Chapter 33: Whispers of the Unknown

The scent of burning flesh lingered in the air as Leav and his warriors watched the flames consume the mutated goblin's body. No one spoke. The crackling fire and the occasional shifting of embers were the only sounds that filled the eerie silence.

The battle had been short but intense. Leav had fought many creatures before, but none like this. The mutated goblin had fought with unnatural ferocity, its body twisting and regenerating even after receiving fatal wounds. And yet, in its final moments, before the last strike had severed its life, there had been something in its eyes.

Fear.

Regret.

A flicker of intelligence before its monstrous form crumbled to dust.

Leav's grip tightened around his sword. This wasn't normal. This wasn't how things were supposed to be.

[Leav's POV]

Leav turned to his warriors. Their faces were grim, shadows flickering across their expressions from the firelight. Even Yorl, who normally thrived in battle, was silent.

"This changes things," Leav said, his voice steady despite the unease curling in his stomach. "We can't assume that every enemy we fight is what they seem."

Frot, his second-in-command, crossed his arms. "This isn't goblin magic. We don't have power like this."

Trek, the shaman, stepped forward. His old, wrinkled face was unreadable, but there was something dark in his eyes. "Not natural. Not ours." He exhaled, his voice barely above a whisper. "Dark forces… forbidden magic."

Leav narrowed his eyes. "You've seen this before?"

Trek hesitated. "Not seen. Heard. Whispers. Old stories of things changing, twisting into what they are not." He gestured at the burning corpse. "This is corruption."

That single word sent a ripple of unease through the warriors. Goblins feared many things—monsters, starvation, stronger tribes—but corruption? That was something else entirely.

Leav took a deep breath. "We need more than whispers, Trek. We need to know where this came from."

Trek's gaze drifted toward the dark silhouette of the ruins in the distance. "The ruins."

Silence followed.

Leav clenched his jaw. It made sense. The ruins had been untouched for centuries. Who knew what was hidden inside? The power to twist goblins into monsters could not have come from nowhere.

Frot exhaled sharply. "This is a bad idea, Leav. The ruins are dangerous enough without us poking at whatever cursed magic is in there."

Leav met his gaze. "And if we ignore it? If this spreads?" He pointed at the burning remains. "What happens when this happens to one of us?"

The weight of his words settled over them like a thick fog.

Frot scowled but didn't argue.

Leav looked at each of them. "We prepare. Tomorrow, we return to the ruins."

No one spoke against it. They all knew—this wasn't just another battle. This was something worse.

And they had no choice but to face it.

[Weal's POV]

Later that night, Weal sat away from the others, staring at his poisoned arrows.

The battle had disturbed him in a way he couldn't explain. Not just because the creature had resisted his poison—but because of what he had seen in its eyes before it died.

It had been… aware.

It hadn't just been a mindless beast. It had been a goblin once.

And that meant…

It could have been him.

Weal exhaled slowly, gripping his bow tighter. He had always believed that goblins fought, won, and died. That was the way of things. But this? This was something unnatural.

His poison was meant to kill anything, yet it had barely slowed the creature down.

He needed to be stronger.

If things were changing, he had to be ready.

[Leav's POV]

Leav sat near the fire, sharpening his blade. The rhythmic sound of the whetstone scraping against the metal was comforting, grounding him amidst the storm of thoughts in his mind.

The path ahead was uncertain. He had set out to make his tribe stronger, to build something greater than just another group of goblins fighting for scraps.

But now, something bigger was at play. Forces he didn't understand. Enemies he couldn't see yet.

And if the ruins held answers, then he would claim them.

He glanced at his status.

Name: LeavRace: Goblin TacticianLevel: 7Experience: 480/700Attributes:

Strength: 14

Agility: 16

Intelligence: 18

Endurance: 15

Perception: 13

Skills:

Command (Rank 2): Increases effectiveness of leading small groups.

Tactical Insight (Rank 2): Improves battle strategy formulation.

Swordsmanship (Rank 2): Increased proficiency with bladed weapons.

Evasion (Rank 1): Improved ability to dodge attacks.

His experience was growing steadily, but it would take more battles before he reached the next threshold. He needed to push further.

His thoughts drifted toward evolution. The next step beyond a Goblin Tactician. What would it be?

The last evolution had changed him significantly, sharpening his mind, making him faster, smarter. But he wouldn't evolve again until he had truly mastered what he was now.

That was something he was certain of.

For now, his goal was clear.

The ruins held something dangerous. And if they didn't uncover its secrets, then something worse might be waiting for them in the dark.

Leav sheathed his sword and stood up. Tomorrow, they would return.

And this time, they would not leave until they had answers.