Chapter 131 - 130: Fangs Beneath Iron

Chapter 131: Chapter 130: Fangs Beneath Iron Goblin Village - Morning The stillness after meditation was broken by the sound of approaching footsteps, deliberate, yet hesitant. Lumberling opened his eyes and found himself surrounded. Krivex stood at the front, flanked by Grokk, Gobo1, Gobo2, and the other captains. "My Lord," Krivex began, rubbing the back of his neck, "we... need a favor." Lumberling raised an eyebrow, brushing dirt off his robes. "What kind of favor?" "With the elves," Krivex clarified. Gobo1 stepped forward, arms crossed. "They don’t listen to us. But they listen to you." "That’s right!" Gobo2 piped up. "It’s like you’re hogging all the charisma aura or something! We talk and they ignore. You talk and suddenly they’re offering fruits and water and training advice." Grokk grunted, which might’ve been agreement, or indigestion. With him, it was hard to tell. Lumberling chuckled. "Alright, alright. What exactly do you want to ask them?" Aren stepped out from the back, spear slung over his shoulder. "A sparring match." The air changed. Lumberling blinked. Then he studied their faces, Krivex’s sharp grin, and Grokk’s clenching fists. He recognized it now. They were itching for it. The elves had awed them from the moment they arrived, graceful, silent, deadly. During the raid on Earl Cedric’s lands, they had watched them blast through knights like wheat. But instead of fear, that spectacle had sparked something else: hunger. Not for blood, but for a challenge. They had been holding back for weeks. Maybe out of discipline. Maybe pride. But now... the dam had cracked. Lumberling gave a slow nod, then turned his gaze across the field. The elves sat beneath the trees meditating, Vaenyra among them, idly stretching her arms in the dappled light. "You heard them," he called out, voice carrying. Elven ears twitched. They had heard every word, of course. Vaenyra smiled faintly, brushing a blue strand of hair behind her ear. "We did." Lumberling saw it in her eyes too, the flicker of anticipation. This wasn’t just a favor anymore. It was a test. And perhaps... a beginning. Then Vaenyra turned, her gaze sweeping over the elves behind her. Her emerald eyes landed on a petite, sharp-featured elf with short black hair tied in a utilitarian knot behind her head. "Elaria," Vaenyra called. "Yes, my lady." Elaria stepped forward immediately, her movements crisp, her posture disciplined. She saluted with one hand over her chest, the heel of her boot snapping together in a practiced gesture. "Would you care for a spar?" Vaenyra asked, voice calm. "If it is your will, then I shall comply," Elaria replied with the unwavering tone of a soldier. No hesitation. No pride. Just pure, loyal resolve. Vaenyra nodded. "No magic. Only Knight techniques." Elaria gave a sharp bow. "Understood." Lumberling narrowed his eyes slightly at that. He’d been observing Elaria from the start, always quiet, always efficient, always radiating a kind of subdued menace. The kind of elf who could kill without a sound. She was no ordinary fighter. A True Knight, Knight One Stage. Among Vaenyra’s ranks, there were only a handful of individuals who had stepped into the True Knights stages. Thessalia and Aurelya were the most notable, but Elaria was the dark horse, less brilliant in spellcraft, but shockingly adept with the blade. A rare anomaly in an empire of mages. Her magic capacity hovered at Magic Circle Two, barely respectable by mage standards. But as a Knight, she surpassed most of her peers. Vaenyra’s squad was no joke. Most of her subordinates were Magic Circle Four mages, on par with Knight One Stage, powerhouses in their own right. Among them, only four were full-fledged Mage-Knights, capable in both paths. Aurelya, her second-in-command, was a dual threat, a Magic Circle Five mage and a Knight One Stage. Thessalia, her third-in-command, wasn’t far behind, a Peak Magic Circle Four mage and a Knight One as well. Lumberling turned toward his captains and said with a crooked grin. "You’re all lining up to gang up on one woman? Try not to embarrass me." Grokk let out a low grunt, clearly excited. "Don’t worry, Boss. We just want to see what we’re made of." Lumberling chuckled, but there was a flicker of truth behind his smile. Aside from Grokk, who was in the Quasi-Knight level, the others, Krivex, Aren, Skarn, and the rest of the captains... were still at mid Knight Apprentice level. Talented, yes, but against a full-fledged True Knight? It would be a slaughter. Still... he understood their intent. This wasn’t about winning. It was about challenging their limits. And whether they knew it or not, Lumberling’s captains were about to be taught what it really meant to stand against a True Knight. ... The sparring ground fell silent. One by one, the captains stepped in, boots thudding against packed dirt, metal glinting in the morning light. Grokk entered last, his towering frame drawing murmurs even from the watching elves. Gobo2 adjusted his shield and sword, puffing out his chest like a knight of legend. Beside him, Skarn twirled his twin axes with a wolfish grin. Grokk, silent as stone, hefted his own brutal twin axes, standing firm in the front line. Behind them, Gobo1 rolled his shoulders and tapped the flat of his sword against his palm. Takkar and Vakk stood close, both gripping their axes tightly, their gazes fixed on Elaria’s every move. Aren spun his spear once, then pointed the tip toward the ground, focused, calm. And in the back, Krivex nocked an arrow loosely onto his bow. Unlike the others clad in steel, he wore tight-fitting red leather armor that hugged his wiry form, built for speed and evasion rather than endurance. From the sidelines, Lumberling stood with his arms crossed, flanked by the vice-captains and several elves. Vaenyra watched, Aurelya leaned on her staff, eyes narrowed with interest. Thessalia didn’t blink. The goblins and kobolds had gathered too, forming a wide semicircle around the sparring field. Their cheers and stomps shook the dirt, chanting the names of their captains like a proper arena crowd. The air buzzed with anticipation. Lumberling chuckled. "Let’s see if heart can bridge the gap in strength." He glanced at Elaria. Calm, poised. Then at his own men, brimming with grit and restless fire. The match was about to begin. ..... Training Grounds - Midday The air trembled with tension as Elaria stepped onto the sparring ground, her boots whispering against the packed earth. Two swords gleamed in her hands, silver arcs of death held with casual poise. Her expression was calm, her posture relaxed, but her golden eyes locked sharply onto the group before her. The captains stared at Elaria. She stood alone. Unmoving. And then the fight began. Grokk roared and charged forward, his twin axes cleaving through the air. Skarn and Gobo2 flanked him immediately, weapons arcing in perfect unison. Elaria didn’t flinch. Her swords remained at her sides. A blur. With a single, fluid step, she vanished from Grokk’s line of attack, reappearing behind him. But Aren was already there. The spear shot forward with explosive speed, aiming straight for her rib. Elaria parried it with a twist of her wrist, deflecting it just wide enough, her blade grazed Aren’s shoulder in retaliation, a shallow strike, but one that stung. Krivex fired. Three arrows in a blink, one to distract, one to cripple, one to kill. Elaria twisted mid-step, a blur of motion as her blades danced. The first two arrows missed. The third was sliced in half. Grokk came back swinging. Hard. He roared and brought his twin axes crashing down. Elaria raised both blades to block, steel rang like thunder. Her arms trembled slightly from the impact. The gnoll grinned, fangs bared. "You felt that, didn’t you?" Elaria’s eyes narrowed. "Interesting..." He pushed forward, blow after blow hammering against her defense. Gobo2 lunged from the left, Skarn from the right. For a moment, she was surrounded. But Elaria spun, blades flashing in a storm of steel. Gobo2 was sent tumbling back, his shield cracked. Skarn barely managed to block, sliding across the dirt from the force. Takkar and Vakk moved in next, two whirlwinds of axes from opposite angles. Elaria ducked under the first swing, sidestepped the second, and lashed out. Vakk caught her blade with the shaft of his axe, but the impact numbed his arm. Takkar retaliated with a howl, slashing horizontally. Elaria parried, kicked him in the chest, and knocked him sprawling. Gobo1 struck from behind, sword aiming for her spine. She twisted, too late to block, but Grokk intercepted, shoving her with one massive shoulder. She skidded back, digging her heels into the earth. Krivex shouted from the rear, giving orders between shots. "Keep pressure on the flanks! Grokk, hold the center! Aren, rotate left!" Aren lunged again, spear spinning. Elaria dodged the thrust, only to find herself met by Grokk’s overhead slash. She crossed her swords to block, grunting as her feet sank into the dirt from the impact. Still, she held. Still, they came. Her eyes glinted with something between admiration and thrill. "These aren’t just brutes," she murmured. Grokk’s chest rose and fell with effort. His armor was dented, arms trembling, but he didn’t fall. He had reached the first stage of Bruteforge Body Cultivation, bones reinforced, muscles tempered. A body far beyond the usual Quasi-Knight. He was still being pushed back. But he held. And he wasn’t alone. The others, too, showed unusual resilience. Even after being struck, knocked down, or battered aside, they rose again. The Bruteforge Cultivation technique coursed through their bodies, making them tougher than expected, durable, relentless. And coordinated. They weren’t fighting like common savages. They weren’t brawling. Every strike had purpose, every movement covered by another. Offense flowed into defense. Mistakes were covered in a breath. They moved like a single organism. The elves watching from the side shifted uneasily. Vaenyra’s brows furrowed. "They’re holding their own." Aurelya nodded slowly, lips pursed. "More than that. They’re reading her." Thessalia folded her arms, eyes narrowed. "This wasn’t supposed to last more than a minute." Lumberling watched his captains stand their ground, bruised and panting, but unbroken. He couldn’t help but smile. "Not bad," he murmured. "Not bad at all."