The night was colder than usual, a creeping chill settling over the goblin camp like a warning. The first traitor had been dealt with—his lifeless body displayed in the center of the settlement for all to see. Blood had darkened the ground beneath him, and a sharp, metallic scent lingered in the air.
Fear spread through the tribe like wildfire.
The message was clear—Leav was no weak leader.
Yet, as he stood over the corpse, he felt neither victory nor satisfaction. He knew this was only the beginning. Power wasn't seized in a single night. It had to be maintained, fortified, tested against those who would defy it. If he wanted to survive, if he wanted to lead, he had to keep pushing forward, tightening his grip before his enemies could recover.
But first, he needed to see how the tribe reacted.
From the shadows, Leav observed as the goblins gathered around the body. The crowd was restless, murmurs spreading like a low, uneasy hum. Some looked away, unwilling to meet the sight of their fallen tribesman. Others watched in silence, weighing their new reality.
Trek stood among them, silent as ever, his sharp eyes flickering with understanding. Tear, the tribe's brutal enforcer, studied the corpse with a grunt of approval.
Then came Yorl, his eyes gleaming with something close to excitement. "Now this is how you handle cowards," he said, his voice thick with satisfaction.
Weal arrived last, looking pale. He nudged the dead goblin lightly with his foot, swallowing hard. "Was… was this really necessary?"
Leav stepped forward, making his presence known. "Yes."
His voice was firm, leaving no room for doubt. The gathered goblins fell silent.
"If we allow betrayal to fester, the tribe will fall into chaos. This was a warning. The rest will think twice before plotting against us."
A few goblins nodded in agreement, but others remained uneasy.
Frot, lounging against a nearby post, smirked as he watched the scene unfold. "Well played, Leav," he said lazily. "But fear alone won't keep them in line forever."
Leav met his gaze without flinching. "That's why we won't rely on fear alone. We give them something else—a future."
Frot raised an eyebrow. "And what kind of future is that?"
Leav turned to the crowd, his voice carrying across the camp. "This tribe has been weak for too long, ruled by fools who knew only brute strength. That ends now. If we want to survive, we need to be smarter, stronger, more united."
Some of the goblins exchanged glances, uncertainty flickering in their expressions. But others—those who had been waiting for something different—nodded in agreement.
Leav clenched his fists. This was his moment.
He had torn down the old ways. Now, he would build something new.
Of course, not everyone could be swayed with words alone. The old chieftain's supporters were still lurking in the shadows, waiting for their moment to strike.
Leav had Frot track their movements. By nightfall, the news had arrived.
"There's a meeting happening tonight," Frot reported, his smirk widening. "A handful of warriors, a few schemers. They're planning something, but I couldn't get the details."
Leav's expression darkened. This was expected.
"Where?"
"Near the eastern hunting grounds," Frot said, crossing his arms. "Outside the camp. They think they're being cautious."
Leav turned to Yorl. "Gather a small group. We're paying them a visit."
Yorl's grin widened. "Finally, some fun."
The eastern hunting grounds were quiet, save for the occasional rustling of leaves in the wind. A small fire flickered in the distance, casting long shadows across the clearing.
Leav crouched in the underbrush, watching the five goblins huddled around the flames. Two of them were loyalists of the former chieftain—die-hard believers in the old ways. The others were warriors, restless and searching for purpose.
Yorl shifted beside Leav, eager for action, but Leav held up a hand. This wasn't about slaughter. It was about control.
He signaled to Weal, who had been honing his stealth skills. The younger goblin slipped through the shadows, circling behind the group. If things went wrong, they would have an escape route.
Then, Leav stepped forward.
The goblins at the fire jolted in alarm, hands darting toward weapons—until they saw who had arrived.
"Leav," one of the loyalists spat. "Come to finish what you started?"
Leav didn't rise to the bait. "I came to talk."
The others exchanged wary glances.
One of the warriors crossed his arms. "Talk? After what you did?"
Leav stepped closer, letting the firelight illuminate his face. "You think you can overthrow me? That you can bring back the old ways? Let me tell you something—those days are gone. The tribe needs strength, but not the kind that leads us to ruin."
The loyalist sneered. "And what kind of strength do you offer?"
Leav's eyes flickered to Yorl, then back to the group. "The kind that wins wars."
The warriors hesitated.
They weren't fanatics—they were fighters, looking for a leader worth following. And Leav had just proven himself stronger than the last one.
One of them spoke up. "What are you offering?"
Leav smirked. Now they were listening.
"Loyalty earns rewards. A stronger tribe means more food, better weapons, and real power. Stand with me, and you'll see it firsthand."
A long silence followed. Then, one by one, the warriors nodded.
Only the two loyalists refused. "We'll never follow you," one growled.
Leav sighed. "Then you leave me no choice."
Before they could react, Yorl lunged.
The blade flashed in the firelight. Blood sprayed across the clearing.
The remaining goblins flinched, but none of them interfered. They understood the message.
Leav turned to them. "You made the right choice."
Then he walked away, leaving the bodies cooling in the dirt.
By dawn, the warriors who had pledged loyalty to Leav stood among his growing ranks.
Trek approached, his expression unreadable. "You dealt with them?"
Leav nodded. "Those who could be reasoned with, yes."
Trek smirked. "And the others?"
Leav met his gaze. "They won't be a problem."
Trek chuckled. "Good. You're learning."
Frot strolled up, clearly amused. "So, what's next, oh wise leader?"
Leav glanced over the camp. The internal threats were being handled—but outside dangers still lurked.
He turned to his group. "We prepare for war."
Yorl's grin widened. "With whom?"
Leav's expression was unreadable. "Whoever stands in our way."
As the sun rose over the camp, the tribe was no longer the same. The weak had been weeded out, and Leav's vision was taking shape.
But power attracts enemies.
And soon, the real battles would begin.