The plan meeting carried the weight of fragile hope.
Aria walked beside her father through the goblin camp, chin high, every step deliberate.
With a single raised hand from Kalmar, the crowd parted, not out of fear, but respect earned through years of quiet steel.
Goblins watched them: wary eyes on the outsider (Ragnar).
They reached the long wooden slab scarred from countless knives and decisions.
Ragnar cleared his throat, palms damp despite the cool air.
"Here's what I see," Ragnar began, voice steadier than he felt.
"We spread word, carefully, of rich veins of iron and gemstones inside the volcano.
Orcs are greedy; they'll charge straight for it, thinking easy plunder.
We circle wide through the ash ridges, hit their rear, drive them forward until the crater swallows them."
Silence stretched. Kalmar leaned back, arms crossed, studying Ragnar like a blade he wasn't sure would hold an edge.
"Boy," he said finally, "where were you hiding during the Goblin–Kobold war?
Because if you'd been there with that mind, I'd have had no choice but to offer my daughter in peace-bond and call it a good day."
Aria's arm tightened around Ragnar's. Her warmth pressed against him, deliberate, teasing, but her eyes stayed sharp on her father.
"Mother chose well once," she said softly. "I intend to do the same. But not because I need protection."
She met Ragnar's gaze briefly, something fierce flickering there.
"I want to fight beside him, Father. Not wait in the longhouses while the men bleed for our future. You taught me strategy. Let me use it."
Kalmar's expression softened, just a fraction, pride warring with the old fear every parent carries.
"You sound more like her every day, girl. Stubborn as stone."
Ragnar shifted, heat rising in his face. "I'm… still standing right here."
Aria laughed, low and genuine, hugging Ragnar's arm tighter. "Good. I like you hearing it."
The plan passed. Whispers spread through the camp like dry grass catching fire.
By dusk, scouts confirmed it: the Orcs were mobilizing toward the volcano, bellowing and eager.
But something gnawed at Ragnar.
Bruuk had slipped away early. No hurry in his step, no backward glance. Too calm.
Ragnar had seen that kind of calm before, right before everything turned to blood.
Ragnar followed.
The forest swallowed sound. No crickets. No breeze. Ragnar's pulse thudded in his ears, louder with every step.
He told himself to turn back. This was reckless. Stupid.
But his feet kept moving, drawn by the same instinct that had kept him alive this long.
He stopped. Turned. That shrewd smile again.
Ragnar's stomach dropped.
"You really thought I'd walk alone?" Bruuk said.
The ground shivered. Once. Twice.
A shape detached from the trees, massive, armored, axe already drawn. Ra, the Orc chieftain himself.
Greenish skin scarred like old leather, eyes burning with the promise of violence.
Ra glanced at Bruuk. "This the one ruining everything?"
Bruuk nodded, glee twisting his features. "And Kalmar's daughter stayed behind. Easy pickings after we finish him."
Ra's lips peeled back. "Then let's end it."
He advanced. Axe rising.
Ragnar fumbled for the evolution chance in his interface, fingers trembling.
One clean hit from that axe and he'd be pulp. No heroic last stand, just a smear on the forest floor.
Fear clawed up his throat. What if the evolution failed? What if he died here, alone, useless?
The axe descended.
**Boom.**
Earth exploded. Dust choked the air.
Ragnar had twisted aside at the last heartbeat, close enough that the wind of it tore his shirt, close enough that pain lanced through his ribs anyway.
He coughed blood, vision swimming. One more like that…
Ragnar slammed the button of the evolution chance.
Fire roared through his veins. Bones cracked and lengthened. Muscles knotted, denser, heavier.
He shot up, 1.9 meters now, towering, claws like obsidian. Power surged, but so did terror.
This body felt wrong. Too big. Too strong.
What if he couldn't control it? What if he became the monster everyone already thought outsiders were?
Ra's eyes widened. "Evolution!"
He charged.
Ragnar dodged, barely. Claws raked his armored neck; sparks flew, no blood.
Ra's fist crashed into Ragnar's jaw. Iron flooded his mouth. Legs buckled.
Ragnar couldn't win strength against strength.
Ra's axe slowed him in close quarters, he hurled it aside and came bare-handed.
They grappled. Every blow Ra landed cracked something inside Ragnar.
Ragnar's punches barely dented him. Blood slicked his hands, his face. Doubt screamed: You're not enough. You never were.
So Ragnar stopped fighting smart.
Ragnar let him hit him.
Pain detonated in his chest, ribs giving way. But Ra's guard dropped. Neck exposed.
Ragnar roared and tore.
Hot blood sprayed. Ra staggered, hands clawing at the wound, eyes wide with shock and something almost like respect. He collapsed.
Bruuk tried to run.
Ragnar lunged. Claws found his throat before he finished begging.
Silence returned, thick, heavy.
Ragnar's hands shook so badly he nearly dropped the heads he severed.
The metallic reek of blood coated his tongue, his skin.
He wanted to vomit. To scream. To run and never stop.
How many times would he see their faces when he closed his eyes? How long before the shaking stopped?
Ragnar carried the trophies back anyway.
Aria saw Ragnar first. Her eyes widened, shock, then something warmer.
"Ragnar…?" she breathed, stepping closer. She had to tilt her head now to meet his gaze. "You're… taller."
Then her eyes widened seeing the blood in his hands, "Wait…are you fine? Let me check on you!"
Aria rushed at Ragnar checking every inch in his body, then sighed with relief once she knew nothing happened to him.
She reached out, fingers brushing his arm, tentative, then firm. Her eyes finally flicked to the bag.
Ragnar handed it over.
She looked. Gasped. Then looked back at him, fierce pride lighting her face.
"You saved us. All of us. When the Orcs see Ra's head, their spine breaks."
She rose on tiptoes and pressed a quick, fierce kiss to his cheek. "Thank you."
Kalmar arrived. Saw the heads. Jaw clenched. "That snake Bruuk accused you while selling us out himself."
He met Ragnar's eyes. "You have our gratitude. More than words."
Ragnar exhaled. "Then my part's done."
Ragnar turned to leave.
Aria caught his arm, strong, unyielding.
"No." Her voice was steel wrapped in velvet. "We're noble goblins. We don't send saviors away without honor. Stay tonight.
There'll be a banquet." She squeezed, chest brushing his again, intentional, but her eyes held something deeper.
"And tomorrow… I fight with you. Not behind you. I won't be the daughter left weaving while you bleed.
I want my father to see me stand as his equal. As your equal."
Her cheeks flushed, but she didn't look away.
Kalmar caught the look, gave a subtle thumbs-up, and melted into the shadows.
Alone now, Aria's fingers stayed on Ragnar's arm. The air between them thickened, charged, intimate.
Ragnar managed a crooked smile despite the ache in every bone.
"Alright. I'll stay. I want to see what goblin hospitality really means."
She leaned in, breath warm against his ear. "Careful what you wish for. I might make you never want to leave."
The hut door closed behind them. The world narrowed to just this: her gaze, steady and wanting, and the quiet promise that neither of them had to face the next fight alone.