Leonhart stood before Sshorak, the towering lizardman chieftain, as the humid air of the marshland settled between them. Around them, the gathered warriors of both sides—goblins, hobgoblins, and lizardmen—waited in silence.
"You ask for an alliance, but words are hollow," Sshorak rumbled, his voice like distant thunder. "We are warriors, and warriors know truth through battle. Prove your worth, or there is no alliance."
Leonhart's golden eyes narrowed. "You want me to fight?"
Sshorak raised his clawed hand and gestured to a massive lizardman warrior, nearly twice the size of a hobgoblin. His scales were jagged with scars, his muscles thick from years of battle. He carried a massive curved blade, etched with tribal markings.
"This is Rasska, my strongest warrior. If you wish to stand among us as an equal, you will fight him."
Leonhart smirked. "And if I refuse?"
Sshorak's eyes gleamed with challenge. "Then you have no place beside us. Strength is law."
Leonhart folded his arms. "A test of strength makes sense, but this is hardly fair. I am a leader, not just a warrior. My strength lies in how I command my people." He glanced at his lieutenants before stepping back. "I won't fight. But my warrior will."
A murmur spread through the lizardmen. Some scoffed, others hissed in amusement.
"Cowardice," one muttered.
Sshorak frowned. "You would send another in your place?"
Leonhart's smirk deepened. "Not just any goblin. Drog."
Drog, the hulking hobgoblin, grinned as he stepped forward, rolling his massive shoulders. "Been a while since I cracked some bones."
The Duel Challenge
The arena was drawn, a circle of warriors forming a makeshift battleground. Rasska unsheathed his blade, its edge gleaming in the sun. Drog simply cracked his knuckles and grinned.
Sshorak raised a clawed hand. "Begin!"
Rasska lunged first, moving faster than his size should allow. His blade came down in an arc meant to cleave Drog in two. But the hobgoblin sidestepped, the wind of the swing ruffling his hair.
"Fast," Drog admitted. "But I've fought faster."
He countered with a brutal uppercut, his fist slamming into Rasska's scaled chin. The lizardman staggered, but barely. He retaliated with a tail sweep that caught Drog's leg, sending him crashing to the ground.
"Drog!" Neil barked from the sidelines.
Drog coughed, rolling back to his feet. "That all you got?" He smirked, wiping blood from his lips. "Let's make this fun."
The fight raged on, the two warriors exchanging blow after blow. Drog, despite his brute strength, was forced on the defensive, dodging heavy strikes. Rasska was relentless, his attacks carrying the weight of a beast that had crushed countless foes.
Then Drog changed his approach.
The next time Rasska swung, Drog ducked low, letting the blade sail over him. He surged forward, driving his shoulder into the lizardman's chest and tackling him to the ground. Before Rasska could react, Drog's massive fist crashed into his face. Once. Twice.
Rasska groaned, but he did not rise.
Drog panted, wiping sweat from his brow. "You're strong, scaly. But I'm stronger."
Sshorak studied the fallen warrior, then looked to Leonhart. "You did not fight, but your warrior is strong. Your choice was… wise."
Leonhart smirked. "Then we have an agreement?"
Sshorak nodded. "The lizardmen stand with you. We fight as one."
The Human Countermove
As the alliance was being finalized, a scout ran into the gathering, his face pale. "Lord Leonhart! Humans—three of them. They move differently than the others. We lost one scout trying to follow them."
Leonhart's amusement faded. "Describe them."
"Knights, but… wrong. Their presence feels unnatural. And one of them used mana."
Leonhart's expression darkened. "Mana? Are you certain?"
The scout nodded. "I saw it myself. One of them destroyed a tree in a single strike."
A hush fell over the group.
Sshorak's tail flicked. "These humans are different. They are dangerous."
Leonhart's mind raced. Regular knights were already a problem, but humans who could wield mana? That changed everything. "Where were they last seen?"
"Two miles from here. Heading straight for our village."
Leonhart exhaled slowly, then turned to his warriors. "Get ready. We're about to meet our true enemy."
As the goblin village prepared, the three knights walked with a slow, deliberate pace. One stopped at the edge of a clearing and turned to his companions.
"The goblins have grown bolder," he murmured, his voice unnervingly calm.
Another knight, clad in deep black armor, scoffed. "It won't matter. We have our orders. Wipe them out."
The third knight, whose golden eyes glowed with unnatural energy, removed his helmet. His face was eerily perfect, his smile cold. "No," he whispered. "We don't just kill them. We make an example of them."
With a flick of his wrist, a shimmering sigil of mana formed in the air.
The hunt had begun.