The night was quiet—too quiet. The goblin settlement, usually filled with the sounds of distant arguments and crude laughter, had settled into an eerie stillness. Only the occasional crackle of the dying embers in the communal fire pit broke the silence. Leav sat near the fire, staring into the dim glow, his mind racing. The Trial of Blood was over, and he had won, but there was no sense of triumph in his heart. Something still felt off.
Bout was missing.
It wasn't like him to simply vanish without a word. Bout was deliberate, calculated. He moved with purpose, every action serving a greater goal. That meant his absence wasn't random—it was intentional. And that worried Leav more than any enemy he could see.
His fingers tightened around the crude dagger he had fashioned from a beast's fang. He knew he couldn't let this go unanswered. He needed to find Bout before his disappearance spiraled into something dangerous.
But first, he had other matters to handle.
Before tracking Bout, Leav knew he needed to secure his position within the tribe. Winning the Trial had given him authority, but authority alone was fragile. Power in the tribe wasn't just about winning a fight—it was about controlling what happened afterward. If he didn't act quickly, his enemies would.
He gestured for Yorl, Weal, and Frot to gather. Trek and Tear stood nearby, watching with unreadable expressions.
"We need to move carefully," Leav began, his tone measured but firm. "The trial gave me an advantage, but that advantage won't last if we don't use it wisely. I've made enemies."
Yorl snorted, arms crossed. "Let them come. I'll break their skulls."
Leav fixed him with a sharp look. "You'll train with Tear before breaking anyone's skull."
Yorl's scowl deepened, but he said nothing. That was a small victory.
Turning to Weal, Leav continued. "I want you scouting the surroundings. Find useful plants—medicine, poison, anything that gives us an edge. We'll need every advantage."
Weal nodded quickly, eager to prove himself. "I won't disappoint you."
Finally, Leav turned to Frot. Of all of them, Frot was the most dangerous—not because of his strength, but because of his mind. Leav knew he couldn't fully trust him, but he needed him.
"Frot, you'll help me stabilize things politically. Who opposes me?"
Frot smirked, tilting his head slightly. "Plenty. The old chieftain's loyalists, the warriors who think brute strength should lead… and of course—Bout."
Leav's expression darkened. "You know something?"
Frot shrugged lazily. "Only that he left right before your fight. He's been watching you since we got here. And now, he's disappeared."
That confirmed it. Bout wasn't just missing—he was planning something.
Leav took a slow breath. "I'll find him. And when I do, I'll get answers."
Leav moved through the goblin settlement like a shadow, careful not to draw attention. Most of the tribe was asleep, but he knew better than to assume he was unseen.
He made his way toward the outskirts of the camp, where the thick forest swallowed the moonlight. It was the perfect hiding spot.
Then, he heard it—a whisper of movement, a shift in the air.
Leav ducked instinctively. A dagger flashed through the darkness, slicing through the empty space where his neck had been just moments before. He rolled, springing back onto his feet, and lashed out with his own blade—only to hit nothing.
"Good instincts," a voice murmured from the shadows. "But you're still too slow."
Leav's grip tightened on his dagger. "Bout."
The goblin stepped into the moonlight, his dark eyes unreadable. He looked the same as ever—calm, precise, unreadable. But there was something different. A new sharpness in his gaze.
"You disappeared," Leav said carefully. "Now you attack me? Explain."
Bout exhaled slowly. "You trust too easily."
Leav frowned. "That's your answer?"
"It's the truth." Bout's voice was quiet, but firm. "That trust will get you killed."
Leav studied him for a long moment. "You didn't answer my question."
Bout was silent for a moment before finally speaking. "You're smarter than the others. That's why I follow you. But the moment you grow weak, I'll leave."
Leav's muscles tensed. "Weak? I just won the Trial."
Bout tilted his head slightly. "And yet, you didn't kill Drak."
The words sent a chill through Leav's spine.
"I beat him," Leav said slowly. "That's what mattered."
Bout took a step closer. "No. What mattered was making an example. You let him live, and now your enemies know you hesitate."
Leav clenched his fists. "Killing him wouldn't have helped me."
Bout's expression remained unreadable. "That's where you're wrong. Leadership isn't about mercy—it's about control."
Leav inhaled deeply, forcing himself to stay calm. He needed Bout's skills, but he also needed to make one thing clear.
"I'm not a mindless killer," Leav said, his voice cold. "If you have a problem with that, leave."
Bout studied him for a long moment, then smiled.
"No," he said. "I'll stay—for now."
Leav didn't like the way he said that.
"But remember this," Bout continued. "If you ever become a liability, I'll end you myself."
Then he was gone, melting back into the darkness as if he had never been there.
Leav exhaled slowly. He didn't trust Bout. But he wasn't sure he could afford to lose him, either.
When Leav returned to the center of camp, Frot was waiting for him.
"You found him?" Frot asked, one eyebrow raised.
"Yes," Leav said.
"And?"
Leav hesitated. "He's loyal. In his own way."
Frot smirked. "You're a terrible liar."
Leav ignored him. "Any news?"
Frot leaned in slightly. "The chieftain's old supporters aren't happy. They're planning something."
Leav's expression hardened. "Then we move first."
Frot's smirk widened. "Now you're thinking like a leader."
Before dawn, Leav gathered his team once again.
"Our enemies are moving. We need to be ready."
Yorl cracked his knuckles. "Finally."
Weal swallowed nervously. "What's the plan?"
Leav glanced at Trek and Tear. "I'll need your help."
Trek nodded. "Of course. But what exactly are we doing?"
Leav smirked. "We're making an example."
The next night, the first traitor's corpse was found at the center of camp.
Leav didn't kill for pleasure. But he had learned something important.
Mercy had its limits.