The murky swamp was alive with the sounds of the night—croaking frogs, chirping insects, and the occasional splash of something unseen beneath the dark waters. Leonhart stood at the edge of the lizardmen's encampment, his monstrous form blending into the shadows of the trees. The air was thick with anticipation. Tonight, they would make their first move.
Bruk approached, his keen eyes scanning the area. "Scouts report that the humans are advancing. A detachment of knights and foot soldiers. They'll be within range soon."
Leonhart nodded. "And our forces?"
"Positioned and ready," Bruk replied. "The lizardmen are submerged, waiting to strike from below. Drog is leading the diversion to lure the humans into the kill zone. Gurruk… well, he refuses to sit this one out."
Leonhart turned to see Gurruk tightening the straps on his crude armor. The goblin warrior's wounds had yet to fully heal, but his eyes burned with fierce determination.
"I can still fight," Gurruk grunted, meeting Leonhart's gaze. "I won't be left behind."
Leonhart studied him for a moment before nodding. "Then make sure you survive. We'll need you for what's coming next."
A sharp whistle echoed through the trees—the signal. Drog had engaged the enemy.
"Move," Leonhart commanded, and the night erupted into chaos.
⸻
Drog's diversion worked perfectly. He and a handful of goblins had set fire to a portion of the swamp, sending plumes of thick smoke into the air. The humans, thinking they had caught their prey, charged forward, their heavy armor slowing them as they waded through the wet terrain.
A knight bellowed, "Push through! We have them!"
Then the lizardmen struck.
Silent and unseen, they surged up from the murky depths, dragging unsuspecting soldiers beneath the water. Muffled screams and frantic splashing filled the air. Blades flashed, but it was difficult to fight an enemy that moved like ghosts in their own domain.
From above, Leonhart and Bruk led the goblins in an aerial assault, descending from the trees onto the disoriented knights. Bruk's daggers found gaps in armor, while Leonhart used his monstrous strength to tear through the enemy ranks.
A knight swung his sword at Leonhart's head, but he caught the blade mid-strike, his claws digging into the metal. With a guttural snarl, he wrenched the weapon away and crushed the knight's skull with his bare hands.
Nearby, Drog and Gurruk fought back to back, covering each other's flanks. A soldier lunged at Gurruk, underestimating the wounded goblin, only for Gurruk to sidestep and drive his blade into the man's exposed throat.
"Still think I should've sat this one out?" Gurruk panted, grinning through the blood splattered across his face.
Drog laughed. "I'd never be that stupid."
The human forces, realizing they were being overwhelmed, began to retreat, but Leonhart had no intention of letting them escape.
"No survivors!" he roared. "We end this here!"
Bruk, Drog, and Gurruk echoed the order, and their warriors surged forward with renewed ferocity. The last of the humans were cut down before they could flee.
⸻
As dawn broke, the battlefield was silent save for the cawing of carrion birds. The corpses of knights and foot soldiers littered the swamp, their once-proud banners now soaked in blood and mud.
Sshorak approached Leonhart, his scaled features unreadable. "You fight well. Your kind might call this a victory."
Leonhart met his gaze. "And what do you call it?"
Sshorak's tail flicked. "The beginning of war."
From the edge of the battlefield, a lone human was dragged forward—one of the knights, barely clinging to life. Leonhart knelt before him, his glowing eyes cold and unreadable.
"Your forces were tracking us. Why?"
The knight coughed, spitting blood. "You… think this is over?" He let out a weak laugh. "More will come. A larger force… within the month. You're nothing but beasts delaying the inevitable."
Leonhart's claws twitched, but he remained composed. "Then we'll be ready."
With a swift motion, he ended the knight's life.
⸻
Standing atop a small hill, Leonhart surveyed the battlefield. His warriors had fought well, but this was just the first step. They needed more. More soldiers. More resources. More power.
His gaze turned to the horizon.
"The orcs," he murmured. "If we are to stand against the empire, we need them."
Bruk, Drog, and Gurruk stood beside him, awaiting his command.
Leonhart clenched his clawed fists. "Prepare to march. We go to the orcs."
The end of Chapter 26.