Kragg and Maui were together, seated across one another with a drink in hand, the air was tense.

Maui knew she couldn't hold out on him otherwise it might come back to bite her in the butt later.

"Tell me, what do you have for me?" Kragg questioned her, and Maui instantly adjusted her posture, a smile creasing her face.

It was like she had become another person entirely—no longer the Maui that Byung knew.

"He bought it all. I have earned his trust," Maui said, leaning back into her chair with a sinister smile spreading across her lips.

"I knew you could do it," Kragg replied, pleased by the news. This meant he now had direct access to Byung himself.

"He's the mastermind behind everything. He has managed to create forges, but there's something else he's been speaking about," Maui said, pausing to take a sip of the drink before her.

"Forges? What is going on?" Kragg thought to himself, not wanting to interrupt her.

"He has dreams about the sword," Maui revealed. It was information she had kept from Byung himself, making it hard to tell if what she was saying came from him—or if she had truly betrayed him.

"The sword?" Kragg asked, confusion on his face. Maui didn't need to repeat herself. His eyes widened in surprise.

"The mythical sword? That's just a story," Kragg said quickly, trying to dismiss it.

"How can he dream about something he never knew existed?" Maui asked, but Kragg didn't consider it important enough to worry about.

It was just a dream, and who knew what Byung might have heard during his time in the mines? There were too many possible factors for it to matter, and in Kragg's opinion, Maui was overreacting.

"Maui, it's a myth. None of it exists," Kragg reminded her, because for a second, it looked like she truly believed it.

"You're right," Maui sighed aloud, though Kragg could see she was tense. The goblins must have her on edge. Perhaps she had stayed among them too long.

"Come here," Kragg said, gesturing for her to approach.

"I can still smell her on you. Don't insult me, Kragg," Maui replied, rolling her eyes in irritation.

"Giyayaya! Don't be like that, my love," Kragg laughed, brushing off her accusation.

Was that really all males thought about? No, that couldn't be right. Byung would have asked her how she was—so maybe not all were the same.

"What are you preparing for?" Maui changed the subject, and the smile faded from Kragg's face.

"Vrognut is coming," Kragg said.

"Vrognut? Isn't he wanted? Why would he risk everything to come here?" Maui asked, raising a brow. It made no sense.

"That's what I want you to find out. Did they say anything among their ranks?" Kragg asked, but Maui couldn't recall hearing anything.

Her blank stare told Kragg all he needed. It must be Drekk. There was no way she had access to him yet.

"I see… I need you to do something for me," Kragg muttered, and Maui sighed, already knowing what he was about to say.

"It's the full moon soon, isn't it?" Kragg added, finishing his thought.

"It is," Maui replied softly.

"No one comes close to your tribe's strength when the moon ascends. You should be able to take out Vrognut in this state," Kragg said, though the way he spoke implied Vrognut was stronger than an average orc.

Vrognut was cunning. He didn't rely on strength to overpower his opponents but used his limited wits instead. Each mistake he made left a scar, and every scar was a lesson.

That was what set him apart from the regular goblins—he evolved through experience alone.

He was a deadly goblin who thrived on pain, violence, and pleasure.

If he came to this region, there was no doubt he would bring trouble. But Kragg knew he would only need Maui's help if Vrognut truly arrived.

–––

Deep into the night, the goblins continued their journey, laughing and talking but only three were on horseback–– one of them was Vrognut.

It was rare to see such a sight, as livestock wasn't common in the Western Province. But Vrognut understood the value of horses. He had once been defeated by an orc on horseback and learned firsthand the power they held.

He trusted horses more than anyone else. They gave their all as long as they were treated well—and Vrognut treated them better than the females trapped within his mines to live out the rest of their lives as slaves.

Sometimes, he allowed the horses to have their fun with the women too, even if it ended in death or permanent harm to them. Why should he respect them when their kind treated his people with disdain?

The goblins didn't rest, showing how much their endurance had grown. But hidden in the darkness, others were watching.

"These pigs are moving west. Should I go and exterminate them!?" an orc whispered in disgust. The sight of the goblins alone made his blood boil.

That was the nature of the Bloodfang Clan. The night favored them, even if they weren't Shadowtooth.

The goblins suddenly halted. The orcs had taken every step to mask their scent, and it had worked. But they also had to suppress their bloodlust—a far harder task.

That was the effect Vrognut had on them.

If these had been ordinary goblins, the orcs would have struck without hesitation. But Vrognut was different. He was calculating.

There were three goblins on horseback and the rest on foot.

The orcs could have attacked the mine he controlled in his absence, but doing so would have drawn the Mogul of the region into action. That would mean an all-out war—a costly one, even if they won.

And with humans always watching for weakness, that would be disastrous.

"It looks like they're setting up camp," another orc said. Only four orcs were stationed here.

The goblins lit torches, setting up a small camp. The night was cold, and the fire served both warmth and security.

The orcs watched for over thirty minutes, waiting patiently. Then, the three mounted goblins dismounted and entered a tent together.

There was no doubt—Vrognut was among them.

These were the targets. This wasn't meant to be a full-scale attack but a quiet assassination.

If they caught him off guard, they could kill him. Even if they failed, Vrognut couldn't take down a single orc alone—especially if they were ready.

But in groups? They were a deadly force especially when goblins were ready to use themselves shields to preserve Vrognut's life. They didn't fear death.

The other goblins slept outside. The three riders had the privilege of the tent.

That narrowed the targets down.

The orcs moved silently, creeping closer to their positions. It had to be done simultaneously—one alarm could ruin everything.

They reached their marks, hearts steady, breaths low.

"Three… two… one," one of them signaled.

The orcs stormed the tents and killed the three goblins inside before they could react. Not a sound escaped their lips. The mission was clean.

Vrognut was dead—or so they thought.

Before they could confirm the kills, spears tore through the tents, striking two orcs fatally and grazing another.

The two impaled orcs stumbled out—only to see Vrognut standing before them with his platoon, spears in hand, ready to throw again.

"Y-you bastard! How are you alive!?" one of the orcs gasped, clutching the spear in his gut in pain.

Vrognut had been on horseback earlier, but he had switched places with one of his soldiers, expecting an ambush.

His nose—his greatest asset—had sensed the orcs long before.

He was blessed with an extra sensitive nose and it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say he had the best nose among his kind.

Now, the tables had turned and the orcs had been outsmarted by the very thing they were hunting.

One orc charged at him, spear dangling in his right chest, the fatal wound would no doubt put anyone on their knees so this feat was impressive.

The goblins held their spears but didn't throw them, leaving him to charge at his target uninterrupted. They wanted to watch.

No, the look in their eyes suggested something a lot more sinister as they salivated.

Vrognut stepped forward. With one brutal swing, he sliced the orc's neck open with little to no difficulty.

Blood sprayed across his face, and he grinned, catching droplets on his tongue.

"I haven't had anything to eat or drink. This should do it!" he laughed like a manic.

"Come on boys! Have your fill!" Vrognut screamed at the top of this lungs.

The goblins launched their spears, killing the other standing orc. Then they pounced—biting, tearing, devouring. The ground turned red.

–––

"Fuck! This is bad!" the last orc hissed from within the tent.

The flap suddenly opened.

Vrognut stepped in, smiling wide.

"Well, well, well. Looks like dinner came to me," he said confidently.

He was sure of his victory—but would that be the truth?

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