Night fell slowly over the village.
Torches illuminated the newly raised wooden houses, and the murmur of the river reached them like a steady heartbeat. There was no alarm, no visible tension. Only a heavy calm—the kind that exists before the world decides to break.
César sat by the fire with his family and the newest member among them: Laura, the daughter of the Murloc King.
Luna, his mother, sat across from him, slowly stirring a pot of thick meat stew. Steam rose, mixed with herbs and hot grease. Her face looked tired, but resolute. There was something different about her since she had formed her mana core—a quiet, unshakable stability.
Gab, his father, leaned against a log, sharpening a short blade. He did not look up as he spoke.
"The scouts returned today."
César nodded, already aware of the subject.
"I know."
Goby, sitting beside him, clenched his teeth.
"They're getting closer," he said. "The PigMen are hunting near our routes."
Sasha growled softly, her ears standing straight.
"It won't be long before they find us."
Lina, seated slightly behind them, hugged her knees. Her fingers moved restlessly.
"They don't attack small tribes without reason," she murmured. "They only strike when they believe they can crush everything without losing anything."
Luna lifted her gaze.
"We must be prepared. They don't forgive. They attack with the intent to destroy and enslave."
The fire crackled.
César remained silent for a few seconds.
'There's no way to avoid it anymore.'
The PigMen—possibly allies of the Gods, tasked with spreading the monstrous crystals.
"The PigMen aren't coming for food," César finally said. "They're coming for control."
Gab stopped sharpening.
"Then it's war."
"Not yet," César replied. "But it will be."
Asia, recalling what had happened to her own village, frowned.
"They always attack at dawn. They use numbers, weight, and terror. They're not fast, but they don't tire."
"And they enjoy breaking things," Luna added coldly. "Especially morale. They torture prisoners brutally."
César raised his gaze, looking at each of them in turn.
"There's still time. Just because they're getting closer doesn't mean they've found us yet. We still have time to develop."
He leaned forward.
"When we're ready, we'll face them with everything we have."
Lina blinked.
"How?"
César rested his elbows on his knees.
"Because of how recklessly they act, the PigMen believe this place is weak."
That might be true—this region was far from where the strongest devil-humans resided, he thought.
He smiled faintly.
"But they're wrong."
Luna closed the pot and stood up.
"Speak clearly," she said. "Stop going in circles. We're not children."
César nodded, his mouth tightening as his expression turned serious.
"First: fortifications."
Asia raised an eyebrow, doubtful.
"Walls?"
"No. There's no time for that. If they come, we'll build palisades," he corrected. "Shallow trenches. Hidden stakes. Nothing sophisticated—but enough to break their charge."
Sasha bared her fangs in a fierce smile.
"If they can't ram straight through, they get frustrated."
César exhaled slowly.
"I hope it won't be soon. We're not ready yet. We just won a battle—we still need to grow."
He stood up.
"But if they come… they'll learn something."
He looked over the village.
The river.
The houses.
His people.
"And that this place is no longer hunting ground."
Luna watched her son and smiled with pride.
The night had advanced in silence.
As César prepared to meditate, he suddenly heard someone knocking at the door.
Sasha stood near the entrance.
Her tail moved slowly—not from nerves, but from an anticipation she could not hide. Her ears, upright, caught every breath behind her.
César let her in and closed the door. He was curious about why she had come so late.
They were alone.
Sasha spoke without turning around.
Suddenly, as if something ignited within him, César understood why she was there and asked quietly, with hesitation:
"Are you sure?"
César was no saint or anything of the sort. The only reason he had postponed this situation was personal—he wanted to reach a higher level first.
Sasha took a step forward.
"I am."
She turned slowly.
Her yellow eyes shone with an intensity different from combat. It was not the fierceness of the hunt, nor the tension of war. It was something deeper. More vulnerable.
"For me…" Sasha continued, stepping closer, "this isn't just desire."
Her voice faltered slightly.
"I know," César replied, never looking away.
He raised a hand slowly, letting her see every movement before touching her. His fingers first rested on her arm, feeling the warmth beneath the fur, the restrained strength… then moved up to her shoulder.
Sasha did not pull away.
Instead, she tilted her head slightly, allowing the distance between them to shrink even more. Her tail flicked in a brief, almost shy motion.
"In my people," she murmured, "sharing this is a promise."
César rested his forehead against hers.
"Then I won't take it lightly."
The silence that followed was not uncomfortable.
It was dense.
Heavy.
Sasha took a deep breath, and for the first time, her dominant posture softened. Her hands found César's chest—not forcefully, but with the need to feel that he was real. That he was there.
"I'm not fragile," she whispered. "But with you… I don't want to be only strong."
César closed his eyes for a moment.
'Not yet,' he thought.
Even though he wanted to move forward, he ultimately pulled back. He did not want to conceive yet. A part of him—his goblin side—urged him to do so, but he resisted. He would wait until she formed her mana core as well.
But as another thought crossed his mind, he could not help but smile darkly.
'I still have another way in…'
He embraced her.
The lamp's flame flickered softly—
—and Sasha's cries echoed through the night.