Signs of the Tribe

Morning arrives with a quiet hum, the first light creeping over the treetops, casting long golden beams across my territory. My goblin scout is still at the perimeter, bow in hand, watching the forest with sharp, alert eyes. My two workers continue gathering resources without complaint, their routine as steady as the system's ticking numbers in my mind.

I grip my spear and roll my shoulders, feeling the weight of responsibility settle in. Yesterday, I had nothing. Now, I have a growing force, a Guardian protecting my land, and my first real problem—a goblin tribe that might see me as a threat.

I glance at my system screen.

Current Gold: 340

Passive Income: 20 Gold per Minute

Still not quite enough for another Guardian, but I'll hit 400 gold in just three minutes. I could afford a unit upgrade or push for another worker, but a second Guardian might be the safest choice.

The wind shifts slightly, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and something else—smoke.

I freeze.

Smoke means fire. Fire means people.

My goblin scout stiffens at the same moment I catch the scent. It raises its nose slightly, sniffing at the air before turning to me. Its expression is tight, serious.

"Camp."

My grip on my spear tightens. "How close?"

The goblin hesitates, considering, then lifts three fingers.

Three miles.

Not far at all.

That means the tribe isn't just wandering through these woods—they have a settlement. A base. A place where more goblins are living.

I exhale slowly. This complicates things.

The scout watches me carefully, waiting for my reaction. I weigh my options.

If the tribe has a camp, it's structured enough to have leaders, rules, and likely warriors. That means they won't just attack me without reason—unless they see me as a threat or a target.

I could send the scout back to gather more information, but that risks them realizing he's missing.

Or…

I could go myself.

It's a risk. But right now, information is more valuable than anything.

I check my gold again.

Current Gold: 400

I don't hesitate. I immediately recruit another Guardian.

[400 Gold Deducted – Summoning Guardian Unit…]

The system pulses, the ground glowing as another massive armored figure begins to take shape. My first Guardian shifts slightly, as if acknowledging the presence of its new counterpart.

A second towering warrior steps forward, armor dark and shimmering with faint, ethereal energy. Its sword is just as massive, its glowing eyes burning with silent authority.

[Second Guardian Acquired]

I feel a little more secure now.

If anything goes wrong, my territory will be protected.

I turn back to my goblin scout. "Take me there."

The goblin hesitates, frowning. It clearly wasn't expecting me to go personally.

I shake my head. "Not close enough to be seen. Just close enough to learn."

After a moment, it nods.

We move quickly, slipping into the dense undergrowth, the scout leading with quiet, practiced steps. It's clear this is its element—it moves through the woods like a ghost, making no sound as it weaves between trees. I do my best to mirror its movements, keeping my spear low, my breathing steady.

The deeper we go, the more the scent of smoke and cooked meat thickens in the air.

We stop at a ridge, just beyond a dense patch of brush. The goblin scout lowers itself, motioning for me to do the same. I crouch beside it, peering over the edge.

Below us, nestled in a natural clearing, is the camp.

Dozens of small huts made from wood and animal hides form a rough semi-circle around a large, central bonfire. More goblins than I expected move between them—at least fifty, maybe more.

Some are armored, carrying spears and crude weapons. Others are unarmed, clearly workers or gatherers. The fire at the center crackles, roasting something that looks vaguely like a boar.

But it's the figures near the fire that catch my attention.

A group of larger goblins sits around it, speaking in hushed, guttural tones. Their armor is better—actual metal plating, not just scraps. One of them carries a long, curved blade, and his posture is different from the others.

More controlled. More dangerous.

I don't need my system to tell me who he is.

The leader.

My scout watches me carefully, waiting for my decision.

I study the camp for a few more moments, taking in the details.

The goblins are organized, but not an overwhelming force. If I expand my forces, I could match them in numbers soon.

But do I want war?

I could try to make contact, show them I'm not a threat—yet. If I handle it right, I could recruit more of them, turn them into my workforce.

But if they see me as weak?

They'll attack.

I exhale slowly and gesture for the scout to retreat. We move silently back toward my territory, slipping through the trees until the scent of smoke fades behind us.

Once we reach the clearing of my land, I straighten and turn back toward the goblin scout. "Tell me the truth," I say. "If I show myself, what will they do?"

The goblin frowns, considering. Then it taps its chest. "Test."

I narrow my eyes. "Test how?"

The goblin lifts a single finger, then draws it across its own throat.

A duel.

I inhale deeply. Of course. Goblin tribes value strength. They don't just accept outsiders—they test them.

I have a choice.

I can expand my army, prepare for an attack, and strike first.

Or…

I can walk into that camp and fight.

If I win, I might gain allies. If I lose, I die.

I glance back at my growing settlement. My Guardians stand watch, my workers continue gathering, and my gold continues to rise.

If I go in, I need to be sure.

I look back at the goblin scout, my decision forming. "Tell me everything about their leader."

If I have to fight, I'm going to win.