The battlefield was silent.
Smoke curled above charred earth, and the stench of iron and ash lingered in the air. The wolves padded back into the village with blood on their fangs, their eyes grim. The goblins dragged the fallen knights into piles, some whispering prayers—not for the enemy, but for the dead among their own.
For though they had won, the victory had not come without cost.
---
Luminus moved among the wounded, his body shifting to a gentler, glowing form. Wherever he touched, wounds closed and fevers eased. Yet there were some he could not save. Goblin bodies lay still, their shields broken, their faces frozen in defiance. A few wolves lay among them, their fur matted with blood. Even one of the Kijin apprentices, a young warrior barely named, had fallen with a blade through his chest.
The villagers gathered around, silent, waiting.
It was Mira who spoke first, her usual fiery voice trembling. "They gave their lives for us. For this place. For you."
Luminus looked at her, then at the faces of the dead. His voice was quiet, steady. "Then we will honor them. Not as tools lost in battle. Not as pawns in war. But as family. Their names will be remembered."
He raised his body high, his glow washing over the village. "From this day, no one dies forgotten."
The goblins wept softly. The wolves raised their heads and howled—a mournful cry that echoed through the forest. The Kijin bowed their heads in solemn silence.
For the first time, the monsters of different tribes mourned together.
---
That night, a great fire burned at the center of the village. Not of destruction, but of remembrance. Around it, goblins, wolves, and Kijin shared food, drink, and stories of the fallen.
Zerath sat among the younger goblins, retelling the bravery of one who had held the shield wall even as his arm broke. Rugo told the wolves of a scout who lured three knights into an ambush at the cost of his own life. Mira raised her cup, flames dancing at her fingertips, to honor the apprentice who had shielded her with his last breath.
Even Gorath, the scarred leader of the Kijin, stood and bowed. His voice rumbled with respect. "These were not goblins, nor wolves, nor ogres. They were warriors of *our* village. Of *our* family."
The fire cracked, sparks flying upward into the night. And for the first time, every voice—weak or strong, high or deep—joined in a single cheer.
"To the fallen. To the village. To the future."
---
The battle had not only scarred them—it had changed them.
Some goblins found their bodies subtly shifting, their muscles hardening, their eyes sharper. They were becoming hobgoblins, a natural evolution born of courage and survival. Wolves, too, grew larger, their fangs gleaming brighter, their coats richer.
The Kijin glowed faintly under the moonlight, their strength deepening with their bond to Luminus. Even Mira felt her flames respond differently, fiercer yet more controlled.
Elira watched all this with wide eyes. "They… they're evolving. Faster than any monsters I've ever seen."
Luminus nodded. "It is not strength alone that drives evolution. It is purpose. They fought not as scattered beasts, but as a people united. That… is what makes them grow."
Elira looked at him then, her voice low. "And you. You are the root of it. You give them something to believe in."
Luminus was silent. He looked to the fire, watching his people laugh and cry in equal measure. *Is that what I am becoming? A leader, not by power, but by the weight of their faith?*
Yet even as the village healed, unease lingered.
"They will come again," Shira whispered one evening, her voice sharp as the wind she commanded. "The Church does not forgive. This was but a probing force. The true armies will march."
Zerath grunted. "Then let them come. We'll cut them down like we did today."
But Gorath disagreed, his deep voice stern. "Bravery without preparation is suicide. We must fortify, train, and gather allies. This village cannot stand alone forever."
Mira slammed her fist against the table, sparks flying. "Then let's make it stronger! Taller walls, better weapons, stronger magic!"
Their arguments rose until Luminus spoke.
"Both of you are right." His voice was calm but carried finality. "We must prepare. But not only in strength. We need order. Training. Discipline. No longer can we fight as scattered bands."
He rose, his form shimmering under the torchlight. "From this night forward, we are not goblins, wolves, ogres, or mages. We are one village. One people. And I will lead you."
A hush fell over the room.
And then, one by one, they bowed.
---
The following days changed the rhythm of the village.
*L*Goblins trained daily with wooden shields, learning to hold ranks.
*Wolves patrolled in coordinated packs, their howls used as signals.
*The Kijin taught discipline, drilling warriors with precision.
*Mira and her apprentices established a system to train new spellcasters, even teaching goblins the basics of flame and wind.
*Elira wrote scrolls and strategies, her human knowledge now turned to strengthen those she once feared.
And at the center of it all was Luminus. He guided, healed, listened, and inspired. When the goblins grew weary, he praised their effort. When wolves quarreled, he mediated. When the Kijin doubted, he reminded them of their oath.
The village, once scattered and desperate, now pulsed with life. A community was being born. A seed of something greater—a nation.
---
One evening, Luminus drifted to the edge of the forest, the stars glimmering above. Elira joined him, carrying parchment and ink.
"You look troubled," she said softly.
Luminus was silent for a while. Then, "I feel the weight of their trust. It is… heavy."
Elira gave a faint smile. "That's because you carry it honestly. Most leaders see people as tools. You… you see them as lives."
He turned his gaze to her, the stars reflected in his shifting form. "And you? Do you regret choosing this path?"
She hesitated, then shook her head. "No. For the first time, I feel… free. Not chained by blind faith, but walking toward something I chose."
A silence passed between them, not of distance but of understanding.
---
### The Foreshadowing
But peace never lasted long.
The next morning, a lone wolf scout returned, limping and bloodied. His voice was weak but urgent.
"The Church… they're gathering. An army. Hundreds… maybe thousands. And not just knights. Priests. Exorcists. War machines…"
The village fell into stunned silence.
Luminus looked at his people, their eyes wide with fear yet burning with resolve. He rose slowly, his form shimmering brighter than ever.
"Then we will be ready."