The morning air was thick with tension. The mist hung low over the goblin settlement, swirling like restless spirits between the crude huts. Leav stirred awake, his mind still running through the events of the previous day—the victory over the Red Python, the envious glares of the older goblins, and the quiet power shifting in the tribe's hierarchy.
Something was coming. He could feel it.
By the time he reached the communal fire pit, Yorl, Weal, Frot, and Bout were already there, their expressions uneasy. Bout, as always, remained unreadable, but Leav caught the way his fingers twitched near his belt, as if expecting danger.
Then they arrived.
Trek, the shaman, and Tear, the hobgoblin enforcer, cut through the crowd with the authority of those who ruled through blood and fear. Trek's twisted staff, topped with a bleached skull, radiated an eerie presence. Tear, in contrast, was all brute force—his muscles tensed beneath scarred leather armor, his spiked club resting against his shoulder like an executioner's blade.
"Leav." Trek's rasping voice carried over the murmuring goblins. "You and your… group… have proven capable. But capability is not leadership. Before you claim authority, you must prove your worth in the Trial of Blood."
A wave of whispers spread through the gathered goblins. The Trial of Blood was not a test to be taken lightly. It was a brutal rite, a proving ground where strength, cunning, and ruthlessness determined survival. Many goblins who entered never walked out.
Tear smirked. "The Trial is simple. You fight. You win. Or you die."
Leav felt his muscles coil instinctively. He had anticipated resistance, but not this soon. He caught Yorl's clenched fists, the flicker of concern in Weal's eyes, and the cold calculation on Frot's face. Even Bout seemed… tense.
Then the arena was set, a crude circle of flattened dirt surrounded by a jeering crowd.
Leav stepped inside.
His opponent followed.
Drak.
A brute of a goblin, easily a head taller than Leav, his body packed with thick, scarred muscle. A veteran of past trials, Drak had claimed his place through sheer, overwhelming force. His smirk was pure arrogance.
"So, the runt thinks he can lead?" Drak growled. "I'll break you."
Leav didn't respond. He had already started calculating. Drak was a brawler—strong but predictable. If Leav tried to match him in raw power, he'd be flattened. But brute force wasn't his strength. Adaptation was.
"Let the Trial begin!" Trek's voice rang out.
Drak charged like a battering ram.
Leav moved.
Sprint activated.
He sidestepped at the last moment, feeling the rush of air as Drak's massive fist narrowly missed his head. The brute stumbled slightly, momentum carrying him forward.
Leav struck fast—sharp jabs to the ribs, quick and precise. Drak barely flinched.
Too tough. That won't work.
Drak spun, swinging wildly. Leav ducked, rolling under the blow. The brute was getting frustrated. Good.
The sun. It was rising behind Leav. That meant Drak was staring into it.
Leav baited him, feigning exhaustion, making sure to position himself where the light would blind his opponent.
Drak lunged.
Leav dropped low, sweeping his leg forward.
Drak stumbled again, his eyes squinting from the glare.
This was his moment.
Leav darted in, hammering rapid strikes to Drak's face. The brute roared, but his movements were sluggish.
Then—pain.
A fist like a boulder slammed into Leav's chest. He flew back, gasping as the air was forced from his lungs. His vision blurred.
Drak didn't let up. He grabbed Leav by the throat, lifting him high.
The pressure increased.
Leav's vision darkened.
No… I won't die here.
Then, something inside him changed.
A surge of heat flooded his veins. His skin felt tougher, his muscles locking into place.
Adaptive Mutation Activated.
Leav lashed out. His knee slammed into Drak's groin.
The brute howled, dropping him.
Leav hit the ground and rolled to his feet, ignoring the pain. His momentary mutation was fading, but it had given him what he needed.
Drak was hunched over, clutching himself in agony.
Leav didn't hesitate.
He sprinted forward, leaping into the air—
—And brought his heel crashing down on Drak's skull.
The impact echoed through the arena.
Drak crumpled.
Silence followed.
Then, a notification flashed in Leav's mind:
New Passive Skill Unlocked: Reinforced Muscles – Slightly increases physical resistance.
He stood over Drak's unconscious form, heart hammering. He had won.
The goblins erupted into a cacophony of howls and cheers. Even the older goblins, the ones who had sneered at him before, now looked at him differently.
Trek and Tear stepped into the arena.
Trek studied him, eyes filled with unreadable intent. "You have proven yourself, Leav. You have earned your place."
Tear grunted. "You're strong. But strength isn't everything. We'll be watching you."
Leav barely heard them. His mind was already racing. He had proven himself, but that meant new enemies, new dangers.
He turned to his group. Weal was beaming. Frot was already calculating what this meant for his own gains. Yorl looked at him with something close to admiration—though the trouble in his eyes remained.
And Bout… Bout was gone.
Leav frowned. That goblin was hiding something. He needed to know what.
The night brought celebration, but Leav ate little. He observed. He planned.
The Trial of Blood was over. But this was only the beginning.
The world was bigger than their small settlement. There were greater dangers, greater creatures, greater powers.
And Leav intended to claim them.
Name: Leav (Formerly Vik)Race: GoblinBlessing: N/ALevel: 3Exp: 75/300
Stats:
Strength: 8
Vitality: 7
Agility: 7
Magic: 0
Charm: -25
Skills:
Unique Skills:
Adaptive Mutation – Can evolve traits and abilities based on survival needs.
Growth Mutation – Allows Leav to surpass racial limits and gain strength beyond a normal goblin.
Active Skills:
Sprint – Temporarily boosts movement speed.
Passive Skills:
Tactics – Enhances battle planning, decision-making, and group strategy.
Reinforced Muscles – Slightly increases physical resistance.
Leav stared at the blood-red moon overhead, the firelight casting flickering shadows across his face.
He was no longer just another goblin.
He was evolving.