Chapter 25: Embers of Dominion

[Leav POV]

The aftermath of battle always held a strange kind of stillness, like the world itself was catching its breath. The air was thick with the metallic tang of blood, bodies lay strewn across the ruined battlefield, and the distant howls of scavengers echoed through the night.

Leav stood at the center of it all, his muscles aching but his mind sharper than ever. His warriors had fought fiercely, but they had suffered losses. Some goblins lay among the dead, their expressions frozen in defiance.

Tear approached him, his face set in a grim scowl. "We lost fifteen. Wounded—twenty more. Most will recover." He folded his arms. "But the Bonefangs are broken. Their chieftain is dead, and the survivors scattered."

Leav nodded, but his mind was already elsewhere. This battle had been proof of something he had always known deep down—goblins alone were not enough. They were fierce, but disorganized. Strong, but lacking purpose.

He needed to change that.

"You're quiet," Frot said, stepping beside him. His usual smirk was missing, replaced by a calculating look. "That's dangerous."

Leav turned his gaze to the remnants of the Bonefangs' camp. "This was just one warband," he muttered. "There will be more. More tribes, more enemies, stronger threats. We won't survive by just fighting."

Frot tilted his head. "Then what do you propose?"

Leav exhaled slowly. He had always focused on the next fight, the next challenge. But now, something deeper stirred in him. A vision.

"We unite," he said finally. "Not just a tribe. A force. A kingdom. An empire."

Frot blinked. Then he let out a sharp laugh. "An empire? You're ambitious, I'll give you that."

Leav ignored him. His mind was racing with ideas. The battle had shown him what was possible. If he could take these wild, scattered goblins and forge them into something greater, then perhaps he could go beyond just survival.

"Think about it," he continued. "We already have discipline. Training. Strategy. If we bring in other tribes, not as conquered slaves but as warriors with purpose, we could be more than just raiders lurking in the shadows."

Tear listened silently before speaking. "You'd need more than goblins. You'd need strength. Allies beyond the forest."

Leav nodded. "Then we find them. The Bonefangs are proof that staying small is death. I won't let that happen."

A flicker of something crossed Tear's expression—respect.

Frot sighed, rubbing the back of his head. "Fine. I'll humor you. But let's start small, yeah? No need to crown yourself emperor just yet."

Leav allowed himself a smirk.

"Not yet," he agreed. "But soon."

[Weal POV]

Weal crouched near the wounded, carefully applying a thick, dark paste to a goblin's gash. The warrior winced but didn't complain.

"This will sting," Weal muttered, pressing the herb mixture deeper into the wound.

The goblin gritted his teeth as the mixture burned against his skin, but after a few moments, the pain dulled.

Weal straightened, glancing at the battlefield. It was a mess of blood and bodies, but one thing stood out—magic. It was faint, barely noticeable, but he could feel it.

The Bonefangs' shaman had wielded something beyond simple tricks. His fire had burned unnaturally bright, and the way the enemy warriors fought had been... unnatural. Enhanced.

He had spent enough time experimenting with poisons and strange herbs to know that something deeper was at play.

He needed to know more.

He found Leav standing with Frot and Tear, deep in discussion. Weal stepped forward.

"We need to talk," he said.

Leav turned. "What is it?"

Weal hesitated before saying, "Magic."

Leav's expression darkened slightly. "Go on."

"The Bonefangs' shaman used something real. Not just tricks or potions—something deeper. If we ignore it, we'll be at a disadvantage."

Frot sighed. "And here I was hoping you'd say something less... concerning."

Leav, however, didn't dismiss it. "Can you figure it out?"

Weal crossed his arms. "Not alone. But I have ideas."

Leav nodded. "Then start working on it. I don't want to be caught off guard the next time we face something unnatural."

Weal smirked. "Good. Because I think we're just scratching the surface."

[Trek POV]

Trek sat near the remnants of the Bonefang camp, sifting through the scattered belongings of the fallen shaman. Unlike the others, he wasn't a warrior—he was a scholar, an observer. And what he had observed disturbed him.

He pulled out a bone-carved pendant, its edges glowing faintly. He could feel the power in it, a whisper of something old.

Magic.

The word alone sent a shiver down his spine. Goblins didn't use magic. At least, not in the way humans or elves did. They feared it, respected it, but never wielded it.

But why?

Trek turned the pendant in his hands, his mind spinning. If they could learn this power—control it—then Leav's vision of an empire wasn't just a dream. It was a real possibility.

He needed to dig deeper.

[Leav POV]

Night had fallen, and the tribe gathered around the central fire. There was no cheering, no wild celebrations—only quiet determination.

Leav looked at them and saw something he had never seen before.

Loyalty.

Not just fear, not just survival. Real, true loyalty.

He exhaled. "We won this battle. But it was just the beginning," he said. "The world out there is vast. We are not the only ones fighting to survive. But we will be the ones who rise."

Murmurs of agreement spread through the tribe.

"We will train harder," he continued. "Grow stronger. Learn everything we can."

He locked eyes with each of his key warriors—Tear, Frot, Yorl, Weal, Trek.

"We will not remain mere goblins lurking in the shadows. We will become something greater. And one day..."

He let his voice drop, letting the weight of his words settle over them.

"...we will stand above all."

Silence. Then, one by one, fists pounded against chests in agreement.

The first embers of an empire had been lit.

And Leav would be the one to fan them into a roaring flame.