.
Then a sob broke from the surviving elite—Takkar. He trembled violently, then bowed his head low to the ground.
"I pledge," he rasped in broken speech. "Let kobold live. Kobold serve."
Skitz nodded. "He means it."
Lumberling tossed the black iron collar at Takkar's feet. "Wear it, and smear your blood. Say it: 'I want to be Lumberling's slave.'"
Takkar obeyed, trembling.
"I want... to be... Lumberling's slave."
Dark smoke emerged, binding the collar to Lumberling. And a prompt rang in his head.
(Slave: Takkar – Elite Kobold)
Lumberling exhaled, eyes hard.
"Good. You're the new leader of what's left. Take us to your den. Your people have a future now—but only if they serve it."
Takkar bowed again, eyes shining with something new: fear, yes—but also awe.
Skitz gave a sharp whistle. The goblins regrouped, injured but victorious. Gobo 1 limped beside Gobo 2.
"You owe me," Gobo 1 muttered. "That one almost gutted me."
"Still alive, aren't you?" Gobo 2 grinned. "Call it even."
Lumberling looked over them all—bloody, battered, but alive.
The tribe was growing.
And war was just beginning.