"I'm grateful to you, Demos," Akira said, wiping the sweat that pooled at her feet. "But I don't know your mother, and I wasn't being disrespectful to Spartan heritage. There's no need to get angry. I only said that to lead the other tribes—they'll need more answers about what's coming."
Demos considered her for a moment. "Hmm. I'll send Ryker to invite the long-ears' queen here, so we can share some of the Perezoso we killed," he said.
Ryker, Maverick, Gorthok, Thane, and Kael all rose to their feet at once.
"I don't care much, nor do I understand all that you were talking about," one of them said, speaking for the group. "I just want to know—this strength you have… will we all gain that kind of power, as long as we bear those Soulbound Markings?"
"Yes," Demos said firmly, his voice steady and commanding. "And in ninety moons my mother will come to this village to assist in awakening all of us. Until then, the men will train and hunt without pause. In that time, I must also find a way to bring the long-ears' queen and her people to join our tribe."
Three moons later – Blood Vines Forest
In a large, crumbling treehouse, eight long-ears women sat around a long rectangular table.
Up close, the sight was grim—they were famished, their bodies weakened as if they hadn't eaten for days, perhaps weeks.
At last, a beautiful, dark-skinned long-ears woman broke the silence. Her voice trembled with agitation as she spoke to the others seated at the table, and to the one standing silently by the window.
By the cracked wooden frame stood another long-ears woman. Even in her frailty, she was striking beyond words.
Her skin was pale as moonlight, smooth despite the hunger that had stolen the softness from her cheeks. It seemed to glow faintly against the dim, dusty air of the treehouse, as though her very body rejected the gloom surrounding her.
Her hair, a cascade of emerald green, tumbled down her back in unkempt waves. Even tangled and dulled from neglect, it carried a natural brilliance—like a forest clinging to life, refusing to lose its color.
Her eyes, framed by long lashes, burned with a sharp violet fire that hunger could not extinguish. Though her figure was lean, her posture remained regal, every tilt of her head carrying a silent authority.
Even starved, even weathered by despair, she was breathtaking—like a dying rose that still refused its beauty, or a queen whose crown was invisible but undeniable.
"My queen, it has been three weeks since we suffered that surprise attack from those disgusting goblins," said the dark-skinned long-ears woman, her voice tight with frustration. The words carried a raw edge of bitterness, the kind that only starvation and loss could sharpen.
She turned her head, expecting the queen to respond, but before the queen could speak, another woman—this one with short, fiery-red hair and sharp, angular features—rose from her seat.
"Even if we didn't lose any of our people," she said bitterly, "we lost everything else. The livestock—gone. Every beast we depended on for food, taken or slaughtered. And our water supply…" her jaw clenched, her violet eyes glistening with restrained fury. "They poisoned it. The wells, the streams—everything fouled. if Our children drink they'll get sick, but we fix it theirs nothing at all we can do."
A murmur spread through the table, the women shifting uneasily. Their hollow eyes carried the weight of despair. One clutched her stomach, which growled loudly in the silence that followed, while another pressed trembling fingers against her lips as if to hold back tears.
The air was heavy with hopelessness.
All eyes eventually returned to the queen by the window—the last figure of strength among them. Her silence was not weakness but judgment, every second she withheld her voice pressing down on them like stone.
The queen turned from the window, her emerald hair swaying as she walked back to the head of the table. She lowered herself into the chair with measured grace, her violet eyes sweeping across the weary faces before her. When she finally spoke, her voice cut through the silence like tempered steel.
"Lady Ava," she said coldly, "I do not need any of you to patronize me at this moment. I need answers. Solutions. Not endless complaints." Her gaze hardened, and the air seemed to tighten in the room. "You speak of hunger as if I am blind to it. Do you think I do not see my people wasting away? Do you think I do not feel their suffering?"
The queen's voice dropped lower, heavy with restrained fury. "But hunger is not what will kill us. Weakness will. While you sit here and cry over poisoned water and stolen livestock, not one of you has offered me a way to fight back. Not one. My people are starving, and your complaints only weigh us down further."
Lady Ava, the dark-skinned woman, bowed her head, shame washing over her expression. "I… I am sorry, my queen," she whispered, her voice trembling.
The queen sighed, her posture softening slightly though her authority never wavered. She shifted her gaze to the red-haired long-ears.
"Lady Emma," she said evenly, "I am aware of the situation. I know too well what has befallen the village. But as things stand, there is little we can do at this moment. And yet—" her violet eyes burned brighter, flicking between both women and the rest seated at the table, "—doing nothing will not be our fate. If we cannot fight with strength, we will fight with cunning. If we cannot draw from the land, then we will take from those who defile it."
The queen leaned forward, her pale fingers curling against the table. "I will not let goblins—or any creature—decide the end of our people."
The queen's gaze shifted to a blade-haired long-ears woman, her tone crisp and unyielding.
"Lady Olivia, Lady Amelia—what are the closest tribes around us? And why is it that our hunting teams have not been able to leave the village? Lady Sophia, have you discovered how the goblins entered our walls?"
The first to respond was Olivia. She lowered her head before speaking.
"My queen, the closest tribe is the barbarians… and beyond them, the cunning werewolf king," Olivia said carefully. "The werewolves are too strong for us to approach, but the barbarians remain a small village."
The queen leaned back, her violet eyes narrowing as she considered. "Hmm. We cannot seek help from the werewolf king, and the barbarians…" she shook her head. "They are being hunted by the giants. To use them would only lead the giants to our doorstep. That risk, I will not take."
Lady Amelia's voice rose next, firm but laced with dread. "My queen… at this moment, it is impossible to go hunting. The goblins number at least three thousand strong. Among them are a hundred hobgoblins, a goblin king, and four goblin mages. The odds are against us."
The queen's hands tightened into fists atop the table. "This is no good," she muttered, frustration flashing in her eyes.
Sophia, who had remained silent until now, stepped forward and bowed. "Yes, my queen—we found the hole they dug into the village and sealed it shut."
The queen straightened in her chair, her lips curving into the faintest of smiles. "That is the best news I have heard in weeks."
But Sophia did not share her relief. She shook her head gravely. "No, my queen. This is bad news. They can dig again, strike whenever they wish. We are already weakened. Should they attack once more… we cannot fight back."
The queen's faint smile faded, her eyes darkening with the weight of truth.
Just then, a short black-haired long-ears woman spoke up.
"My queen… I forgot to tell you," she said, stepping forward. "We caught one of the barbarians."
"Wait… how is that possible?" Ava, Isabella, and Evelyn asked in unison, their voices sharp with disbelief. "How did he get past all those goblins?"
Mia— the black-haired woman—shrugged, her expression tight. "I don't know. I didn't ask him, given the situation."
The queen's violet eyes narrowed. "That doesn't sound like them," she said slowly. "Did he not try to resist? Did he not fight back?"
"No, my queen," Mia replied, her voice low. "It was… strange. He looked at us as if we were family—or part of his tribe."
The queen leaned forward, her fingers resting lightly on the table, her gaze sharp. "I see… Very well. Bring him here. We will find out what he knows… and why he came alone."
Three days before Ryker was set to leave the village, Demos called him aside.
"Hey, Ryker," Demos said, his voice steady but firm, "remember not to fight with them. We are from the same race—but they look different now, but our souls the same. Once my mother descends into this world, they will know the truth of what is happening. For now… just deliver the message. Do not tell them we are of the same race."
"Yes, my lord," Ryker replied. "I won't speak of anything I shouldn't. I'll just invite them to split the Perezoso meat."
With those words, Ryker prepared for the journey. He packed enough food and water for the days ahead, resting and eating well over the next three moons to ensure he was at peak strength.
On the second day of travel, he noticed traces of a large group moving in the direction of the long-ears' village. Sensing urgency, he pushed forward at full speed, weaving through the forest with care to avoid leaving his own trail.
When he finally reached the long-ears' village, he observed it from a distance. The settlement was under constant watch by goblins, their patrols sharp and unrelenting, moving in precise, intimidating patterns. Ryker's heart beat faster, but he did not falter.
Two more moons passed as he studied the patrols, learning their routines, and waiting for the perfect moment. Finally, under the cover of darkness, he descended from the trees and approached the village entrance, shadows concealing his movement. Drawing a deep breath, he called out—his voice carrying just enough to be heard but carefully measured so as not to alert the goblins.
A few moments later, a short black-haired long-ears woman spoke.
"Why is a barbarian here at this moment?" Mia asked sharply, her steel-gray eyes narrowing as she stepped closer.
"I was sent from my village by our leader, to speak to your queen," Ryker replied, his voice steady despite the tension.
Mia hesitated, then said, "Okay… but for now, you will have to wait."
Ryker's eyes flicked toward her. "Okay… but you don't have three moons before the goblins attack."
The moment Mia heard this, she barked an order to open the gate and capture him. Ryker heard the command, but he did not resist. He let them seize him, stepping calmly into the trap.
But as he looked at the long-ears people around him, his expression softened. Grief and recognition flickered across his face. These were his kin—the same race as him—the very people his leader, Demos, was striving to unite once more.
For a brief moment, memories of the tall people destroying his old village flashed through him. The pain and loss sharpened his focus.
Snapping back to the present, Ryker, though tied with rope, walked into the cage with a calm smile on his face, his eyes steady and unreadable, hiding both grief and determination.
Back to the present.
All eight women, along with their queen, sat waiting. The moment Ryker stepped into their presence—standing a towering six feet three, muscles broad and defined like stone pillars—their breath caught. The queen's sharp eyes widened as the truth sank in. If this barbarian had entered with ill intent, they all would have been dead the instant he crossed the threshold.
"Remove the rope from him," the queen ordered, her voice calm yet commanding.
At once, the eight women cried out in unison. "No, my queen! Please—take back that order!"
But Ryker only spoke in a low, steady voice. "No need to trouble yourselves."
With a sudden flex, he drew upon his sheer strength. The rope—fifteen centimeters thick and hardened from use—snapped apart like brittle twine.
The eight women immediately reached for their daggers , each weapon engraved with strange markings that pulsed faintly in the firelight. Their hands trembled, ready to strike.
"Hold," the queen said, raising her hand to still them. Her gaze locked onto Ryker, unflinching. "Tell me—how did you get past the goblins? Or is it that you work with them? Speak plainly. What is your purpose here?"
Ryker straightened his back, standing tall before them, and spoke clearly.
"I am Ryker. My leader sent me to invite the long-ears queen… to share and split some of the Pérezoso meat we have. We are not with the goblins. My leader chose me because I am the second fastest among us—second only to him."
with mockery ava.
"Ahahaha—you and your weak village managed to kill a Pérezoso? And now you want to give it to us? Ahahaha!"
Ryker's brown eyes shifted toward her, but the queen spoke before he could answer.
"Ryker, was it? You speak of your leader… What is it that he truly wants from us? And why do you not behave like the other barbarian tribes?"
"We are not like the others. That is what my leader says," Ryker replied firmly. He turned to Ava, his expression hardening. "When we traveled over the mountains, we were attacked by a nest of Pérezoso. Our leader used his divine lightning to kill them all—so that we could make it across safely."
"So you're saying this leader of yours wields divine lightning?" The queen smirked, and at once all eight women broke into laughter. Their voices rang through the creaking beams of the old treehouse, shaking dust loose from its rotting frame.
Ryker's jaw tightened. He thought of Demos—he couldn't allow his leader's name to be mocked. With a sharp motion, he slammed his hand down on the table, shattering it into splinters.
The laughter died instantly. All eight women leapt to their feet, weapons drawn, eyes blazing, ready to cut him down where he stood. The treehouse groaned as if ready to collapse under the sudden tension.
Ryker didn't flinch. He looked at them one by one and spoke with calm steel.
"I was sent here to invite you and your people to share food. I am not here to let you laugh at my leader. The problem you face is greater than you think. You believe it is only the goblins who wish to destroy your village…"
He leaned forward slightly, a faint smile curling on his lips.
"While you laugh at my leader, the tall people and the goblins are just two moons away from your gates."