Grax's body was still pooling with blood as I began to establish my new dominion. The goblins huddled in the corner of the cage, their eyes shifting between the body of their old leader and the small figure now standing over him.
"Zak," I called out to the male goblin with the scar over his right eye. He flinched, his thin body trembling at the mention of his name.
"Y-yes, Leader?"
Leader. The title flowed naturally from his lips, as if my dominion had been building for years. Good.
Fear was a solid foundation for building loyalty.
"Take the flesh from Grax's arm. Cut it off and share it with the others." I pointed at the corpse with the tip of my spear. "Start with the weakest."
Zak's eyes widened. "But… cannibalists—"
"Survive or die." My voice cut through his protests with the sharpness of a knife. "There is no room for moral luxury here. What matters is strength."
In my past memories, I remembered the starving soldiers at the Siege of Darkmoor. Those who were willing to eat anything were the ones who survived. Those who still held on to noble ideals became corpses within a week.
Zak nodded hastily, trembling claws tearing flesh from Grax's arm. The female goblin who had nearly been killed—Nika—crawled toward him, eyes filled with a mixture of fear and gratitude.
"Thank you," she whispered as Zak handed her the piece of flesh.
"Don't thank me," I replied, wiping the blood from my spear. "Thank the power that made you worthy of living."
I spun around, facing the other four surviving goblins. Skral, a stout goblin with broken fangs.
Vex, the youngest with the sharp eyes of a weasel.
Grek, who was missing two fingers on his left hand.
And Nim, a female with skin scarred by whips.
"Listen well," I said, my voice filling every corner of the cage. "Grax rules with empty fists and empty ego. I will rule with strategy and true strength."
I stepped between them, my spear swinging casually at my side. "You are weak because you think like individuals. Lone wolves starve to death. Packs hunt dragons."
Vex lifted his head, curiosity flashing in his eyes.
"What do you offer?"
Smart. He would be useful.
"Strength," I answered simply. "Not just to survive, but to thrive. To become more than just meat for the arena."
I crouched down, drawing their attention to the same level. "I will teach you how to fight. How to think. How to transform from prey to predator."
Skral frowned. "You are just one goblin. How can you—"
My spear shot forward, the tip stopping just short of his right eye. He froze, breath catching in his throat.
"I am not 'just one goblin,'" I whispered, voice low but menacing. "I am the one who killed Grax with one move. I am the one who will lead you out of this cage."
I drew my spear, Skral backing away quickly. "Next question?"
Silence. Then Nim spoke up, her voice hoarse from lack of use.
"What should we do?"
"First, you will learn discipline." I stood up, taking command. "No more fighting over food. No more petty squabbles. Every decision goes through me."
I pointed to Zak. "You will be my right hand. Your job is to make sure my orders are carried out."
Then to Vex. "You will watch the guards. Learn their patterns, their habits, their weaknesses."
Vex's eyes lit up with enthusiasm. "I've noticed a few things—"
"Good. Report back later." I turned to the others.
"Skral, you will train your physical strength with Grek. Nim, you will help Nika recover and become strong."
They nodded, a new energy in their movements. No longer a defeated herd, but a unit beginning to form.
"Second," I continued, "you will learn to fight. Not like wild animals, but like warriors."
I began demonstrating basic stances, how to hold improvised weapons, how to move to maximize range. Simple techniques I had taught new recruits in the Northern Legion.
"Remember," I said, adjusting Zak's posture, "in combat, brains are the best weapon. Muscles follow."
Within an hour, the transformation was already apparent. Their movements were more coordinated, more purposeful. Eyes that had once been blank now had focus.
An orc in the next pen watched with a curious expression. "Never seen goblins organize like this,"
he muttered to the dwarf next to him.
"There's something wrong with that little one," the dwarf replied, his dirty beard shaking. "Goblins aren't supposed to be that smart."
Their comments did not escape my notice. If the other races were already taking notice, our transformation was quite noticeable. That could be an advantage or a problem.
I decided to take a chance.
"Vex," I called softly. "Your report on the guards."
He crept closer, eyes gleaming with information.
"There are three shifts. The first is the most disciplined, the second the laziest. The third…" he smiled slyly, "the third is often drunk."
"Routine?"
"They change posts every four hours. Pen checks every two hours, but they're not thorough. And…" he hesitated.
"Tell me."
"The guard captain, Jorik, has a habit of taking slaves for 'private interrogations' in the back room."
Valuable information. Weaknesses to exploit.
"Good," I murmured. "Keep an eye out. Report any changes."
I turned to the others. "Training is over for now. Zak, distribute the remaining food evenly. Grek and Skral, begin your physical strengthening routine.
Nim, help Nika with her wounds."
They moved with surprising efficiency. No longer a collection of desperate individuals, but a functioning team.
In the back of my mind, I felt a familiar sense of satisfaction. Building an army from scratch, turning the weak into the strong—this was what I did best as Marcus Thornfield.
But the satisfaction was short-lived.
Heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor, approaching our cage. Not the usual guard steps—these were heavier, more purposeful. I turned to see Jorik, the guard captain, standing in front of the cage, his eyes narrowed.
His gaze swept over our goblin horde, stopping on Grax's corpse, then shifting to me. There was suspicion in his eyes, like a predator smelling something amiss.
"Interesting," he murmured, his deep voice echoing in the cramped space. "Very interesting."
He stepped closer, his eyes never leaving mine. "A goblin who killed his own leader. A goblin who organized his pack. A goblin who…" he smiled coldly, "behaved like a human."
The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. The guards were starting to get suspicious of this 'unusual' goblin.