Atem took a long walk that night. He wanted to move, wanted to think. The forest was quiet under the stars. He met a few small monsters on the path — a pair of skittering lizards, a lone cave boar — nothing that tested him. He only practiced a few moves, tried a short flight hop, and felt how his body answered Veldora's power easier now. When he returned to the goblin camp he ate a little, checked the traps they'd set, and then slept under the largest root.
He woke the next morning to a sound he did not expect: deep, even breaths and the soft padding of big paws. For a moment he thought he was still dreaming.
He sat up. The clearing looked different.
Where the skinny goblins had slept, taller shapes stood now. They were wider in the shoulders. Their faces had sharper angles. Their skin was healthier. Some of them wore crude leather that fit better. They moved with steady, confident steps. Atem blinked and rubbed his eyes. He glanced to the edge of the camp and almost fell over with surprise.
The wolves were not wolves anymore. These beasts were huge — direwolves — bigger than men and layered with thick fur. A pair of them nosed the ground, then looked at Atem as if to say they knew him. One of them padded to a fallen stick and dropped it at his feet like an offering.
Atem swallowed and pushed himself to his feet. He walked slowly into the clearing so he wouldn't spook anything. The new goblins watched him like a crowd that waited for a king to speak.
Then Atem saw Rigurd.
He did not recognize him at first. The old, bent man who had shuffled through the camp only yesterday was gone. In his place was a younger, taller man with broad shoulders and hard muscle under his skin. Rigurd looked like someone who had been remade by strength. He breathed without the wheeze Atem remembered.
When Rigurd saw Atem's eyes open, something inside him broke. He ran faster than Atem expected. He dropped to his knees right in front of him and grabbed Atem's boots. He buried his face in Atem's cloak and started to cry — loud, ragged sobs that shook his shoulders.
"Master! Master!" Rigurd cried, voice strangled. "You… You named us. You saved us. Forgive me— forgive me for doubting—"
Atem froze. He looked down at Rigurd's hands, which were big and callused now. He looked up and saw all the new faces pressing forward, eyes wet and bright. For a second Atem's head swam. The scene was both beautiful and frightening.
Rigurd clung to him, tears soaking Atem's boots. "We evolved into Hobgoblins ...we woke up bigger," Rigurd choked. "We feel strong. You… you gave us a new life."
Atem put a steady hand on Rigurd's shoulder and gently eased him back until Rigurd sat more calmly. He took in the clearing: the organized stacks of wood, the way the hobgoblins moved with purpose. His chest tightened with a dozen small emotions — surprise, relief, a little pride, and a sudden heavy sense of care.
Then the Oracle's voice arrived in his head, clear and calm:
<
A young hobgoblin — taller than Atem's shoulder — stepped forward and bowed deeply. "Master," he said, voice steady, "we are yours. Teach us. We will learn."
Atem looked at each of them. They no longer looked like the frightened children he had met. Their eyes shone with a new sort of confidence. The direwolves circled and sat, their silence heavy and watchful.
He felt the weight of responsibility drop into his shoulders like a cloak. Naming them had changed their bodies, but it also bound them to him. He could use that power badly or well.
He chose the latter.
"Listen," Atem said, and his voice was calm but firm. "First, calm. Rigurd, gather everyone here. Make a circle. I will not command you to raid or steal. You will defend, trap, and hunt properly. We will build better shelters. We will make alarms. You will stand watch in pairs. Do you understand?"
"Yes!" Rigurd answered at once, voice loud with new strength. He scrambled to his feet and barked orders in quick goblin words. The hobgoblins moved fast. They grabbed tools, they tied ropes, they arranged the new direwolves to guard the perimeter. Rigurd's new voice had a rough authority to it that fit the role he held now.
Atem stood in the middle of the village, surrounded by his newly evolved hobgoblins and direwolves. He looked over the huts and makeshift houses, some still leaning and ready to collapse any moment. He crossed his arms, deep in thought.
"We need better houses," Atem finally said, his voice calm but firm. "Not just huts. Stronger designs, stronger foundations. If we want to survive, this village has to become more than just a place to sleep."
The goblins exchanged glances, nodding in agreement. That's when a hand suddenly shot up.
It was Gobta.
He stepped forward, looking almost the same as before, smaller compared to the other hobgoblins, but his eyes had a spark of confidence. "Master," Gobta said, clearing his throat, "we used to trade with the dwarves of Dwargon. They're master builders—no one in this land can match their skill. If you want better houses, we should try to bring them here."
The other goblins murmured among themselves, nodding as Gobta spoke.
Atem turned to him, raising an eyebrow. "Dwarves, huh? And where is this… Dwargon?"
Gobta straightened his back proudly. "It's a kingdom, not too far from here. Built inside a mountain. They have smiths, craftsmen, builders… anything we'd ever need. If we can get even one or two of them to help us, this village would change completely."
Atem thought about it for a moment, then gave a small nod. "And you know the way there?"
Gobta grinned nervously. "Of course! Well… mostly. I've been there a few times before. I can lead us."
Atem smirked. "Then it's settled. I'll go with you to Dwargon. If we're lucky, we'll find someone willing to come back and help us."
The goblins around them gasped at Atem's words, some whispering in excitement.
Rigurd, the elder, stepped forward with concern. "Master Atem, if you are going yourself… please take strong guards. The journey is dangerous. Monsters and bandits are always lurking on the road to Dwargon."
Before Atem could reply, Ranga padded forward, his shadowy fur rippling in the sunlight. The great direwolf lowered his head slightly and wagged his tail, his golden eyes glowing with loyalty. "Master, if you are leaving, then I will go with you. I will not disappoint you."
His voice was deep, calm, and clear—like a human speaking. The goblins looked at Ranga in awe, still not used to hearing a beast talk.
Atem placed his hand on Ranga's head. "Of course you're coming. I'll need your speed and strength." He glanced around, his eyes sharp. "We'll take one more direwolf too. If we ride together, the journey will be faster."
Ranga gave a single nod, his tail swishing with excitement.
Gobta puffed up his chest. "Then it'll be the three of us! Me, you, and Ranga. Don't worry, Master, I'll make sure we get there safely."
Atem chuckled. "You'd better. We leave tomorrow morning."
The goblins all bowed their heads in respect, their eyes filled with hope. For the first time, their future felt brighter.