Dust motes danced in the beams, and the air carried the faint scent of damp earth and lingering blood from the recent battles. Gribnox and Murkfang sat on overturned crates in a collapse area of the mine, papers and maps spread out between them like a patchwork even though the accuracy was left to the imagination. They were repairing their chain of command—reassigning roles, tallying survivors, figuring out who could still swing a pick or hold a spear. The goblin numbers had been gutted; every name crossed off was a knife to the heart.

They were suffering the aftermath and there was no way in hell they would be able to to resume work in this state because nothing was stopping the orcs from coming back to finish them off.

Gribnox leaned forward, his dented armor creaking, and filled Murkfang in on everything he had missed. "Byung is amazing," Gribnox said, voice low but steady.

"Broke out of Elandor with Maui. Rescued you from Rodell's pits. Fought his way through guards, merchants, the whole damn kingdom. Even scrapped with Drekk—our own Drekk—and walked away," Gribnox was speaking like a fanboy and who could blame him?

Murkfang, still pale and wrapped in bandages, smiled for the first time since waking. The grin was weak, but genuine.

"Fought Drekk? And survived? Orcs jumped him too, you say?" Murkfang wanted to know more.

Gribnox nodded, eyes shining with a mix of awe and exhaustion.

"Yeah. Took on three or four in the tunnels. Slit throats, caused a cave-in with his bare fists. I have no idea what made him strong but he feels like an orc in a goblin body. He did it all—escaped, rescued you, came back here to fight. Despite everything," Gribnox told him but Murkfang's conscience was eating away at him.

Murkfang's smile faded, replaced by a thoughtful frown. He couldn't help but admire Byung's ingenuity—the clever traps, the daring escapes, the way he turned weakness into weapons. But guilt gnawed at him like a rat in the dark. Byung had done all this even though Murkfang's hands weren't clean. He had laid the bait six months ago, whispering rumors to the orcs, stirring the orc with subtle lies about their production rate with rumors of cutting them off and blood rites. He knew the orcs despised them, would seize any excuse to escalate the situation especially as them as aggressors.

Borg, the fool, had made the first move—attacking the outpost, sparking the war. But the timeframe didn't add up; the bait hadn't worked for months. There was a high chance the attack wasn't his fault at all and Borg acted alone. But Murkfang wasn't smart, his brain was limited.

Murkfang's little brain couldn't see it that way. Guilt ate him up, a constant chew in his gut. He hated what he had done, but it was necessary—a sacrifice to summon the entity that led them. Just like Drekk, he wished to see the goblin king, to ask the one question burning in his soul.

The king appeared only in the midst of true chaos, when goblins bled and broke. Murkfang had engineered that storm. Or so he believed. Yet, there was no goblin king and the thought he didn't exist despite what he had done made things worse.

Now their numbers suffered. Not enough manpower to run the mines at full capacity—diggers dead, supervisors nowhere to be found, morale shattered.

He knew he had to make amends, to find a way to rebuild and devout him to Byung whole-heardtedly.

There was one thing both Barons knew, they were no longer the leading figures in this mine but Byung was on the verge on death.

He was in that state because he tried to protect them all, the fact that Naz survived her birth was a game-changer.

They had no idea why this happened but Naz did tell them she was given medicine by Byung and they instantly attributed it to this secret medicine.

However, they didn't have the recipe, not like they would be able to remake it with their limited brain.

Borkle soon burst in, panting, eyes wide.

"Byung's awake!"

Gribnox and Murkfang jumped to their feet, crates toppling. Papers scattered like leaves. Without a word, they rushed out, Borkle scrambling to keep up. The goblin had barely slept in three days, watching over Byung like it was his sacred duty. He knew Byung was in this state because he chose to stand against the enemies.

They barreled through the tunnels, past stunned goblins who parted like water, they were all gathered at the entrance of the infirmary.

-

Byung stood in the infirmary, bandages trailing from his transformed body like shed skin. His new height and human-like features made him look like a stranger—a taller, broader goblin with sharper jaw and deeper eyes. The crowd stared in shock, whispers rippling.

"Who that?"

"Smells Byung... different."

Maui was there first, embracing him with a fierce hug. Gribnox and Murkfang arrived next, skidding to a halt.

Murkfang grinned, clapping Byung on the back.

"You look... bigger. Stronger. Like an orc," Murkfang had no idea how to process this but there was one thing he had learned. There was no point trying to understand what was going on with Byung as long as it wasn't harmful to him or them. Gribnox nodded, relief flooding his face.

"We held on because of you," Gribnox added but Byung was tired of the gratitude, this was his home.

He wasn't doing them any favors but he could see it, every eye present didn't look at him like he was their equals.

No, far from it, they knew he was their superior, Byung had not just become a Baron, he had become the Mogul of this area.

"We did it. The enemies were bigger and stronger than us but they didn't break us! But we will save our brothers they have taken captive," Byung barked and the goblins smiled.

This familiar feeling of safety, it resonated with them and a loud cheer echoed.

Byung wondered if their violent nature being suppressed was a good thing but this attack had shown him it wasn't.

He had to remind them of what they were, they were violent creatures created to bring chaos into this world, not domesticated animals.

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