As Ashes walked away from the arena, the weight of his mother’s words still heavy on his mind, he couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of emotions. Elliza walked beside him, her expression a blend of concern and guilt. She had seen the entire confrontation and felt responsible for the situation he now found himself in.
“I’m sorry, Master Ashes,” she said quietly, her voice tinged with regret. “I didn’t mean to get you into trouble. I should have stopped you.”
Ashes chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Elliza, it’s not your fault,” he replied, his tone light. “After all these years, I got in trouble for the first time in this life over something so silly. It’s almost funny.”
Elliza looked at him, confusion evident in her eyes. “Vhat do you mean, Master Ashes? Vhat are you talking about?”
Ashes quickly dismissed her concern with a wave of his hand. “Nothing, nothing,” he said, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Just thinking out loud.”
She sighed, still feeling the weight of her perceived responsibility. “I just… I feel like if I hadn’t suggested you challenge Varg, none of this vould have happened.”
He stopped walking and turned to face her, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Elliza, listen to me. It wasn’t your fault. I chose to challenge Varg because I wanted to prove something. And my mother was right. I was trying to embarrass him, not just beat him.”
Elliza looked up at him, her eyes filled with anxiety. “But now you have to train vith the other kids. Vhat if they try to hurt you?”
Ashes smiled gently, appreciating her concern. “I’ll be fine. It’s an opportunity to learn and grow. Besides, my mother wouldn’t have suggested it if she didn’t think it was necessary. I need to prove that I can handle myself, not just in combat, but in everything.”
She nodded slowly, though the worry in her eyes didn’t entirely fade. “Just promise me you’ll be careful.”
“I promise,” Ashes replied, his tone sincere. “I’ll be careful. And thank you for always looking out for me.”
They continued walking towards his next scheduled activity for the day, a council meeting in the afternoon. Despite the challenges ahead, Ashes felt a renewed sense of determination. He would face whatever came his way and prove to himself and everyone else that he was not just strong, but wise and capable as well.
As they walked down the corridor, the stone walls echoing with the distant sounds of the bustling Goliath stronghold, Ashes turned to Elliza with a thoughtful expression. "How is your training going? I've been meaning to ask."
Elliza glanced at him, her face lighting up slightly. "It is going vell, Master Ashes. My private trainer says I am improving."
Ashes smiled, genuinely pleased. "That's good to hear. You remember the promise I made when we first met, right? I told you I'd help you get stronger."
Elliza's thoughts drifted back to that fateful day, and her expression softened as she recalled the memory.
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Six-year-old Elliza sat in a filthy cage with twelve other girls, all older than her. The iron bars were cold and unforgiving, and the straw-covered floor did little to cushion the discomfort. The cage was cramped, the stench of unwashed bodies, sweat, and human waste heavy in the air. They were all being primed for sale, but she was the only child. Her mother had been taken away two tribes ago, and she had seen glimpses of what they were doing to the slaves.
She sat in the corner of the cage, her small frame shivering from both fear and malnourishment. Her clothes were tattered rags, and her body was covered in dirt and bruises. The other girls huddled together, whispering in hushed tones, their faces gaunt and eyes hollow. Elliza felt herself desensitizing, her mind retreating to a place where the horrors around her couldn't reach. She was sick, her body weak and frail from lack of food and proper care.
The men who kept them rarely spoke, and when they did, it was in harsh, guttural tones. They treated the girls like livestock, prodding and inspecting them with cold, calculating eyes. Elliza had learned to stay quiet, to make herself as small and invisible as possible.
Suddenly, she saw a Goliath toddler moving towards the cage. He was barely more than a baby, but there was something different about him. His dark hair framed a determined face, and his piercing blue eyes seemed to see right through the grime and fear. He approached the cage with an air of curiosity and purpose, his small hand reaching through the bars.
Elliza looked up, her eyes meeting his. The toddler reached out and grabbed her finger, his tiny hand surprisingly strong. In that moment, something changed. Elliza felt a spark of hope ignite within her, a glimmer of light in the darkness.
The toddler's eyes held a promise, a silent vow that he saw something in her that no one else did. He didn't see a slave or a broken child. He saw a person worth saving, worth protecting. That was the moment she met Ashes, though she didn't know his name at the time. From that day on, she pledged her life to protecting the boy who had given her hope, no matter the cost.
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Elliza looked at Ashes, her eyes filled with gratitude and determination. "I vill always protect you, Master Ashes," she said softly, her voice thick with emotion. "No matter vhat."
Ashes nodded, his heart swelling with appreciation for his loyal friend. "And I'll always be there for you, Elliza. We're in this together."
Elliza glanced around the hallway, her eyes narrowing slightly as she scanned their surroundings. "Ve should keep moving," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Ve don't vant to be late for ze council meeting."
Ashes chuckled, his mood lightening. "You know, you're more worried about this meeting than I am."
Elliza rolled her eyes, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "Someone has to be responsible, Master Ashes. If it vas up to you, ve'd be late to everything."
Ashes grinned, appreciating her playful banter. "You might be right about that. But that's why I have you, to keep me in line."
Elliza's smile widened, and she gave him a gentle shove. "Don't get too cocky. Just because you von a fight doesn't mean you can slack off."
Ashes laughed, enjoying the rare moment of levity. "Alright, alright. Let's get to the council meeting before they start without us."
They continued walking, the tension between them easing slightly. Despite the challenges ahead, Ashes felt a renewed sense of determination. He would face whatever came his way and prove to himself and everyone else that he was not just strong, but wise and capable as well.
As they approached the large wooden doors of the council chamber, Elliza turned to him, her expression serious once more. "Remember, Master Ashes, stay calm and listen. They vill respect you more if you show them you can handle yourself."
Ashes nodded, taking a deep breath. "I know. Thanks, Elliza."
With that, they pushed open the doors and stepped into the council chamber, ready to face the next challenge together.
Zagathar Ironvein stood at the head of the massive stone table, his presence commanding the respect of everyone in the cavernous hall. The Gathering of Stone was a rare and solemn event, bringing together the four main Goliath tribes and their lieutenants to discuss matters of grave importance. This year, the gathering was hosted by Zagathar’s tribe, and the air was thick with tension as tribal leaders took their seats around the table.
The hall was lit by flickering torches, casting long, ominous shadows on the stone walls. The murmurs of heated debate echoed through the chamber, creating a palpable sense of unease. Zagathar’s deep blue eyes, framed by strands of dark hair streaked with gray, scanned the room as he listened to the other leaders speak. Despite the tension, he wore a carefully maintained facade, smiling warmly at his son, Ashes, who had slipped quietly into the room to observe the proceedings.
To Zagathar’s right sat Taruk, the leader of the Ironclad tribe. A burly Goliath with a voice like thunder, Taruk pounded his fist on the stone table, demanding attention. “We cannot stand alone against the Theocracy! Their armies grow stronger by the day, and if we do not unite, we will fall, one tribe after another.”
Across from him, Durak of the Frostbite tribe scoffed loudly. Known for his contrarian nature, he was quick to challenge Taruk. “Typical fearmongering. Perhaps if we had a better strategy rather than panicking like children, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”
At Durak’s side was his lieutenant, Irina, a quiet and inquisitive female who remained silent but watchful. Her sharp eyes took in every detail, ready to analyze and advise when necessary.
Next to Zagathar sat his younger brother, Balak, leader of the Stonefist tribe. He chimed in with his usual independent stance. “While I see merit in uniting, we must remember the slight from the Ironclads. We cannot blindly follow them without proper retribution.”
Seated beside Balak was his lieutenant, Rasha, an unhinged Goliath known for her wild and unpredictable nature. She was a mixture of Harley Quinn and League of Legends’ Jinx, adding an unsettling presence to the room. Her eyes gleamed with excitement at the prospect of conflict.
At the far end of the table was Morgath, the head of the Bloodfang tribe, whose lands were directly under threat. He spoke with desperation, his eyes pleading for support. “This is not a matter of old grudges or pride! The Theocracy is encroaching on our lands, enslaving our people. We need a united front, or we will be crushed!”
Morgath’s lieutenant, Torvin, who was also Zagathar’s estranged brother, sat beside him. His presence was a thorn in Zagathar’s side, and the tension between them was palpable. Torvin’s face was a mask of determination, but his eyes betrayed the personal vendetta that colored his motivations.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
Zagathar raised his hand, silencing the room. “We have faced threats before,” he began, his voice calm but firm. “And we have always overcome them through our strength and unity. The Theocracy is no different. We will not bow to their demands, nor will we allow them to encroach upon our lands.”
Durak sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Unity? From you, Zagathar? You speak of unity, yet you hold grudges as fiercely as the rest of us.”
Balak leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. “Perhaps if the Ironclads hadn’t betrayed us years ago, we wouldn’t be in this position. Trust must be earned, not demanded.”
Morgath slammed his fist on the table, his frustration boiling over. “While you bicker, our people suffer! We need action, not petty arguments.”
Taruk growled, his voice rising. “And what would you have us do, Morgath? March into battle without a plan? We need to be strategic.”
Rasha giggled, her voice a chilling contrast to the heated debate. “Oh, I love it when we fight. Makes everything so much more… interesting.”
Irina finally spoke, her voice soft but firm. “We need to gather intelligence first. Understand their movements, their strengths, and weaknesses. Only then can we strike effectively.”
Torvin stood, his eyes locked on Zagathar. “Enough talk. We need action. Every moment we delay, more of our people are taken. Are you so blinded by pride that you can’t see that?”
Zagathar’s gaze hardened, but he kept his tone measured. “I understand your plight, brother. But rushing into this without a plan will only lead to more death. We need to be strategic, use our knowledge of the land to our advantage.”
Torvin’s eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward, his voice dripping with disdain. “Address me properly, Zagathar. I am the representative of the Bloodfang tribe, not just your brother. Show the respect my position demands.”
A tense silence fell over the hall as Zagathar’s expression darkened. The normally composed chieftain clenched his fists, his knuckles whitening. Slowly, deliberately, he rose from his seat, the atmosphere thick with unspoken challenge.
“You want respect, Torvin?” Zagathar’s voice was low, a dangerous edge to it. “Then act like someone who deserves it.”
The room erupted into chaos. Lieutenants and tribal leaders alike drew their weapons, the sharp sound of steel ringing out. Only Zagathar’s lieutenant remained still, watching the escalating tension with wary eyes.
Taruk of the Ironclad tribe growled, hefting his massive axe. “Finally, some action. Let’s settle this like true Goliaths.”
Durak sneered, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword. “Always so quick to violence, Taruk. Typical Ironclad brute.”
Balak, Zagathar’s younger brother, stood with his mace in hand, eyes blazing with a mixture of anger and excitement. “You always were a hypocrite, Zagathar. Preaching unity while holding onto grudges.”
Rasha, Balak’s unhinged lieutenant, giggled maniacally, twirling a dagger in her hand. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”
Morgath’s eyes flickered with frustration and fear. “This is madness! We should be uniting against our true enemy, not fighting amongst ourselves.”
Irina, Durak’s quiet and inquisitive lieutenant, observed the scene with cold calculation, her hand resting on the hilt of her dagger.
Torvin, undeterred by the growing hostility, smirked at Zagathar. “This is the problem with you, Zagathar. Always trying to maintain control, even when it’s slipping through your fingers.”
The final straw came when Taruk, ever the instigator, stepped forward and swung his axe at Balak. The blow was deflected, but it was enough to spark a full-blown brawl.
Zagathar roared in anger, his facade of calm shattered. He lunged at Torvin, fists swinging. Around them, the Gathering of Stone descended into chaos. Weapons clashed, and the hall was filled with the sounds of grunts and cries of pain.
Taruk and Balak were locked in a brutal exchange, each trying to overpower the other. Rasha darted through the fray, her movements quick and erratic, slashing at anyone who came too close. Morgath fought defensively, trying to fend off multiple attackers, while his lieutenant, Torvin, engaged Zagathar in a fierce struggle.
Durak moved with calculated precision, striking at weak points and dodging incoming blows. Irina stayed close, using her smaller stature and agility to avoid direct confrontations, instead targeting exposed flanks.
Ashes stood in the crowd, his eyes wide with shock. The raw violence and chaos unfolding around him were unlike anything he had experienced before. Despite growing up in a rough environment, this level of brutality and savagery was beyond his comprehension. Elliza, the only non-Goliath in the room, stayed close to him, her eyes sharp and focused. She moved with precision, knocking out anyone who dared approach them. Twelve unconscious bodies formed a circle around them, testament to her fierce protectiveness.
Korin, Zagathar’s lieutenant, finally stepped in. With a commanding shout, he tried to restore order, his voice carrying an unyielding authority. “Enough!”
An incredible pressure akin to 100 times their normal gravity descended upon the room, forcing everyone to the ground. The fighting stopped immediately, weapons clattering to the floor as the Goliaths struggled to breathe under the immense weight.
This was Korin’s Gravity Control (A) skill at work, an ability that demonstrated his unmatched power. The sheer force of his command left everyone in stunned silence, unable to move.
Korin’s voice cut through the oppressive atmosphere. “This is not how we resolve our differences. We are Goliaths, not mindless beasts. Rise, and remember who you are.”
Slowly, the pressure eased, and the Goliaths managed to stand, shaken but unharmed. The tension in the room remained, but the immediate threat of violence had passed. Under Goliath law, as long as no one had died, the incident would be considered a non-issue.
Zagathar glared at Torvin, his anger barely contained. “This is far from over. But we will settle this with our minds, not our fists.”
Torvin sneered but said nothing, his gaze shifting to Korin with a mixture of respect and resentment. The other leaders exchanged wary looks, understanding that the balance of power had shifted. Korin’s intervention had proven that brute strength alone was not enough to lead—it required wisdom and restraint as well.
Ashes, still reeling from the intense display of violence, felt a strange mixture of fear and admiration. These were his people, capable of such raw power and ferocity, yet also bound by a code that demanded strength and control. He glanced at Elliza, who gave him a reassuring nod, her eyes reflecting the same determination that burned within him.
As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the stone hall, the Gathering of Stone came to an end. The atmosphere, once thick with tension and hostility, was now subdued. Leaders and lieutenants from the four tribes murmured among themselves, their voices hushed as they made their way out of the hall. The air was filled with a mix of relief and lingering animosity.
Ashes sat on the podium, his legs swinging idly. His father, Zagathar, sat on the steps below him, yet his massive frame brought them nearly eye to eye. The chieftain’s face, once fierce and unyielding, now showed signs of exhaustion and contemplation.
Zagathar looked up at his son, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “So, what did you think of all that, Ashes?”
Ashes hesitated for a moment, his mind replaying the chaotic events of the meeting. “I think… I think there could have been a better way to collaborate. It felt like everyone was more interested in fighting each other than solving the problem.”
Zagathar nodded, his expression thoughtful. “You’re right. It’s a flaw we’re all guilty of. Stubbornness runs deep in our veins, and it’s something I struggle with too. We have to get better at it, all of us.”
Ashes’ gaze swept over the dispersing crowd. “So, what happens now? Did we come to any agreement at all?”
Zagathar sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. “No, we didn’t. Each clan had their reasons for refusing to help.”
As the gathering disbanded, it became clear that the meeting had ended in failure. Each tribe had their own reasons for not agreeing to assist with the encroaching threat:
Torvin and the Bloodfang tribe refused because of their pride. Torvin couldn’t see past his grudge against Zagathar, and his stubbornness blinded him to the bigger picture.
Taruk and the Ironclad tribe, always eager for a fight, didn’t see this as their battle. They believed the threat was too far removed from their territory to be worth their effort.
Balak and the Stonefist tribe, led by Zagathar’s own brother, refused to cooperate because of past grievances. Balak saw this as an opportunity to settle old scores rather than address the real danger.
Morgath of the Icepeak tribe, the one under threat, was desperate for help, but his pleas fell on deaf ears. The other tribes saw him as weak, unable to defend his own land, and were too short-sighted to realize that if one tribe fell, the rest would follow.
Ashes listened intently, his respect for his father’s burdens growing. “So, what do we do now?”
Zagathar met his son’s eyes, a flicker of determination igniting within them. “We prepare, Ashes. We get stronger, smarter. And we find a way to unite these tribes, even if it means changing the way we do things. One day, you’ll understand that leadership isn’t just about strength. It’s about wisdom, and knowing when to bend without breaking.”
Ashes nodded slowly, absorbing his father’s words. The gravity of the situation weighed heavily on him, but it also fueled a resolve deep within. He would become the leader his father hoped for, one who could bridge the gaps and bring their people together. For now, though, he would watch, learn, and grow.
As father and son sat together, the glow of the setting sun casting long shadows across the room, a sudden chime echoed in Ashes’ mind, a notification appearing before his eyes in a shimmering display.
Ding! You have unlocked the class: Warlord.
Ashes’ eyes widened in surprise, and he couldn’t help but say it out loud, “Warlord? What does that mean?”
Zagathar, still deep in thought, looked at his son with confusion. “Warlord? What are you talking about, Ashes?”
Realizing his mistake, Ashes quickly scrambled to cover up. “Uh, it’s nothing, Father. Just… something I need to look into. I’ll take care of it.”
Before Zagathar could probe further, Ashes jumped off the podium, landing lightly on his feet. “I need to go, Father. There’s something I need to do.”
Elliza, ever watchful, bowed respectfully to Zagathar. “Excuse us, Chieftain.”
Ashes and Elliza hurried away, their footsteps echoing softly in the large, empty hall. As Zagathar watched them go, his mind raced with thoughts and questions. The torches on the walls flickered, casting dancing shadows that seemed to reflect his inner turmoil. He couldn’t help but marvel at the changes he had seen in his son. Ashes was growing stronger, not just in body, but in spirit and mind as well. He wondered if this new development was a sign of things to come, a harbinger of the leader Ashes might become.
Turning his gaze to the aftermath of the melee, Zagathar’s eyes fell on the pile of unconscious bodies surrounding the spot where Ashes had stood. Bloodstains and bruises marked the place, evidence of the ferocity of the fight. A smirk tugged at his lips, a rare display of pride and validation. He thought back to all those years ago, when he had made the controversial decision to let Ashes live despite the odds stacked against him. Many had doubted his choice, but now, seeing the potential and strength in his son, Zagathar felt a deep sense of satisfaction.
The room slowly emptied as the last of the warriors filed out, muttering amongst themselves about the chaotic meeting. The air was thick with tension and the lingering scent of sweat and blood. Zagathar stood up, his towering frame casting a long shadow. He walked to the edge of the podium, looking out over the hall that had borne witness to so much conflict and turmoil.
“Maybe he will be the leader we need,” Zagathar mused to himself, his voice a low rumble in the quiet room. “Maybe he will bring about the change our people have long awaited.”
As the hall emptied and the last echoes of the Gathering of Stone faded, Zagathar allowed himself a moment of quiet reflection. He knew the road ahead would be fraught with challenges, but with Ashes by his side, he felt a renewed sense of hope for the future of their tribe. The flickering torchlight seemed to burn a little brighter, casting a warm glow on the path that lay ahead.
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