The night air was thick with the scent of blood and smoke. The village, once bustling with life, had fallen silent except for the occasional whimper from the surviving humans huddled together in fear. Goblins moved through the ruins like shadows, gathering weapons, food, and anything of value.
Leonhart stood at the center of it all, golden eyes scanning the aftermath. His army had grown, but numbers alone wouldn't be enough. If they wanted to survive—if they wanted to truly thrive—they needed order.
He turned to Drog, Gurruk, and the newest hobgoblin, Bruk. The three stood at attention, their forms towering over the smaller goblins.
"We've won a battle, but the war is just beginning." Leonhart's voice was calm, yet it carried across the field. "The humans will come. Stronger ones. And if we're not ready, we'll all die."
The goblins stiffened. Even the dumbest among them understood the danger.
Gurruk cracked his knuckles. "So, we fight more, yes?"
Leonhart nodded. "But not like beasts. Like warriors."
Organizing the Horde
By morning, the goblins had settled into their new home. The village provided shelter, food, and—most importantly—captives. Leonhart watched as some goblins dragged supplies into the largest building, which he had claimed as his headquarters. Others stood guard, mimicking the way human soldiers patrolled a fort.
Progress.
He gathered his three hobgoblins inside the village hall, where a rough map of the surrounding area had been scrawled onto the wooden floor. Using sticks and stones to represent key locations, Leonhart pointed at their current position.
"There are other goblin tribes in the forest. Some weaker, some stronger. We need them."
Bruk frowned. "Kill 'em?"
Leonhart smirked. "Only the ones who refuse to submit."
Drog scratched his chin. "More goblins good. But they stupid. Weak."
"They are," Leonhart agreed. "But we'll make them stronger."
The goblins exchanged glances, curiosity flickering in their dull eyes. Leonhart had already proven himself as more than just a goblin. He fought like a human, thought like a human. If he said he could make them stronger, they believed him.
He stood, looking over his warriors. "We'll start with the nearest tribe. Gurruk, take ten goblins and find them. Offer them a choice: join us or die."
Gurruk grinned, showing his sharp teeth. "Easy."
"Drog," Leonhart continued. "You and Bruk will train the others. No more fighting like animals. We teach them how to fight properly."
Drog gave a satisfied grunt. "Good. They need more muscle."
"And I'll handle the rest," Leonhart said, his eyes shifting toward the prisoners outside.
The Future of the Tribe
Among the captured humans, only a handful of men remained—mostly old or injured. The rest were women and children. Fear shone in their eyes as Leonhart approached.
The village leader, a man with graying hair and a deep cut on his cheek, stepped forward. "What… what do you plan to do with us?"
Leonhart tilted his head. "That depends. Can you work?"
The man hesitated, but nodded. "Y-yes. We can farm, cook—"
"Good," Leonhart cut him off. "Then you live."
The man sagged in relief, but the fear never left his eyes.
One of the women, a young girl barely out of her teens, spoke up. "And what about us?"
Leonhart met her gaze. "You'll help rebuild."
The implication was clear. The goblins needed numbers, and while raiding other tribes would help, breeding was a long-term solution.
One of the goblins snickered, but a single glance from Leonhart silenced him. "We're not savages," he said coldly. "The women who resist won't be forced. But those who cooperate… will be rewarded."
It was a simple rule. Fear alone wouldn't build an empire. There needed to be incentives.
The village leader swallowed hard. "And if we try to run?"
Leonhart's smile didn't reach his eyes. "You won't get far."
One Month Later
Time passed, and the goblin tribe evolved.
The village had been fortified, crude wooden walls surrounding the perimeter. Watchtowers—simple but effective—stood at key points, manned by goblins armed with scavenged bows. Patrols moved through the area, ensuring no one entered or left without permission.
Inside, the once-chaotic goblin horde had transformed into a structured force.
Leonhart's leadership had divided them into ranks:
• Scouts – The fastest goblins, trained to move silently through the forest.
• Warriors – The backbone of the tribe, now wielding proper weapons and shields.
• Hunters – Those tasked with gathering food and tracking enemies.
The three hobgoblins acted as lieutenants, each overseeing different groups. Even the dumbest goblins had learned discipline under their training.
Numbers had also increased. Several smaller goblin tribes had been absorbed, bringing their total to nearly a hundred. With each victory, Leonhart's reputation grew. He was no mere goblin—he was something greater.
And beyond their walls, the world had taken notice.
The Surrounding Threats
The scouts brought information daily, mapping out the world beyond their village.
• To the east lay an orc encampment—large, powerful, and hostile.
• To the south, a tribe of lizardmen watched them with cautious interest.
• To the north, deeper into human territory, knights and mercenaries were gathering.
The state had heard of the village's fall. And they weren't going to let it slide.
One scout reported seeing a group of human soldiers setting up camp near the forest's edge. The humans weren't attacking yet, but it was only a matter of time.
Leonhart listened to the report in silence, then turned to his hobgoblins.
"We have a choice," he said. "Wait for them to come to us… or strike first."
Gurruk grinned. "Kill them before they come."
Drog cracked his knuckles. "Need more strength. More numbers."
Bruk, the quietest of the three, finally spoke. "Or we use them."
Leonhart raised an eyebrow. "Explain."
Bruk hesitated, then gestured at the captured humans. "Trade them. Make deal."
The idea sparked in Leonhart's mind. The humans wouldn't expect goblins to negotiate. If played right, he could delay their attack… or even manipulate them into an advantage.
A slow smirk spread across his lips. "Interesting."
The Dawn of a New Era
Leonhart stood at the highest point in the village, overlooking his growing army.
A month ago, they were nothing. Now, they were an organized force, ready to carve their place into the world.
The kingdom would come. The humans would try to reclaim what was theirs.
But they would find that the goblins were no longer mindless beasts.
They were soldiers.
And he was their king.
With a sharp inhale, Leonhart turned to his warriors.
"Prepare yourselves," he said. "A war is coming."
The goblins roared in response, their voices shaking the very ground beneath them.
The age of monsters had begun.