Night fell slowly over the village.
Torches illuminated the newly erected wooden houses, and the murmur of the river reached them like a steady heartbeat. There was no alarm, no visible tension. Only a deep calm—the kind that exists before the world decides to collapse.
César sat by the fire with his family and the newest member among them: Laura, the daughter of the Murloc King.
She had not possessed a name. Like goblins, the murlocs did not have the custom of naming their young. The name he gave her had simply been the first that came to mind—but it was better than nothing.
Luna, his mother, sat across from him, slowly stirring a pot of thick meat stew. Steam rose, mixed with herbs and hot fat. Her face looked tired, yet resolute.
Something about her had changed since forming her mana core—a serene, unshakable stability.
His father, Gab, leaned against a log, sharpening a short blade. He did not look up when he spoke.
"The scouts returned today."
César nodded. He already knew.
"I know."
Gobol, seated beside him, clenched his teeth.
"They're getting closer. The Pigmen my sister-in-law mentioned—they're hunting near our routes."
Sasha let out a low growl, ears upright. "It won't be long before they find us."
Like Asia, she deeply despised the Pigmen.
Asia, sitting slightly behind them, hugged her knees. Her fingers moved restlessly.
"They may seem reckless and crude," she murmured, speaking from experience, "but they don't attack small tribes without reason. They strike only when they believe they can crush everything without losing anything."
Luna lifted her gaze. Determination burned within it—along with hatred.
"My son, we must be ready. They do not forgive. They attack to destroy and enslave. You must prepare us not only to defend… but to strike."
She, too, carried hatred. The dark elves who had destroyed her village had acted under the Pigmen's command.
The fire crackled.
César remained silent for a few seconds.
"There's no avoiding it anymore," he said quietly. Perhaps the Pigmen already saw them as an easy target—insignificant goblins.
The Pigmen, possibly aligned with the Gods, tasked with spreading monstrous crystals.
"They're not coming for food," César continued. "They're coming for control. They want slaves. They want worship. They see us as easy prey."
Gab stopped sharpening and listened carefully.
"Then we'll prove we're not. They have a god backing them. So do we. If they come, we'll show them we're no longer helpless."
"Are we going to war?" Gabe, the youngest of César's brothers, asked.
"Not yet," César replied. "But sooner or later, it will come. What we have now is time to prepare."
Asia frowned, remembering what had happened to her own village.
"They always attack at dawn. They avoid the night—they're not nocturnal. They prefer sending dark elves for that. They use numbers, weight, terror. They're not fast, but they don't tire. And they're clever—they exploit any weakness they find."
Her words stirred Luna's memories. They had attacked precisely when her racial advantage faded.
"And they enjoy breaking things," Luna added coldly. "Torturing. Humiliating. Almost no prisoner survives. Most end up as rations."
César looked at each of them in turn.
"There's still time. Just because they're approaching doesn't mean they've found us. We still have time to grow."
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 their arrogance, the Pigmen believe this place is weak."
That assumption made sense. This region lay far from where the strongest demon-humans resided. And anyone seeing goblins gathering would never consider them a threat.
He smiled faintly.
"But they're wrong."
Luna closed the pot and stood.
"Speak plainly," she said. "Stop circling around it. We're not children."
César nodded, his expression turning serious.
"First: fortifications."
Asia raised an eyebrow. "Walls?"
"No. There's no time for that. If they come, we build palisades," he corrected. "Shallow trenches. Hidden stakes. Nothing sophisticated—but enough to break their charge."
Sasha bared her fangs in a fierce grin.
"If they can't advance directly, they get frustrated."
César exhaled slowly.
'I hope it's not soon. We're not ready. We just won a battle—we need time to grow.'
He stood.
"But even if they don't give us time—if they attack—we'll show them we are not the easy prey they believe. We will not kneel to those pigs or their gods."
He looked at the village.
The river.
The houses.
His people.
"This place is no longer a hunting ground."
Luna watched her son—and smiled with pride.