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Thirty minutes before Malcolm's speech.

Serena Morey was struggling with a deep inner conflict. Her upbringing in a deeply religious family had instilled in her certain beliefs and values that now seemed to be crumbling around her. Known to her colleagues as argumentative and irascible, this aspect of her personality was only one side of her character.

From the age of fourteen, Serena had been actively involved in her local church's volunteer projects. She distributed food to the homeless, assisted refugees from other countries, and was a leading member of an organization that provided shelter to women fleeing physical abuse. Her relentless involvement rarely allowed her any real downtime, which often led to irritability that spilled over to others. Every Sunday, she sought forgiveness through confession, repenting for her aggressive behavior. Some might argue that she would have done better to apologize directly to those she had wronged, and they might have a point.

But Morey couldn't fully embrace such a position. Navigating corporate dynamics, especially as a woman in a leadership role, was no small feat. Her career, which spanned more than a decade by the time she joined Christopher Kensington's firm, taught her that maintaining a stern demeanor helped ward off pleas for leniency or empathy from her subordinates. Under her leadership, employees rarely shirked their duties for fear of reprisal. Moreover, her presence made figures like Mr. Harrington and Christopher seem more amiable, using Morey as a buffer for their own reputations.

Serena had known Malcolm since they were children. Their families attended the same church. And maintained a public facade of hierarchy, but they spent evenings as old friends outside of work. It was Harrington who had recommended Morey to Kensington, and her role as a 'shield' had been a key argument in her hiring.

"The Lord is all-merciful and all-powerful, why is this happening to me? Answer me, Almighty. I don't understand..."

"Serena, stop mumbling," Malcolm looked irritated at his assistant. Unlike his old acquaintance, the man was not moved by religion and only focused on the career ladder. Right now he was trying to deal with the situation and come up with a plan to maintain his position as leader. "Our survival is at stake here, and your hysteria is not helping."

"How can I calm down?! Tell me, Malcolm, how?! I didn't want to drink the blood of those poor animals! And you know what the worst part is?" Morey was on the verge of a nervous breakdown, trying to hold back her tears. "I was conscious! My body wouldn't obey, my hands dug into the flesh, and I felt physical pleasure. But my mind, it was like being beaten in a locked cage. I was screaming in my head, 'No, I don't want this, stop'. I'm so helpless... A sinner... A monster... How could I..."

"You've always been a little over-anxious," Harrington stroked her head. "Calm down. I know how to relieve you of this guilt."

"How?"

"William and his gang are too calm about everything that's going on. And I suspect it's because of the blood of the natives. If they've experienced their lives and emotions the same way we did after the deer blood, it explains their reaction."

"Are you out of your mind?! I'm not! I refuse to kill people and treat their bodies like those poor animals!"

"Quiet!" Malcolm hissed, stopped stroking her hair and grabbed his assistant's head. "Have you forgotten we're not alone here?"

From different corners of the room, people Harrington had settled in the building looked at them. The mood among them varied. Some were still recovering, while others were waiting for the Deputy Director to be free to discuss the next steps.

"Serena, dear, no one is going to kill anyone. Those idiots found a battlefield. They couldn't have drunk all the blood by themselves, so there must be more left. In order to survive, we have to be aware of our surroundings. That's the only way."

"I agree!" Chris Storwood, the owner of a photography studio, interjected. "We're naked, in the middle of the forest, and we don't know what the world is like around us. What to fear and what not to fear. We all need that information! I don't want to die just because I didn't know something!"

"And how are you going to get it?" Serena was getting irritated, anger beginning to overtake her panic. "Do you think William or George are that stupid? Knowledge is their greatest asset right now. And if you feed three hundred people the blood of the natives, it will only cause chaos and panic! Everyone will start acting on their own and pushing their own interests! We can't avoid a split in society, because trusting someone completely in such a situation is too serious a decision!"

"Calm down!" Harrington straightened and surveyed the room. "I have a plan."

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The meeting in the vampire village.

"And what exactly do you propose?" William emerged from the forest, accompanied by Arthur. "Going there together, in the middle of the night? Have you forgotten what I told you about the goblins?"

Malcolm smiled. The sniveling Lucas had run straight to his leader, just as the Deputy had planned.

"Who do you think I am, boy?" Harrington feigned outrage. "I cannot risk the lives of those around me. I propose a vote. Employees from each department or company that was in the building will choose a representative. You will accompany this small group to the site, they will verify your claims about this other world. After that, they will gradually inform others, and if possible, give them blood with information.

The crowd responded in agreement. Will frowned. He had just noticed a slight change. While previous meetings had been chaotic and the crowd disorganized, this was different. The people had broken up into small groups. The owner of the photo studio stood with his clients and employees. Security guards huddled together, casting uncertain glances at George, who had moved closer to the woods and was whispering to Arthur. Johnson rallied the logistics department, shouting something like, 'Malcolm's right.'

And the management department... For some reason, he was standing with HR, and his colleagues were led by Serena Morey, who had stepped forward. Unlike the others, she remained silent, her expression devoid of enthusiasm. Will didn't know the leaders of the other groups.

"So that's it," William clenched his fist. Malcolm had decided to use public opinion against him, using the principle of divide and conquer. Organizing the crowd into groups and making them believe they were electing their own representative, while Harrington had planted people loyal to him. "My answer is no."

The vampires began to murmur. Shouts of discontent came from the crowd.

"Willie, I don't want you to take this personally. You are too young for such a responsibility," Malcolm continued his prepared speech. "Our brave George can escort the small group himself! As a former military man, he's certainly up to the task..."

Unexpectedly, William approached a fallen tree and stopped a meter away from the deputy director, giving Harrington a stern look. The man felt the temperature around him rise slightly and began to sweat. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead and his mouth seemed unable to open. An unknown force pressed on his shoulders, making him fight the urge to drop to his knees.

"Malcolm. No one's going anywhere," William addressed the crowd, and the Deputy Director felt a sense of relief, but was too confused to interrupt his opponent. "As long as it's night, there could be goblins roaming the woods. They might not just attack; these creatures consume raw flesh. If they encounter your so-called representatives, they'll learn about this camp and bring a whole army here. And that's if their scouts haven't already found out about us."

"And what do you suggest we do? Leave in the morning? What if it's sunny again?" Serena stepped forward, her voice calm. The panic had passed. She tried not to think about her crisis of faith and concentrated on more pressing matters.

"Lucas and the others went hunting. They have weapons, so the hunting party can defend themselves," Will put his hand on his sword. "First we need to set up a guard around the village. Before we think about the blood of the locals, we need to survive this night. I hope no one objects? I propose that we appoint George as the leader of the security unit, our guards. Any objections?"

The vampires began to whisper. Harrington looked irritably at William, who raised his left hand but remained silent, echoing the manager's gesture. He had just praised the former military man, so he couldn't object now. The people began to repeat the gesture in agreement, and within a minute they were all standing with their hands raised.

"Unanimously agreed. This meeting is adjourned for the day. Please wait for the hunting party to return. In the meantime, you may choose your representatives."

William turned and walked over to George and Arthur.

"You, what are you doing?" As soon as William and his companions stepped a bit further into the forest, the newly appointed guard commander grabbed the boy by the elbow. "Have you lost your mind? Have you decided that because you have magical powers, you can intimidate those around you?"

"Let go." Will jerked his arm out of George's grasp. "Not magical powers, but Occamist powers. What else could I do? Malcolm is brainwashing them, affecting their minds at will. I gave him a warning. Now he'll know that his actions can have consequences."

"Consequences?!" George stepped closer and looked Will straight in the eye. "Listen to me, friend. You've started a dangerous game. Politics isn't just about governing! With your actions you're setting a precedent. Yes, using such methods on Malcolm may be justified, but what will the others think when it gets out? If someone disagrees with you, should they be afraid?"

"Why all of a sudden? Harrington is dangerous, so..."

"It doesn't matter why, Will! Anyone who doesn't share your views will start to fear for their lives! The logic is simple: if you did this to Malcolm, where are the guarantees that you won't do it to them? And you know what comes next? Fear. Anger. Distrust. People will fear you. Fear for their lives and the lives of their loved ones. Then they'll either run, fearing retribution, or they'll try to eliminate the threat."

"George is right." Arthur put a hand on the manager's shoulder. "I understand that after experiencing the memories of the natives, such methods may seem perfectly normal. But we're not them. Have you forgotten that the people around us are products of the twenty-first century?"

William looked at his friends in confusion. He had indeed overlooked something important. Immersed in the memories of Centurion Rollo, the young man was trying to emulate the leadership style of the great commanders as the veteran understood it.

"I didn't think of that... I'll be more careful."

"Power is a delicate thing," Arthur looked at the guard commander. "George, don't be too hard on the boy. He still needs to develop his own leadership style."

"You're right. Don't worry too much, William. Just be careful not to make mistakes like this again. Consider this a warning."

"I hear you and I take note," It's been a long time since he's been told off like that. Since his first day on the job. "George, go to your people. I am really worried about the goblins. I don't think the deserters just left the bodies of their comrades and ran back to camp to beat the sunset."

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"I'll set up the sentry posts. And you go to..."

The three men turned abruptly in the direction of the hunting lodge at the sound of rustling in the dark forest, pausing in anticipation of the source of the sound. A figure burst from the bushes and ran toward them. It was Lucas.

"This is fucked up."

"What happened?"

"They were attacked... There's blood everywhere... Rosa..."

"What about Rosa?! What about my wife!" Arthur grabbed the barista and began to shake him. "Speak clearly!"

Lucas pushed the agitated man away and took a deep breath, but his thoughts refused to form into coherent sentences. His heart was pounding and he couldn't calm down. The barista pointed a finger at wrist, and a thin cut appeared from which blood began to ooze. He abruptly stepped up to the Will and put his bloodied hand right on the manager's lips. William stared at Lucas in shock, and as the ruby red liquid entered his mouth, his eyes rolled back.

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Lucas

The hunting party was led by Rosa. They moved through the night-enshrouded forest as if it were daylight. The vampires were pleasantly surprised; their vision allowed them to see perfectly even in total darkness.

Lucas, unlike his companions, didn't think much about it. He still looked down at his leg from time to time and sometimes, seemingly by accident, touched it with his hand. This helped him to reassure himself that the limb was indeed in place. And each time, the young man felt a rush of joy, as if he had received a massive dose of serotonin.

After fifteen minutes, the vampires stopped at a small clearing.

"So, here's the thing. While we were walking, I analyzed the memories of the locals," Richard broke the silence. "I have some ideas about the magic."

Rosa turned to Richie. "Go ahead. But explain, how did you figure out the souls have gravity?"

"Well, first of all, it's basic knowledge. And, well..." Richard hesitated. "After work, I would sometimes look at educational bloggers online. Just a hobby."

"You're not as dumb as you seem at first glance," Rosa narrowed her eyes mischievously. "We have similar pastimes. Let me know what you come up with."

"Based on the stories of Saur and what Rollo witnessed throughout his life," Richie chattered excitedly, "There is a kind of energy in this world that is invisible to the naked eye of an ordinary person. The natives call it mana. In its normal, calm state, it doesn't interact physically. But Occamists have, let's say, super-heavy souls. A kind of gravitational field forms around them, and mana, when within its influence, can be controlled. Since mana is an intangible energy, an Occamist uses his will to give it a 'state'. For example, by thought alone, turning it into fire. Or a stream of air. Or something like telekinesis. But you can't create a solid substance out of it. But you can interfere with the structure of other objects. That's the theory. I tried it with a twig, but it didn't work. I think you have to understand the molecular structure of the substance. In short, Occamists control this mana based on their understanding of physical processes. Sometimes instincts help, but they are only good for telekinesis or a small flame. The biggest drawback is that when the mana goes beyond the reach of the gravitational field, it loses control and reverts to its quiet state. That's why it seems like the magic just disappears.

"I've come to the same conclusion," Rosa looked at her interlocutor. "If only we had a professor of physics or chemistry with us... But I can't remember anyone with such a degree being in the building. Certainly no one like that came to our cafe. And I still don't understand what he means by 'soul'?"

"The soul is indeed problematic. It seems he's referring to the soul in our conventional understanding. But how to probe it, as Saur did, remains unclear."

"All right, let's put that aside for now. Let's assume that the soul is indeed the soul, even if that's not very comforting. Then there's the whole question of what happens to the soul after death."

"Now, about the magicians. Unlike Occamists, who don't have supermassive souls, they have some sort of organ that allows them to accumulate mana. Apparently, it is a very rare genetic mutation. There are even fewer mages than Occamists. And there are no known cases of an Occamist who was also a mage."

"So, these phenomena are mutually exclusive?"

"Based on the information we have... Yes. Let's assume that for now. Unlike Occamists, mages can develop their organ by accumulating surrounding mana, and can only control what is already in them. Over time, with age and under the effect of accumulation, this organ expands. But they can't just use this energy at will. To cast a spell, a mage must create something like a formula with the mana."

"Formulas?"

"Let me try to give you a simplified example. Suppose we know the formula for gravity. F = m ⋅ g. The mage constructs an algorithm in which he specifies the distance to the target location. Then they define the dimensions of the area where the spell will be applied. They calculate how much mana is needed to change the values of 'm' and 'g'. Next, the mage creates a cube of mana in his hands with this algorithm inscribed on it. The mage channels the required amount of energy through the cube and transforms it according to the formula. The result is an area of increased gravity where enemies are 'crushed'.”

"Don't you think it's a bit complicated? Basically, you have to be a programmer, a physicist, a chemist, and you have to know the laws of this world. I doubt that Earth's formulas would work in a world where mana exists.

"All this has to be tested. It's not clear yet if we have the same organ as the magicians. I came to these conclusions by observing a centurion. He didn't quite understand what the mages were doing, but by watching the process, one could guess. They also have a kind of prepared spells. Simple algorithms that can be used without a cube. How that works, I have yet to understand."

"Well, at least now it's clear why Rollo hadn't heard about the magic academies."

"Yes, there are several schools, but they only teach a few basic things. Many mages are constantly studying the laws of this world and are not in a hurry to share their knowledge with competitors. Considering that the lifespan of Occamists and wizards exceeds one hundred and fifty years, depending on their power, they have a lot of secrets. The most they do is exchange knowledge or take apprentices. Also, every ten years, they hold various gatherings like conferences. The last one was two years ago.

"Considering how difficult it is to understand how any natural phenomenon works, it's no wonder that they have their specialties, just like scientists. Besides, their society is too closed. We should catch a mage; according to Rollo, there are more questions than answers.

Lucas listened carefully. He understood the gist of the dialog, but what to do with it all was not very clear. During the time he'd helped the vampires hiding from the sun in the village, things had seemed much easier. The barista helped as much as he could and was happy to receive words of thanks. Some people even asked him how he felt about the recent cataclysm and what prospects he saw.

The young man was about to join the conversation when Amelia suddenly yelped. Oliver rushed past Lucas and knocked the girl to the ground. Richard made several gurgling noises and looked around in confusion. A black-headed arrow protruded from his neck.

By the time the young man recovered from the shock, Rosa was running toward the source of the arrow with her sword drawn. Three small, hairy creatures, no taller than a human waist, emerged from the bushes.

"Goblins," Lucas grasped his spear tighter and ran after Arthur's wife.

Rosa waved her hand and one of the small creatures stumbled; the next second, she struck with her sword and decapitated the enemy. Lucas deflected a rolling head with his spear and stepped into a pool of blood. In a split second, the young man saw the entire life of a creature named Gobi, but he didn't focus on the memories and barely noticed what had happened.

But William couldn't help it; the memory of the blood drew him in deeper and deeper.

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Gobi

The great people of the Firstborn did not always live in the darkness of caves. Gobi's father often told stories of times past. Goblin clans lived throughout the surface regions, ruling the world as the first creations of the gods should. Their people worshipped Lin, the goddess of darkness, who had created these creatures in ancient times.

Gobi walked through a labyrinth of narrow tunnels, and after turning a corner, he found himself in a vast cave. The stone walls were dotted with strange, moss-like plants called kurot, which emitted a soft, pale light that illuminated a crowd of goblins. The creatures were on their knees, heads bowed to the cold ground, divided into two groups that formed a long hallway leading to a pedestal where Gobi's father stood.

The young goblin strode confidently through his bowed relatives.

"My son, as the high shaman of our tribe, I bless you for a successful hunt," Quartus, smeared with kurot, glowed softly. "The day after tomorrow, we will hold a great feast in honor of our Creator Mother. We must offer a worthy sacrifice on the altar."

"Father, I will not fail!" Gobi turned to the crowd. "I will bring back plenty of fresh meat, and if it is Lin's will, I will capture a human!"

The goblins rose to their feet, their joyous shouts filling the air. "Gobi, Gobi, Gobi!"

Quartus whispered to his son, "Do not take too many chances. I am old, and you are my only heir. After this festival, I will begin to teach you the art of the shaman; your soul has finally reached the necessary size.

Gobi nodded. Shamanism had been passed down through he family from generation to generation. It was one of the reasons the Kartiys Goblins had managed to survive in these mountains for so long. When the vile humans drove, he people from the surface, only Lin blessing helped protect their new home from invasion. The shaman's son had heard that other tribes of their kind still existed in the world, though not as numerous or powerful. Even human wizards had come, trying to capture and study the natives to understand the source of the goblins' magical abilities.

"I will be careful. Hunters! Follow me!"

A few dozen goblins marched confidently down the road. The night was their time, and there was no fear that the vile humans would stand in their way. Humans preferred to spend the night behind strong walls, not roaming the streets. Besides, all the villagers had long since left the nearest settlements. So the hunting party moved confidently through the forest. Gobi, the leader of the pack, suddenly stopped and crouched down close to the ground. Tuk ran up to him and muttered something in his ear. Then the goblins gestured urgently to the rest of the group, signaling them to approach.

It turned out that there had been a skirmish here. The ground was littered with marks from which the locals could deduce what had happened. Nothing out of the ordinary. Humans were also known to be somewhat noble, sometimes fighting among themselves. This was something the underground dwellers could relate to and understand - farming the land was considered a shameful task, but killing one's own kind was considered a noble and worthy pursuit, the true calling of the strong.

The road that humans sometimes traveled by day offered the goblins a rich bounty. In the middle of the road lay piles of human bodies, strangely naked, which was uncharacteristic of humans, who preferred to wrap their hideous bodies in cloth. The gods, as everyone knew, had not granted normal hair to these dishonorable creatures and had vented their wrath upon them. Only the proud goblins wore fur, as befitted the true first-born. And now the gods had smiled upon the brave hunters who had come in search of food. Such an abundance of prey, and only a few hours after reaching the cursed surface! Luck, true fortune, and divine favor. The feast in honor of Lin would be filled with true delicacies.

They celebrated their success on the spot by eating one of the deceased. For the first time in a long time, the group was completely satiated. The remaining corpses were butchered, not even stripped of their rags, and packed away. The small band of scavengers made their way home. Their families would be pleased.

As they returned, Gobi heard strange noises.

"Tuk, you take the group and carry the loot back to the tribe. Me and those two," the shaman's son pointed at two nearby goblins, "will go see what that noise is.

"Quartus told us never to split up!"

"My father is a shaman, not a hunter. I'm in charge here. Follow the order!"

Gobi and the two hunters broke away from the group and headed toward the source of the noise. The future shaman rubbed the amulet around his neck. This talisman, made by his father, had been blessed by Lin and would mask their scents and sounds at night. With these amulets, the goblins could easily hunt even the most timid of creatures.

As he approached the source of the sound, Gobi smiled. In a small clearing in the forest stood five completely naked humans. No nasty, tough armor. And in the middle of the night, when the humans could barely see around them. The shaman's son took a black arrow from his quiver, enchanted for silent flight. He handed it to one of the hunters and aimed it at the most talkative man. It seemed that the feast in honor of the festival would be magnificent...

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Lucas

The barista's spear plunged into the back of the last surviving goblin. He lifted the body with his weapon and tossed it aside to Richard. The man had already managed to remove the arrow from his wound and began to drink the blood of his fallen enemy. The hole in his throat visibly closed as the onlookers watched in amazement.

"Did you all see that?" Rosa looked at her companions. "The main force has returned to their tribe. If the chief's son doesn't return, they'll come looking for him!"

"Lucas, run to the camp! Sound the alarm!" Oliver checked Amelia for injuries and, finding her unharmed, turned to the barista. "We'll wait for Richie to recover. Meet us at the hunting lodge."

The barista was still in shock from what had happened. He had acted instinctively, relying on the expertise and knowledge of the locals. Only now did it dawn on him that he had just been part of a real deadly battle, and that a larger conflict was looming. A hard slap to the back of his head snapped him out of his daze.

"Don't just stand there!" Rosa's command was accompanied by a nudge. "Hurry! Run!"

And Lucas ran, his figure disappearing into the darkness of the night forest.

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Near the Vampire Village

"William!" Arthur shook the leader who had lost consciousness, "William, damn it!"

The manager finally opened his eyes.

"How long was I out?"

"You were on the ground convulsing for almost two minutes!"

William stood up. Or rather, he soared up. The man was full of energy.

"All right, we have an emergency. Your wife is fine." William decided to reassure Arthur first. "She will be waiting for us with the others near our house. George, gather the guard and prepare for battle. The goblins have found us."

"Understood. How many are there?" The former soldier acted decisively. "I will gather the people and then come for the weapons."

"About half a thousand. But not all of them will attack at once. Our people managed to kill the son of the high shaman. So we will only face the search party. And don't let anyone drink vampire blood. It's dangerous; it not only sucked me into Lucas' memories, but also into the memories he saw through the blood."

George nodded and left for the village.

"Let's go quickly, I want to see Rosa! You can tell me about the blood on the way." Arthur grabbed William and Lucas by the arms and dragged them to the hunting lodge.

image [https://i.ibb.co/93kZPd7/Goblins2.jpg]