"I'm not ordering anyone to come with me," Satou continued. "But I need a small group to make the challenge look legitimate. Three or four Hobgoblins as an entourage — to make it clear I'm serious and not just a lone goblin with a death wish."
"I'm going," Grimnir said immediately.
"And me," Lyra added.
"Us," Jessica and Kelvin said together, their expressions leaving no room for negotiation.
Satou wanted to refuse the siblings. Wanted to keep them in the cave where they'd be safe. But protecting them didn't mean keeping them in a box — it meant letting them grow strong enough to face danger when it came. And it was going to keep coming regardless.
"Fine," he said. "The five of us go. Everyone else stays here and prepares for the worst. If we're not back by nightfall, assume we failed and evacuate immediately. Brak leads the evacuation. Sela coordinates the wounded."
Both nodded without argument.
The next few hours moved fast.
Satou spent his recovered mana on the six remaining regular goblins — the last members of the group who hadn't yet been evolved. He called them forward one by one and placed his hand on each head in turn, giving each a name that fit what he'd observed of them across the past days.
"Vex," he told the oldest of the six — a scarred male who had been quietly reliable in every task without ever seeking recognition.
"Pell," he told the quickest of the group — a female who had twice now spotted danger before the scouts had.
"Drak," he told a heavyset male who had spent the past three days helping carry wounded without being asked.
"Sorra," he told a quiet female who had been one of the first to start teaching the youngest goblins basic weapon handling.
"Grin," he told a young male who still looked half-terrified most of the time but had never once failed to show up when something needed doing.
"Wren," he told the last — a female who had said almost nothing in days but whose eyes missed nothing.
Six namings. Eighteen mana points spent in sequence, three at a time, draining his full capacity twice over. He had to pause between the third and fourth to let three points recover — one per hour, three hours of waiting, then the final three in the last cycle.
By the time all six were done, the cave held eighteen Hobgoblins where six hours ago there had been twelve.
Satou checked his mana. Four points recovered while the last two namings were finishing. Not full — not close — but the chieftain challenge was set for sunset. He had hours to recover more.
He spent the remaining time testing skill combinations in the back of the cave, away from the others. Earth Manipulation could soften ground beneath a moving opponent's feet or raise a ridge to break their footing. Stone Spit gave him ranged pressure at range. Poison Fang was close-range but decisive if it landed. Predator's Gaze could break an opponent's composure at a critical moment. Night Hunter would sharpen everything at dusk.
He was still a juvenile goblin facing an adult orc chieftain who had survived enough fights to lead a tribe. The size difference alone was enormous.
'I need every edge I can get.'
As the sun climbed toward midday, Satou gathered the five at the cave entrance.
Grimnir wore his best armor — crude by human standards but functional, and fitted for a body that was now nearly six feet of corded muscle. Lyra carried her bow and a quiver of arrows over one shoulder, her injured side strapped with a cloth brace that Sela had wrapped that morning. Jessica and Kelvin each held spears they'd been drilling with under Grimnir's instruction, their stances noticeably steadier than a week ago.
Satou wore a leather vest fashioned from wolf hide, worn trousers, and his damaged sword at his hip.
He looked more like a refugee than a warrior. Which was accurate. He was hoping the orcs would make the same mistake.
"Remember the plan," Satou said. "We approach openly. I do the talking. If things go wrong, your priority is Kira — not me. Get her out first, then run. Understood?"
All four nodded. Jessica's nod was the most reluctant.
Satou activated Predator's Gaze and felt it settle over him — a shift in presence, something that made goblins straighten and orcs would hopefully hesitate. "No matter what they throw at us, act like we belong there. These orcs need to believe we're a legitimate threat. Sell it."
"We will," Grimnir said.
They set out.
Three miles through the forest felt both endless and too short.
Satou's senses pulled in everything — rustling leaves, bird calls, subtle scent threads on the wind. Tremor Sense mapped the footfalls of animals moving in the undergrowth around them. Pack Leader's Instinct fed him the emotional state of his four companions — controlled tension, focused determination, a thread of fear that none of them were letting reach their faces.
Good.
The settlement was larger in daylight than Grimnir's night report had conveyed. The palisade rose at least fifteen feet, logs sharpened to points at the top, guard towers flanking the main gate. Satou counted four sentries watching from elevated positions before the group had even reached shouting distance.
The gates stood open. Traffic moved through them. Orcs going in and out without concern, unhurried, at home.
Forty-five minimum inside. Maybe more now.
"This is it," Satou said. "Everyone ready?"
"As we'll ever be," Lyra replied.
They walked forward. Openly. No attempt to hide.
The sentries spotted them immediately. An alarm went up — a short, barking call that Satou couldn't parse through Goblin Translation since it wasn't goblin. Within seconds, twenty orc warriors had poured through the gate and formed a semicircle outside it, weapons drawn.
Up close, they were exactly as imposing as the reports had suggested. Seven feet minimum, muscles that looked engineered rather than grown, tusks jutting from lower jaws, wearing armor that ranged from functional leather to actual metal plate on the one who stepped forward.
The leader of this group wore metal. He carried a curved blade that would have been called a greatsword in Satou's old world. He spoke in orcish — a deep, grinding rumble.
A younger orc beside him turned to Satou and said, in accented but clear Common: "The captain asks what business goblins have approaching orc territory. He suggests you run before he uses your heads to decorate the gate."
Satou stepped forward. Predator's Gaze fully active. He met the captain's eyes directly and held them.
"Tell your captain I've come to challenge your chieftain to single combat," he said, his voice carrying clearly across the assembled warriors. "By right of trial by challenge. I'm formally requesting the opportunity to face him."
The translator's expression flickered — surprise, then careful neutrality as he relayed it in orcish.
The response was immediate. Laughter. Harsh and mocking, spreading through the twenty warriors like a wave. The captain's response, when translated, dripped with contempt.
"A goblin challenging Chieftain Urgak. You're either very brave or very stupid. Probably both. What makes you think you have the right to demand anything from us?"
"I have the right because I'm strong enough to claim it," Satou replied. "Unless orcs are so weak now that they fear challenges from those they consider lesser? Has your chieftain grown too comfortable to answer a formal challenge?"
The laughter stopped.
The air changed. Several orcs growled, hands tightening on weapons. The captain's eyes went cold and dangerous.
Satou had calculated this carefully. He needed them angry enough to take him seriously. Not so angry they simply killed him and dealt with the social cost later.
"You dare insult Chieftain Urgak," the captain said through the translator, his voice flat and controlled now — which was somehow worse than the contempt. "I should cut you down where you stand."
"Then do it," Satou said, spreading his arms. "Prove that orcs have abandoned honor and now murder unarmed challengers. I'm sure the other tribes will hear about it. The wolf-banner warriors who arrived yesterday — I wonder what they'll think of a chieftain who can't let a goblin challenge stand."
Another calculated risk. Naming the arriving warriors told the captain that they'd been watched. It told him the goblins were more informed than they should be. It also told him that backing down here had witnesses beyond just his own people.
The captain stared at him for a long moment.
Then he spat on the ground and sheathed his weapon.
He said something in orcish, short and final.
"The captain says you'll have your challenge," the translator said. His voice had changed slightly — something in it that might have been reluctant interest. "Chieftain Urgak will decide what to do with you. If you survive the walk to him."
The semicircle of twenty warriors parted, just enough to let five goblins through.
Satou glanced back at his four. Grimnir gave him a single nod. Lyra's eyes were already tracking the positions of every orc in the semicircle. Jessica and Kelvin stood shoulder to shoulder, spears held easy.
Satou turned back to the gate and walked through it.