The fires of celebration burned deep into the night, but by morning the village was stirring with renewed purpose. The goblins, once a ragged and fearful tribe, now carried themselves with a strange new energy. They had stood against warriors of the forest and survived. For the first time, pride glimmered in their eyes.
Luminus, perched on a smooth rock at the center of the square, observed them with quiet satisfaction. His body glowed faintly as the sun filtered through the trees.
So this is what it means to lead… he thought. Not just survival, but giving them something to reach for.
That morning, Rugo padded into the square, shaking dew from his dark fur. He lowered his head respectfully.
"Great One, the wolves await training."
Luminus bobbed. "Good. Gather the goblins too. From now on, both sides will train together."
The wolves were swift, but reckless. The goblins were strong, but clumsy. If they were to defend themselves against greater threats, they would need more than numbers—they would need discipline.
The clearing soon filled with the sounds of effort. Goblins swung wooden spears under Kairn's barking orders. Wolves darted between them, practicing maneuvers. At first it was chaos—goblins stumbling, wolves snapping too close to ankles. But as the sun climbed higher, a rhythm began to form.
Luminus watched, offering advice when needed. "Kairn, tighten your stance. Don't just swing—guide your strikes. Rugo, your pack must learn restraint. Teeth are last resorts, not first."
The goblin leader and wolf alpha exchanged a glance, then a nod. For the first time, they seemed to recognize each other not as rivals, but as comrades.
By midday, sweat drenched the goblins, and tongues lolled from the wolves. Yet instead of exhaustion, there was laughter. Training became not a burden, but a source of pride.
In the afternoon, Luminus turned inward to his own abilities. He had been evolving ever since gaining his name, but much remained unexplored.
He stretched his slime body over stones and scraps of metal, analyzing their composition. Minerals broke down into patterns he could understand—not in words, but in essence. When he focused, he could recombine them into crude shapes: arrowheads, simple knives, even nails.
"Useful," he murmured, forming a blade of hardened stone before letting it crumble. "Not perfect, but with practice…"
The goblin craftsmen soon gathered, wide-eyed.
"Great One, can you teach us?" one asked eagerly.
Luminus pulsed in amusement. "Maybe. But first, you'll teach me. Show me how you work wood and leather. I'll try to mimic it."
And so began a curious exchange—goblins hammering and stitching while a glowing slime copied their movements in miniature. Mistakes were plentiful, but laughter filled the air. For the first time, crafting became more than survival—it became creativity.
That evening, the village gathered again—not for feasting, but for something new. At Kairn's insistence, a patrol was formed: goblins with spears, wolves at their side. They would circle the perimeter in shifts, keeping watch for threats. It was crude, but organized—a sign of change.
As the sun dipped low, Luminus looked upon the huts, the fires, the people. A week ago, this had been nothing but fear and hunger. Now… it was beginning to look like a home.
"Great One," Kairn said, stepping forward. His voice held both respect and something new—conviction. "We are no longer just survivors. With you, we can become… more. Tell us—what should we call ourselves?"
The goblins fell silent, waiting. The wolves perked their ears. Even the youngest children watched with wide eyes.
Luminus hesitated. He had not thought of names, of titles. But then he remembered Sylvas's words—the balance of the forest, and how they had defied it.
"We are a village," Luminus said at last, glowing brightly. "Not prey, not scavengers. A village of goblins, wolves… and a slime."
The goblins erupted in cheers. Wolves howled to the night sky.
And though no name was chosen that night, the seed of identity had been planted. For the first time, they were not just a tribe—they were Luminus's people.
Yet as the fires burned low and sleep took the villagers, Luminus's mind stirred restlessly. He sensed it faintly at the edge of his awareness—a ripple in the forest, like whispers carried by the wind.
Rumors spreading. Eyes watching.
Their test had been passed, but their journey was only beginning.