Blood in the Tunnels

A Throne of Blood and Fire

The path to becoming an orc was one of bloodshed.

It was not simply a matter of waiting for evolution to take place—it had to be earned. Dominance had to be proved, not just over the weak, but among the strong. Among the predators. Only the most ruthless could ascend beyond what they were.

And Eliana intended to take what was rightfully hers.

The goblin city was a pit of violence, a warren of stone and filth where only the merciless thrived. The deep tunnels reeked of blood and sweat, filled with creatures who had survived by tearing through others. Here, the law of strength ruled all. If you wanted something, you took it. If you wanted to rise, you crushed whoever stood in your way.

Eliana had already torn through the lower ranks, leaving a trail of battered corpses in her wake. The lesser goblins whispered of her in terrified awe, but it wasn't their fear she needed. It was the hobgoblins—the true rulers of this underground city—who needed to bow.

And one by one, they came for her.

The First Challenger – Korgath the Butcher

The first was Korgath, a hulking brute whose name was carved into goblin history by sheer brutality. He was massive, even for a hobgoblin, with muscles like stone and a voice that made the weak tremble. He had ruled his corner of the city by crushing skulls and tearing through enemies like a beast unleashed.

The moment he heard of the upstart goblin who had been making waves, he laughed—a deep, guttural sound that echoed through the tunnels. He thought her nothing more than another challenger to break beneath his fists.

He would learn his mistake too late.

Eliana stood in the center of the bloodstained arena, the crude torches casting wild, flickering shadows across the stone walls. Korgath loomed before her, a massive axe resting on his shoulder, his scarred face twisted in amusement.

"You think you're strong, runt?" he sneered, rolling his thick neck. "I'll show you real strength."

He charged, the ground shaking beneath his heavy steps. His axe came down like a falling executioner's blade, seeking to cleave her in half.

But Eliana was faster.

She sidestepped, the blade slamming into the stone with a deafening crack. Before he could react, she twisted around him, her claws raking deep across his exposed ribs. He roared, swinging wildly, but she was already gone, a streak of darkness slipping through his reach.

Korgath was powerful. But he was predictable.

Again and again, he swung, his blows carrying enough force to shatter bones—but they never met their mark. Eliana weaved through his attacks like a phantom, striking in precise, merciless bursts. Her claws tore through flesh. Her magic crackled in the air, arcs of energy lashing against him, burning his thick hide.

He stumbled, and that was all she needed.

She lunged. Her claws sank deep into his throat, piercing through muscle and artery. Korgath choked, blood gurgling from his lips as his axe fell from his grasp. His massive frame shuddered before collapsing to the ground with a sickening thud.

The city fell silent.

The goblins and hobgoblins who had gathered to watch the fight now stood frozen, their eyes wide with disbelief. The Butcher was dead. The one they had feared, the one who had ruled his domain with an iron fist, had been felled by her.

The balance of power had shifted.

And the others knew it.

The Gauntlet of Blood

But it wasn't over.

Even as Korgath's body cooled, Eliana could feel it—the weight of dozens of eyes on her, watching, waiting. The other hobgoblins weren't going to let her rise unchallenged. If she was to claim true power, she had to take it.

And she was more than willing.

They came at her in waves.

A pair of twin hobgoblins struck first, their curved blades flashing as they attacked in perfect sync. They moved like assassins, slipping through the shadows with practiced ease. But Eliana had spent weeks fighting in the dark, hunting and killing like a beast. She caught one by the wrist mid-strike, twisting until she heard the sickening pop of bone snapping. The goblin shrieked—just before her claws raked across his throat, silencing him forever.

His brother hesitated for a moment—just a moment—but that was all she needed. She lashed out with a blast of magic, slamming him into the stone wall with such force that his ribs cracked like dry twigs.

And still, more came.

A warlord armed with a jagged cleaver. A brute covered in scars and trophies from past kills. A cunning goblin with poisoned daggers and a cruel smirk.

One by one, they all fell.

Eliana fought like a demon, her movements fluid, instinctive—every strike, every spell cast with deadly precision. Her magic no longer flickered with uncertainty. It roared, bursting forth in torrents of crackling energy, lighting up the tunnels with eerie flashes of power.

Her enemies screamed as she burned them alive.

She danced between them like a phantom, her claws leaving trails of red in their wake. Some tried to flee, only to be pulled back by unseen forces—her magic bending reality itself to ensure none escaped her wrath.

Blood coated her hands. Her body ached, her breath came in ragged gasps—but she could feel it.

The change.

It pulsed within her, deeper than before, stronger. The threshold of evolution.

With every life she claimed, the power within her surged, her muscles tightening, her bones shifting, preparing.

Her vision blurred. Her breath turned hot. Her body trembled—not with exhaustion, but anticipation.

She could feel it coming.

The next step.

The moment the last challenger collapsed at her feet, gurgling on his own blood, silence overtook the city once more.

And then—

A crack.

A shift.

Her body burned.

Eliana staggered, her claws digging into the stone beneath her. Every muscle in her body felt like it was being torn apart and reforged, every nerve alight with fire.

The goblins and hobgoblins who had watched in horror took a step back.

And then—

The first scream tore from her throat.

It wasn't a scream of pain.

It was a scream of power.

A monstrous, primal howl that shook the very walls of the goblin city.

Her flesh rippled. Her bones stretched. Her muscles expanded. Her teeth lengthened into monstrous tusks. Her claws thickened, sharpening into weapons worthy of a true predator.

And when she opened her eyes, they were no longer just burning embers.

They were wildfire.

The goblin city had seen death before. It had seen bloodshed, war, and cruelty beyond words.

But tonight, it had witnessed something far more terrifying.

Tonight, it had seen the birth of a monster.