Then after Atem healed all the goblins and they all swore loyalty to him, he asked, "When do the wolves usually attack?"
The scarred goblin who had taken to leadership pointed to the dark ridge and answered clearly, "They come at night, right after the moon climbs and the forest goes quiet. That's when the pack hunts."
"Very well," Atem said. He looked over the tiny cluster of huts and the thin ring of smoke where the goblins slept. "For now, we'll build a wall. Use wood. Make it sturdy."
Several goblins nodded and ran off at once. They returned with branches, logs, and thorny brambles, working in an energetic, clumsy rush. Atem stayed with them and showed them exactly how to build it. He placed a sturdy stake into the ground and demonstrated how to wedge smaller branches in at an angle, how to press the base down so animals could not easily dig under, and how to weave thorny brush between logs to slow anyone trying to slip through.
"Push the stake all the way in so it does not wobble," he said, and the tall goblin hammered the stake with a stone until it sat firm. "Tie the cross-piece at this height so it braces the wall. If you twist the vine once, then tuck it, it will not come loose." He did each task slowly, letting them copy his hands. They were clumsy at first, but they learned fast.
When the palisade stood—short but solid—Atem told every villager to stay inside for the night. They hesitated. Old instincts are hard to break, but they had sworn themselves to him. One by one they obeyed. They shuttered the cave entrance, piled furs against the doorway, and gathered in the center, whispering quietly. Atem stood outside the palisade and walked the perimeter once. He checked for weak spots and set a few watch stones that could be thrown to make noise if anything slipped in.
As the sun fell and the sky darkened, a single high howl cracked through the trees. It was answered by another, then another, until the forest itself seemed to sing with wolf calls.
<< Master — a pack approaches. Thirty wolves, led by a large alpha, >> the Oracle said inside his mind, calm and clear.
"Very well," Atem murmured.
He raised his hand and summoned the Dark Magician by name. Shadows folded like a curtain; with a flash of cold light the Magician appeared at his side, robes whispering, staff in hand. Atem felt steadiness settling beside him like armor.
The wolves moved into the clearing in a single, flowing shadow. Eyes flashed, teeth glinted, and the leader stepped forward — larger, battle-scarred, moving with the authority of someone who had always been obeyed. He fixed Atem with a hard look and spoke, not with words but with a fierce thought that hammered into Atem's mind: What is a human doing in a goblin village?
"These goblins are now my subordinates," Atem said out loud, voice low and steady. "Leave now, and I will not harm you. Try to take them and you will learn my strength."
The leader laughed, a rough sound that shivered the leaves. "A puny human like you dares give orders?" he snarled, and then he lunged.
The leader's speed surprised the clearing for a heartbeat, but the Dark Magician was faster. With a practiced motion he cast a set of black magician-hats that spun through the air and slammed down around the alpha like a dome. The wolf's legs scrambled, claws scrabbling on invisible walls.
"Now," the Magician intoned. He shaped his hands into a sharp sign. From thin air, a storm of glittering blades formed—countless, precise. He called it the Thousand Knives Technique. The knives struck cleanly, piercing the space inside the hat, flashing in a pattern that forced the trapped wolf to freeze under the onslaught. The leader howled, a single raw sound of surprise and pain, then went still.
Atem stepped forward with no hurry and extended his palm, he reached with his will and pulled—the old alpha's life-spark unraveled like a thread and flowed toward Atem in a ribbon of pale light. Atem drew it in, feeling the wolf's sharp, fierce will fold into his chest like a new weight. The wolf's eyes dimmed and the body eased into quiet.
Around him the rest of the pack froze. Confusion and fear rolled through them like a ripple. They could smell their leader's scent fade. They could feel the sudden change in the air where that leadership had been.
Atem's voice cut the stillness. "If you do not want the same fate," he said, "go back to the ridge and never bother these goblins again."
For a beat they did not move. Atem expected them to scatter or to try to fight. Instead one of the wolves — a male with a streak of silver on his muzzle — stepped forward. He did not approach with teeth bared. He bowed his head slowly, an old, animal gesture that meant submission and recognition more than fear. The rest of the pack followed his example, lowering their heads in one slow wave.
"We swear our lives to him," the male said plainly inside Atem's mind. "Now our leader is gone. The strongest leads. You took him. You are now our leader. We swear to you."
Atem's breath hitched. He had not expected them to pledge so readily, but the Oracle's voice explained what his mind could already see.
<< Master — this is how packs live. The strongest is the leader. By ending their alpha, you have severed their old bond. They seek a new guide. Your action made you their rightful leader. >>
He looked toward the palisade. The goblins peered out from behind the wood, faces pale but eager. They had stayed inside because they could not disobey their master; now they watched the clearing with the stupid, wide-eyed hope of people who had just been given a promise of safety.
"All right," Atem said finally, settling the weight of the moment into rules. "If you are mine, you hunt only at my command. Protect the goblins and their homes. Do not attack travelers on the road without my permission. Break this and you will have no leader."
A low chorus of soft, agreeing sounds passed through the pack. The silver-muzzled male lifted his head and made a single sound that tasted like vow and duty. The rest answered. Then, slowly and obediently, they melted back into the treeline — not fleeing like frightened animals, but moving with the posture of creatures who had accepted a new order.
Atem let out a breath he had been holding without noticing. He felt the new responsibilities settle like a cloak around his shoulders. He had not sought to become a leader of beasts and goblins, but power flowed in strange directions. Tonight he had protected a tiny village and taken responsibility for a pack. The forest seemed quieter now; the immediate danger had passed.
The heavy silence that followed the battle hung in the air. The pack of thirty wolves, once fierce predators of the forest, now sat low to the ground with their heads bowed. Their massive forms loomed like shadows at the edge of the torchlight, their glowing eyes reflecting the fire in the distance. The goblins peered from behind the crude wooden wall, their bodies trembling at the sight of their former tormentors.
Atem turned his head slowly, his deep gaze falling on the goblins who clutched their spears and makeshift clubs. Some were shaking so hard that their knees buckled, while others hid behind their stronger kin, peeking out nervously.
"Do not be afraid," Atem's voice rang calm but firm, carrying authority that left no room for doubt. "These wolves are no longer your enemies. From this night forward, they are part of this village—my subordinates, just like you."
The goblins murmured among themselves, their voices rising in panic and disbelief.
"What?! The wolves… with us?"
"B-but they killed our brothers… they hunted us down…"
"Can we really live together?!"
A few of the goblins pressed their foreheads to the ground, torn between fear of the wolves and their newfound loyalty to Atem.
One young goblin, barely able to hold his stick-spear, whispered shakily, "If Lord Atem commands it… then it must be so…"
Then, another voice—an older goblin with shaky but proud steps—spoke up louder, his voice carrying across the crowd. "All hail Lord Atem! He has given us strength, he has healed us, and now he has brought the wolves to heel! Long live Lord Atem!"
The chant spread hesitantly at first, then grew louder as courage swelled in their hearts.
"Long live Lord Atem!"
"Long live Lord Atem!"
Atem raised his hand, silencing the cries. He stepped forward, his cloak brushing the dirt as the Dark Magician's presence faded into the shadows behind him. He faced both goblins and wolves together, his eyes glowing faintly with power.
"Listen well," he declared. "This village is mine. You are all my subordinates—goblins and wolves alike. From now on, you will not live in fear of one another. You will protect each other. You will grow stronger together. This is my command."
The wolves lowered their heads even further, their tails pressed flat against the earth. The largest among them—the one who had first bowed after their leader's death—stepped forward and spoke in a rumbling, respectful tone.
"We… understand, Master. We will no longer hunt the goblins. They are our kin now. As your fangs, we shall guard them as we guard you."
The goblins gasped at hearing the wolf's voice, clear and deep, as if a great warrior was speaking. Some still trembled, but the look in their eyes began to shift—from fear… to awe.
Atem gave a small nod. "Good. Then tomorrow, we will begin building a true village. Walls, homes, defenses… and order. Together, you will thrive."
The goblins bowed low, their voices overlapping as they shouted, "Yes, Lord Atem!"
The wolves howled in unison, a sound that once chilled the goblins to the bone but now echoed as a cry of unity beneath the night sky.
And for the first time in their lives, the goblins felt something strange, something they had never dared to hope for.
They felt safe.