The Devouring Knight-Chapter 82 - 81: Foundations of the Second Dawn

The goblin village buzzed with motion once more.

Smoke no longer rose from the trees, but from forges and fire pits. The air smelled not of death, but of sweat, steel, and dirt. Voices shouted orders, carts rattled with lumber, and hammer strikes rang out like a heartbeat. Life driven, hungry, relentless was back in full roll.

The second base’s construction had begun.

Logs were being shaped, stone hauled, earth cleared. Kobolds and goblins worked side by side, guided by Krivex’s planning and Gobo1’s barking orders. Even the boars hauled timber.

Lumberling moved quietly among them, not as a commander this time, but as an observer.

He passed the training yards, nodding at Grokk who was sparring two new militia recruits. Skitz had already taken some of the elite squad out for mounted drills. Aren was reviewing the salvaged armor, reorganizing supplies.

But his feet took him toward the infirmary tent.

It was quieter there, too quiet.

Inside, the light was filtered through canvas. Zarn hunched over a makeshift cot, binding the leg of a hunter whose thigh had been torn during the flank ambush. His face was lined with focus and fatigue.

"We’re low on herbs," Zarn muttered, not looking up. "Again."

"We’ll gather more," Lumberling replied.

Zarn finished the binding, stood, and wiped his hands on a cloth soaked red-brown. "I can keep patching them, but we still need more hands. I’ve trained two assistants, but it’s not enough."

Lumberling glanced at the line of cots. Most were resting now, breathing steady, but faces still pale.

"They fought well," he said softly.

"They bled well," Zarn replied. "That’s not the same."

A silence stretched between them. Zarn turned back to his patients, and Lumberling left without another word. He understood. Winning battles didn’t erase the cost.

Outside, the late afternoon sun cast a warm gold over the clearing. A breeze carried the scent of pine.

He made his way toward the pens by the cliff edge, where the wolves rested.

Karnark was already there, crouched by a shallow water basin. He was rubbing a poultice into the thick fur of one wolf’s hind leg. Jen stood beside him, feeding strips of meat to another with careful hands. A little further back, Lunira lay curled in the shade, her breaths slow and deep, resting, recovering, but keeping one ear half-turned toward them.

They both looked up as Lumberling approached.

"Brother," Jen greeted with a tired smile. "You came to see them?"

Lumberling nodded. "Had to make sure they’re still breathing."

Karnark chuckled. "Barely. But they’re tougher than they look."

The wolves watched him as he approached, most wagging their tails or nodding their heads in recognition. They still remembered his scent.

Then he saw them.

Two of the wolves at the back were... different.

Taller. Their fur had darkened and thickened, limbs leaner but more muscular. Their eyes glowed faintly silver in the shade.

Lumberling took a step forward, his expression unreadable.

"Those two," he said. "They changed."

"Evolved," Karnark said. "Happened last night. They started pacing, howling, then collapsed. We thought they were dying."

"But they weren’t," Jen added, excitement bright in her voice. "They woke up stronger. Bigger. Faster."

"Dire Wolves," Lumberling said, nodding with quiet approval. "They take after Lunira."

The larger of the two, its fur streaked with storm-gray, stared at him, then gave a low chuff and dipped its head.

A sign of respect.

Lumberling reached out and gently touched its neck.

Its breath rumbled deep in its chest.

"Keep training with them," he said. "Use these two to help lead the pack."

"Yes, my Lord," Karnark said. "If they keep evolving like this, we won’t just have a cavalry. We’ll have a vanguard."

Lumberling looked out across the pens, across the trees beyond.

"Good," he said. "We’ll need one."

And in his mind, he saw the map again, saw the roads, the rivers, the castles, and the future warlines being drawn.

He thought of Shade still recovering.

He thought of the noble’s final words.

Then he turned, cloak shifting in the wind.

....

After checking on the wolves, Lumberling made his way to the shaded cave chamber where Shade was kept.

It was quiet, eerily so. The kind of silence that made your steps sound too loud, your breath too sharp.

Shade lay coiled in the hollowed stone den, webbing layered around its resting place like a silken cocoon. Its body was still battered, several legs were jagged stumps, and its carapace was dull from trauma.

Lumberling knelt beside it, his expression unreadable. He watched for a while, just observing the rise and fall of its breathing.

’It’s healing,’ he thought. ’But slowly.’

He considered whether to channel essence into the spider, just enough to help regenerate its missing limbs. A little wouldn’t hurt, so long as he didn’t overdo it.

But then Shade’s eyes opened.

Six glassy black orbs, and yet... they saw him.

Lumberling froze.

The spider didn’t move. But its gaze... something in it locked him in place. Not fear. Not anger. A message.

He stepped closer without hesitation and placed a hand on its head, just above the crack in its carapace.

For a moment, nothing.

Then...

A feeling. Like threads tugging at his consciousness.

Not words. Not speech.

’Wait,’ the sensation said.

Then Shade began to tremble.

Thin cracks spread across its body.

The den chilled. Not from wind, but from something else.

The air grew thick, charged. Threads of old silk began to sway as if touched by unseen hands.

Then, a sound, soft at first, like whispers brushing against stone.

Lumberling took a step back, eyes widening. "Molting?"

Shade’s body convulsed. Its legs curled in as a web of fine fractures crawled along its carapace. Then, with a dry snap, the exoskeleton split.

From within, something pale and wet unfolded, softer, longer, more alive.

Not just larger... sharper.

The way its new limbs twitched, silent, patient, didn’t feel like a beast reborn.

It felt like something was... awakening.

He blinked, breath caught in his chest.

"You bastard," he muttered with a crooked grin. "You’re going to evolve again?"

Shade was already a Venomfang Matron, the second evolutionary stage of giant spiders, roughly equivalent to a Knight Apprentice. If it evolved again, it would likely cross into Quasi-Knight level.

He exhaled slowly, a wry smile tugging at his lips.

"You greedy little bastard."

This wasn’t just molting.

It was hibernation.

Spiders, especially ones like Shade, didn’t molt in the open unless they trusted the space around them completely. This wasn’t just an upgrade, it was a declaration.

"You’re really letting your guard down... because of me?"

No web fortress. No secluded cave. Just a corner of the village, among the people he fought beside.

Shade trusted him.

Because during molting, Shade would be vulnerable, completely immobile for weeks.

Lumberling let out a long breath and ran a hand through his hair.

"Alright," he said quietly. "Then I’ll keep you safe."

He turned on his heel and left the den.

Because there was much to do, and Shade’s hibernation marked the beginning of a countdown.

A Month of Preparation

.....

The village never slowed.

As Shade began its hibernation, Lumberling threw himself into the coming month’s preparation.

The second base’s construction surged forward under Krivex’s command. Lumberling visited weekly to inspect the progress, hidden trenches, moss-covered palisades, underground supply stores. Concealment was paramount.

In the village, something else was stirring.

Evolution.

One by one, the stronger warriors, those who had been pushing themselves since the siege, those who had bathed in blood and fire began to change.

Twelve goblins evolved into hobgoblins, growing taller, broader, their voices deepening and their senses sharpening.

Fifteen kobolds, lean and fast, became elite kobolds. Their scales darkened, their claws hardened, and their coordination in the sparring grounds became razor-sharp.

They gathered before Lumberling near the cliff’s edge where the elite squads trained.

He walked among them, inspecting each one personally.

"You’ve earned this," he said, voice carrying with quiet authority. "But evolution isn’t the end. It’s a question."

The newly-evolved stood straighter, listening.

"You have a choice," he continued. "Join the elite squads and fight alongside us as mercenaries, or return to your original units, train the others, and help raise our foundation instead of just our ceiling."

They exchanged glances, unsure.

"There’s no shame in either path," Lumberling said. "Both are needed."

Vakk stepped forward, arms crossed. "We’ll take them through trial drills. Let them see both sides before they decide."

Lumberling nodded. "Good. They’ve got one month."

He glanced toward the cave where Shade rested, then turned back to the field.

"One month. Then everything changes."

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