The battlefield quieted at last, though the air was still heavy with the stench of blood and the growls of the bound beasts.
"Casualties... count them," Lumberling ordered, his voice steady but low.
The reports ca back, each word like a stone.
Two of the kobold berserkers had fallen during the battle. Their bodies were laid side by side, eyes closed, their once-burning fury gone cold.
A silence spread among the ranks. No one moved, no one spoke. The clash of battle had been replaced by the stillness of loss. Spears rested against the ground, shields lowered.
Lumberling stood with them in that quiet. He didn’t speak empty comfort. He simply bowed his head, honoring the dead in silence.
The final tally was grim. Five hobgoblins dead. Seven elite kobolds lost. Thirty-eight more wounded, though most would recover with ti.
Lumberling clenched his jaw. So many lives gone. So many that might’ve been saved, if only he had healers under his command.
’If I had proper healers... half of them would still be breathing.’
He exhaled slowly, steadying the storm inside him. "We’ll carry them ho with honor," he said at last.
No wails, no sobbing, only silence. It was the way of warriors, to be rembered in strength, not in tears.
.....
On the other hand, six more lay groaning with wounds too deep to ignore. One hobgoblin warrior had his leg bent at a sick angle, bone jutting beneath the skin. In his old world, Lumberling knew the truth, such damage would an amputation, or a cripple’s life.
Here, though... there was a chance.
He studied the wounded warrior in silence, his mind heavy. If he absorbs essence, it should help. Essence carries a healing effect, small, but enough to nd what would otherwise be lost.
’Still... an injury that severe, I can’t be sure it will fully recover. If it fails, then I’ll have to send him to the church. Spend gold. Have it healed properly. Better that than leave him crippled.’ He thought.
...
anwhile, the soldiers turned to the grim work of survival. Knives and axes were drawn, stripping hides, cutting at, harvesting tusks and claws. The fallen bears, once terrors of the battlefield, were now resources, fur for warmth, at for the hungry, bones and organs to be sold or forged.
Blood still pooled around their carcasses, but the n worked without complaint. Victory had been costly, and nothing could be wasted.
Lumberling stood apart for a mont, watching the flas on one side and the butchering on the other. Death and life, loss and gain—both weighed on his shoulders.
He tightened his grip on his spear. ’This isn’t enough. Next ti, I’ll have healers. Next ti, fewer will die.’
...
Away from the noise of the camp, Lumberling stood with his chosen warriors. The air was heavy with the iron tang of blood, and the bound forms of the captured bears lood like fallen mountains. These beasts would not go to waste.
Grokk, Lunira, the seven Sub-captains, Karnark, nine elites, four hobgoblins, and three elite kobolds waited in tense silence. Each of them knew why they were here. Lumberling had already inford them and each understood the risks.
Lumberling’s eyes swept over them before settling on Grokk. "You’ll be first."
Grokk straightened at the words, jaw tightening, though his tusks glead in a faint, savage grin. He had been waiting for this.
Lumberling motioned to the smallest of the captured Alpha Bears, its breaths shallow but its gaze still burning with defiance. "This one will give you the best chance. Hope this will push you further."
The warriors stepped back as Lumberling approached the beast. The Alpha growled weakly, defiant even in its final breaths. Lumberling raised his spear without hesitation and drove it clean through the beast’s heart. The ground shook as it gave one last shudder, then stilled.
The air thickened imdiately. Threads of essence rose like smoke from its corpse, coiling in the air until Lumberling’s will seized them. With practiced focus, he directed the flow into Grokk.
The air grew heavy, vibrating with unseen power. Grokk’s eyes widened as the Alpha Bear’s essence tore through his veins. His body convulsed violently, muscles twitching, veins bulging beneath his dark skin as if they were alive.
A guttural scream ripped from his throat. He dropped to one knee, clutching his head. "Graaahhh!" His voice was raw, breaking under the weight of agony.
Karnark tensed, as if ready to leap in, but none dared act without Lumberling’s word.
Lumberling’s expression hardened. This reaction, this chaos was unlike anything he had seen before. He strode forward, planting his spear into the ground.
"Grokk!" he barked. "What’s happening?"
But Grokk couldn’t answer. His vision blurred, his hearing dulled until the world was nothing but a haze. The shouting of his comrades, the pounding of his own heartbeat, it all dissolved into a suffocating void.
And in that void, it appeared.
The Alpha Bear. The very beast he had devoured. Its form lood before him, larger, darker, and more nacing than before. Its fangs glead, its roar rattling his bones.
Grokk staggered back in terror. "No... this... this isn’t real..."
The beast pounced. Its claws swiped across his chest, and though no wound appeared, the pain was real enough to make him scream. Grokk fought back, swinging his fists, but his strikes felt like feathers against stone. The bear overpowered him, driving him to the ground.
In the chaos, a voice cut through. Calm, steady, commanding.
"Grokk. Breathe."
It was Lumberling. Grokk couldn’t see him, but the voice echoed in his head, unwavering like a pillar in the storm.
"Rember your ditation. Slow your breath. Anchor yourself."
Grokk gasped, clawing at the dirt of his mindscape. The bear lood over him, but he forced himself to inhale. One breath. Shaky and uneven.
"Again," Lumberling’s voice urged. "In... hold... out. Let it pass through you."
Grokk closed his eyes. He could feel the bear’s hot breath on his face, hear its growl vibrating in his chest. Panic clawed at him, begging him to run, to resist.
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