A full day had passed since the raid, and the scouting mission was complete. Leonhart stood at the entrance of the cave, gazing down at the crude map scratched into the dirt. The village was larger than expected—wooden walls, a proper guard force, and clear trade routes leading in and out.
Not an easy target. Not yet.
He had let his scouts finish their mission before dealing with another problem—the unseen eyes that had been watching them since the raid. He and the hobgoblins had noticed them the night before, but instead of acting immediately, he let them watch, let them think they were safe.
Now, the time had come to spring the trap.
Leonhart's golden eyes flickered as he focused on the presence lurking in the trees. His mana flared, tendrils of invisible energy stretching out like unseen hands. The air around him grew heavier, crackling with power. Then—
A strangled yelp. A goblin fell from the trees, writhing as Leonhart's mana wrapped around its limbs, holding it in place like a snake constricting its prey.
Drog and Gurruk stepped forward, weapons raised, but Leonhart held up a hand.
"Not yet."
The goblin struggled, its beady eyes darting wildly. Unlike the mindless creatures that usually made up his horde, this one carried intelligence in its gaze. It wasn't a stray or a weakling—it belonged to another tribe.
Leonhart knelt before the captive, his sharp nails trailing over the goblin's trembling throat. "You've been watching us for some time." His voice was calm, measured. "Why?"
The goblin bared its teeth but didn't speak.
Leonhart sighed, his grip tightening. "I don't have patience for silence."
A sudden burst of mana pressure forced the goblin's face into the dirt. It wheezed, body twitching under the weight of an unseen force.
"We know," it finally croaked, its voice hoarse. "Your raid… your strength… our chief knows."
Leonhart's eyes narrowed. "And?"
The goblin hesitated, then spat out, "He wants to meet."
Drog growled. "Trap."
Leonhart smirked. "Of course it is."
The captive goblin flinched. It knew. Leonhart could already imagine the setup—a staged meeting, an ambush, an attempt to kill him and claim his growing power for themselves. Standard goblin behavior.
He released his grip, letting the goblin collapse to the ground. "Tell your chief I accept."
Gurruk grunted in surprise. "You go?"
Leonhart chuckled. "Yes." His gaze flickered to the horizon where the village lay. "But not as prey."
His mind was already working, shaping a plan that would ensure his rise continued—whether the rival tribe knew it or not.
⸻
The Meeting
Under the cover of night, Leonhart and his hobgoblins arrived at the designated meeting point—a clearing deep within the forest. The air was thick with the scent of unwashed goblin bodies, a telltale sign that the rival tribe was near.
Leonhart stood tall, his eyes gleaming in the darkness. Across from him, a hulking hobgoblin emerged, flanked by a dozen goblins. Their chief.
The rival chief sneered. "You're the one who raided the humans."
Leonhart remained silent, letting the tension stretch.
The chief's grin widened, revealing jagged teeth. "Impressive. But foolish. You've drawn attention—our attention. That makes you a problem."
Leonhart exhaled, feigning boredom. "If I were weak, I would be."
The chief snarled, stepping forward. "You are."
Leonhart's mana flared. The chief's expression faltered for the briefest moment, but he recovered quickly.
Good. He was at least smart enough to recognize danger.
Leonhart tilted his head. "If you truly thought that, you wouldn't be here talking."
The chief's eye twitched. He knew Leonhart was right.
Leonhart continued, voice smooth. "You don't want a fight. You want to know if I can be controlled. If I'll submit."
The chief bared his teeth. "Goblins follow the strong. That's the way of things."
Leonhart smiled. "Yes. And that's why your tribe will soon follow me."
The goblins around the chief stiffened. Gurruk and Drog tensed, gripping their weapons. The clearing fell silent.
Then—
Laughter. Deep, guttural laughter from the rival chief.
"You've got guts," the chief admitted, shaking his head. "Fine. If you're so certain, prove it." He raised a clawed finger and pointed at a circle of dirt nearby.
A duel.
Leonhart's grin widened. "Gladly."
The night had only just begun.