Chapter 33 - 32

Chapter 33: Chapter 32 The feast carried on deep into the night, until morning. The next day, Lumberling declared a rest day for all. The goblins and kobolds scattered, tending to personal matters or enjoying the rare reprieve. When the crowd dispersed, only Skitz remained at Lumberling’s side. "Up for a spar?" Lumberling asked with a grin. Skitz blinked, surprised, before returning the smile. "Of course, my Lord." They moved to the training grounds. Lumberling took up his spear with practiced ease, his stance sharp and deliberate—a clear reflection of formal training and relentless discipline. Opposite him, Skitz drew his sword with a calm fluidity, his grip firm and confident. Gone was the wild goblin from a year ago. His gaze was steady, his movements economical, his posture radiating the quiet strength of someone who had seen real battle. Scars peeked through his armor—not many, but enough to tell the story. He was no longer just clever—he was hardened. Their eyes met. Then they moved. Lumberling’s spear danced in rapid arcs, jabbing and sweeping with practiced precision. To an outside observer, it might have seemed like Skitz was on the defensive, barely managing to block. But in truth, Skitz was calm, controlled, expertly parrying each strike. Lumberling’s physical strength might rival that of a mid-rank Knight Apprentice, but his actual skills were still at the Knight Page level. Skitz, however, had evolved. Both his strength and technique had surpassed what Lumberling remembered. Suddenly, Skitz vanished. Before Lumberling could react, a flash of movement appeared behind him. A blade swept toward his back, and he barely twisted in time to avoid a deep slash. He turned to counter, but Skitz disappeared again—blinking across the training field faster than the eye could track. Lumberling frowned and dropped low, shifting fully into a defensive stance. His eyes narrowed, tracking shadows and movement with fierce focus. Skitz vanished again. ’There!’ Lumberling’s spear snapped up just in time to parry a sudden strike, the force of the blow rattling through his arms. He slid a half-step back, boots skidding slightly on the dirt. For a heartbeat, he almost lost balance. ’Too fast.’ He gritted his teeth and exhaled sharply, centering himself. Each strike from Skitz came sharper, faster—like testing blades finding chinks in armor. Lumberling’s arms began to burn as he deflected another slash, sweat trailing down his brow. His mind raced, eyes scanning the space for a pattern. He’s blinking out after each hit... ’I need to bait him.’ But until then, he had no choice. He could only weather the storm and wait—for one misstep, one opening. As the exchanges continued, Lumberling slowly began to sense a pattern. He waited patiently, drawing Skitz into a trap. The moment came—he struck, aiming his spear at the space where he knew Skitz would appear. But instead of landing the blow, cold, black chains erupted from the ground and bound his arms. "What—?" He struck the chains with his spear. Once. Twice. On the third strike, they shattered—but it was too late. Skitz’s blade was already at his throat. Silence fell. Lumberling stared at the edge of the sword for a second, then raised his hands in surrender with a broad grin. "You’ve gotten stronger, Skitz. Well played—you win." "Thank you, my Lord." "Was that a new skill?" Lumberling asked, rolling his shoulder with a wince. "Looks like you’ve picked up some flashy tricks." "It’s something I gained after evolving, my Lord," Skitz replied, still catching his breath but standing proud. "Makes sense." Lumberling gave a low chuckle and flexed his fingers, shaking out the tension from his arms. "That chain technique is impressive—it’ll be useful in real battles." "I agree, my Lord," Skitz said with a slight bow. "I would like to request daily spars with you to sharpen my skills." "Already planning to bully me?" Lumberling raised a brow, then smirked. "Of course not, my Lord." Skitz grinned. "Let’s spar every morning." "Deal." Lumberling clapped a hand on his shoulder. "But don’t expect me to go easy next time." "Thank you, my Lord." The two left the training field together, walking shoulder to shoulder. "How’s the mining going?" Lumberling asked. "We’ve expanded the silver mine and doubled our extraction rate by deploying more workers. We also explored nearby areas for new veins, but haven’t found anything significant yet." "Expected. Silver’s enough for now. What about threats nearby? Any monster activity?" Lumberling asked, wiping sweat from his brow as they walked. "No major groups," Skitz replied. "But there have been sightings of orcs far to the north. No exact numbers yet." Lumberling slowed his pace, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Hmm... orcs." He folded his arms, staring off toward the horizon. "Keep an eye on them. They likely won’t move unless provoked—but if they do, we’ll be ready." "And the boar cavalry project?" Lumberling asked next. "We’ve captured and tamed 36 boars so far. Captain Skarn is in charge of training the riders. They’ve shown excellent progress." "I want to see them in action. Have Skarn assemble them for a demonstration tomorrow." "Yes, my Lord." "And your eagle?" "The golden eagle’s mate laid another egg this year. Their three offspring from last year are in training. It will take time, but they’ll soon be added to our scout forces." "Well done." Lumberling nodded. "Any issues while I was gone?" Skitz exhaled, then rubbed the bridge of his nose "A lot. Establishing laws and getting the goblins and kobolds to follow them was a nightmare. Teaching them construction and farming skills... Even worse. I had to personally oversee every project and serve as the trainer myself. All while managing my own training... Getting goblins to stop arguing over rocks like they were sacred artifacts..." Lumberling chuckled. "Rocks, huh?" Skitz trailed off, and for a moment, Lumberling saw just how much weight the goblin had been carrying. He clapped a firm hand on his vice commander’s shoulder. "You did well. I’ll take some of that weight now." Skitz blinked, momentarily surprised by the gesture. Then his eyes blinked with a rare flicker of emotion, and he offered a nod—not the formal kind, but one of genuine appreciation. "Thank you, my Lord," he said quietly. That evening, Lumberling visited Jen and her grandfather. They were still adjusting to life in the monster village, but they were safe and adapting. "We resume training tomorrow," Lumberling told Jen gently. The girl smiled and nodded. With Lumberling beside them, they would be fine. The next morning, Lumberling and Skitz made their way to the cavalry training grounds. There, they found Captain Skarn already drilling his units—thirty-five goblins and kobolds lined up in neat formation. About half wore worn but functional leather armor, while all of them carried long spears. Skarn stood at the center, commanding with firm authority. The boars they rode were an intimidating sight—massive beasts standing 1.5 meters tall and stretching 2.5 meters long. Their thick, corded muscles rippled beneath coarse hides, and their tusks curved like savage scythes. Compared to the wild boars of Lumberling’s previous life, these mounts were monsters in both size and temperament. ’If we could armor them... they’d be fearsome on the battlefield,’ Lumberling thought. But he pushed the idea aside for now—they simply lacked the funds to outfit cavalry beasts in full armor. "My Lord," Skarn greeted as he and Skitz approached. "The cavalry unit is assembled and ready. Awaiting your command." "I want to see them in action," Lumberling said. "Have them run a charge." "As you command, my Lord." Skarn returned to his position, voice rising across the field. "The Lord wishes to see our progress! Cavalry units—charge!" Three tight rows formed instantly. On Skarn’s signal, the boar riders surged forward. The ground thundered beneath their mounts, but the formation held steady. Goblins and kobolds alike moved with practiced synchronicity, their discipline evident in the coordinated rhythm of the charge. As they watched, Skitz stepped beside him. "Skarn taught himself this system," he said. "The front row is composed of the slowest and most obedient boars—they set the pace. If a faster boar leads, it disrupts the formation. This way, the rest can keep rhythm." Lumberling raised a brow. "You didn’t teach him that?" Skitz shook his head. "No, my Lord. He figured it out through trial and error. I think he has a knack for leading beasts." Lumberling nodded with a faint smile. "I think so too." "They’ve grown... far beyond what I’d dared to hope." They continued to the main training yard where the barracks stood. There, Gobo1 and Gobo2 awaited them—both standing tall in their hobgoblin forms. As captains of the hunter corps, they oversaw a total of 80 goblins and kobolds, split evenly between them. Each wore light leather armor—prioritized for hunters due to their frequent engagements. Their teams were responsible for daily hunting, foraging, and exploring the wilderness surrounding the village. Next was Krivex, now leading the scout corps. His group was the smallest—eighteen elite units, including beast tamers and the stealthiest members of the village. Each wore full armor and moved like shadows. Their job was intelligence gathering, border patrol, and long-range reconnaissance. Then came Takkar and Vakk. Takkar led the militia—an emergency response force that supported either the hunters or guards depending on need. Vakk, on the other hand, commanded the village guard: their job was to uphold the law and protect the people. Twenty units served under Takkar, while twenty-five more answered to Vakk. In addition to these forces, thirty goblins and kobolds were assigned to work in the silver mines. The rest—about a hundred—were engaged in farming, construction, infrastructure, and various support tasks within the village. Lumberling watched silently as the various units completed their drills with discipline and coordination. The once chaotic band of monsters had become something else—something greater. Leather-armored hunters moved with efficiency, scout teams melted into the treeline, and the militia stood tall in formation. He stood there for a moment longer, his hands behind his back, gaze sweeping across the grounds. ’They’re not just surviving anymore,’ he thought, a quiet swell of pride rising in his chest. ’They’re growing, adapting. Becoming a real force.’