Days later…
César had not continued his constant training.
An unusual silence had settled over the village of Canromia.
But everyone knew it well:
that silence did not mean peace.
It was the herald of the coming storm.
César remained seated, legs crossed, meditating as he processed the information brought by the scouts… and what he had seen with his own eyes.
The river was life.
He understood it the moment he saw it from the hill: wide, steady, carrying mana diluted within its current. Not as pure as the vein… but enough to sustain growth, rudimentary agriculture, and expansion.
More than enough.
Suddenly, he opened his eyes.
Pure determination.
He rose to his feet and called for a group of goblins, ordering them to gather his family.
The time had come.
…
The river did not roar.
Its waters flowed with deceptive calm, as if the world itself were holding its breath. The current reflected the gray sky, fractured by heavy clouds, and upon its surface drifted leaves, branches… and omens.
César stood on the elevated bank, hands clasped behind his back. Around him, the goblins murmured quietly, restrained. No one laughed. No one argued.
All of them understood that this was no ordinary day.
It was the day the empire would decide whether it advanced…
or withered away.
'A river is not just water,' he thought.
'It is life, border, and road. Whoever controls it dictates the fate of the land it touches.'
They had grown too fast.
The initial huts had become sturdy structures. Births were increasing. Mana crops demanded constant irrigation. The beasts consumed more than the streams could provide.
The empire—still without a formal name—had reached its first true limit.
And that limit had the shape of a river.
"Here," César finally said, pointing at the current, "the future begins… or everything we have built ends."
No one answered.
There was no need.
The Vanguard descended first, simple weapons in hand, advancing through reeds and mud. The Fangs spread out along the flanks. The Core Guard remained behind, protecting Luna and Asia as they began studying the terrain.
Then the water moved.
A wet sound.
A bubbling stir.
The first scream came too late.
A blue figure burst from the river, scales glinting beneath the gray light, curved claws sinking into the flesh of the goblin at the front. Suckers latched onto his arm and dragged him into the water.
"Contact!" one of the Fangs roared.
The river exploded into motion.
Anthropomorphic creatures emerged by the dozens: dark blue skin, lean but sinewy bodies, lateral fins on their heads vibrating as they moved. Their large black eyes held no fear.
Murlocs.
They attacked in waves, from water and shore alike, using the terrain as a weapon. Claws slashed. Suckers immobilized. Teeth tore flesh.
"Formation!" César ordered from the rear.
The aura responded.
The Vanguard endured the first clash, bodies reinforced by that rough, violent power. One fell into the water… another took his place without hesitation. The Fangs charged, forcing the murlocs out of the river and into open ground.
The fight was filthy.
The murlocs were fast, coordinated. They retreated into the water, reappeared elsewhere, struck from behind. Three goblins fell. Two never surfaced again.
Then César advanced.
He wore no armor.
Only his sword… and refined mana flowing with cold control.
The murloc leader emerged before him: larger, darker scales, adorned with shells and bones. He wielded a spear of hardened coral.
They locked eyes.
The clash was instant.
The spear cut through the air. César deflected it with minimal mana reinforcement—just enough to twist its trajectory without wasting energy. He countered with a clean slash that split scales, not flesh.
The leader staggered back, surprised.
César gave him no room to breathe.
Every step was calculated. Every use of mana precise. Not overwhelming… dominant. The soldiers' aura kept the others at bay while he forced the leader toward the shore.
The final exchange was brief.
A reinforced strike to the chest hurled the murloc leader against a rock. He fell to his knees, gasping, blue blood mixing with the water.
The fighting stopped.
César did not waste time.
His ability activated instantly.
Mental control descended like an invisible net, invading the leader's mind, altering thoughts, planting loyalty. He did not break him. He rewrote him.
Even so, the murlocs did not retreat immediately. They fought with fury while the goblins struggled to contain them.
Then—
The murloc leader stood up.
He raised his head and released a deep cry that echoed across the water.
The murlocs froze.
The goblins did as well.
César nodded.
One by one, the murlocs withdrew, watching in silence.
The leader lowered his spear.
"I have been defeated," he gurgled in broken speech. "The river… is yours."
He crawled to César and struck his forehead against the ground.
"We accept being vassals."
A murmur spread among the goblins.
The leader made a gesture.
From behind the rocks emerged a murloc with lighter scales, firm posture, intelligent eyes. Not a child. An adult female, marked with tribal symbols.
"My daughter," the leader said. "Only one. Worthy of the bond."
César observed her in silence.
Outwardly, absolute calm.
Inwardly, genuine surprise.
'I did not expect this…'
He knew that in the future, semi-human females would appear, but encountering a murloc now caught him off guard.
He did not see blind submission.
He saw calculation.
Survival.
'Interesting…'
"The marriage will seal the pact," the leader continued. "Water and land. Blood and mana."
César understood.
Even under control, the leader still thought like a true ruler: offering what was most valuable to secure his people's future.
He nodded slowly.
"I accept your surrender," he said. "From now on, the river will be shared. My law will rule… and your people will live."
The murloc inclined her head.
Without fear.
César looked around.
Goblins and murlocs alike were kneeling.
He smiled.
He had not only conquered territory.
He had gained a vassal people.
And the river…
now sang his name.