Ancestral Lineage

What would you do if your town, village, or country were suddenly attacked by unknown creatures?

The answers to this question are many, yet none are simple.

Some would flee. They would scramble to escape whatever calamity loomed over them, only to find that fate has a cruel sense of humor, often rewarding their fear with an untimely end. Few are lucky enough to outrun the inevitable.

Others would stand their ground, driven by a sense of duty, honor, or sheer desperation. They would fight back, believing their strength or courage might tip the scales. More often than not, these warriors meet a grim fate—whether by death or enslavement.

And then there are those who would simply surrender, hoping for mercy or a swift end. They may beg or pray, but fate is not known for its kindness. No, fate is like a scorned and vengeful woman, her heart hardened and her wrath unyielding. She exacts her toll with merciless precision.

Such was the world, and such was life.

Great Chief Gorbu sat on his throne of jagged stone, surrounded by his goblin concubines. His massive, brawny frame exuded power, his dark brown skin glistening under the dim torchlight. Black, curved horns jutted menacingly from behind his elongated, veiny ears, and his broad chest was wrapped in thick furs. Around his neck, a gruesome necklace of skulls rattled with every slight movement.

Nearly seven feet tall, Gorbu was an imposing figure. The women fawning over him offered him scraps of roasted meat from various beasts and even fallen goblins from rival clans. Gorbu led the Earth Clan, and under his iron rule, his people thrived through brutality and conquest.

Leaning back in his craggy throne, he tore into a charred limb with savage satisfaction, his glowing green eyes gleaming with lust as they roved over the women. For a moment, all seemed peaceful, save for the low murmurs and crackling fires in the cavern.

And then it came.

BOOM!

The ground beneath them erupted in a violent quake, shaking with such intensity that Gorbu's throne crumbled into dust, sending the great chief tumbling onto his rocky backside.

"Raaaahhhh!" Gorbu's roar echoed through the cavern, his fury igniting like wildfire. His emerald eyes flared with unnatural brilliance as he surveyed the chaos, searching for the cause of this insult.

Standing amidst the settling dust was a lone figure, tall and composed. His lips curled into a faint smirk, and his voice carried an air of mockery. "Well, this is unexpected. I didn't think beasts like you had societies. Fascinating, really… though you could use better decor. Oh, and relax, big guy."

The man, Godfred, ducked and sidestepped as Gorbu hurled a massive chunk of rock at him.

"Kriek! (I will kill you!)" Gorbu bellowed in his native tongue, his voice dripping with murderous intent.

The goblin chief's aura erupted in a blinding flash of green energy, the shockwave obliterating everything within a ten-meter radius. The air crackled with raw power as Gorbu's skin took on a radiant golden sheen—a mark of his rank, a Gold-rank beast.

Godfred chuckled, his smirk widening. "Gold rank, huh? Not bad. Let's see how I stack up. Ethan made it this far; no reason I can't, too."

With a low rumble, the earth around Godfred responded to his call. Mud slithered and climbed up his arms, hardening into a jagged layer of blackened, igneous rock. Spiked protrusions jutted out from the armor, glinting menacingly under the dim light.

He flexed his fists, the stone groaning under the strain.

"Let's dance!" Godfred roared, launching himself forward with explosive speed.

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The cavern shook anew as the two clashed, Gorbu meeting Godfred's charge with a feral roar of his own. Their collision sent shockwaves rippling through the Earth Clan's lair, stone and debris raining down around them.

Gorbu swung his massive fist, glowing with golden energy, aiming to crush the intruder in a single blow. Godfred ducked low, the force of the strike creating a crater where he had stood moments before. Pivoting on his heel, he retaliated with a rock-covered fist aimed at Gorbu's ribs.

The blow connected, sending the goblin chief skidding backward. Yet, Gorbu only grinned, his golden aura intensifying.

"You're tougher than you look," Godfred remarked, shaking his fist as faint cracks appeared in his stone gauntlet.

"Etik krikk krek kriek (And you're stupider than I thought)," Gorbu snarled, lunging forward again with unrelenting ferocity.

The battle raged on, each strike and counterstrike shaking the very foundations of the cavern. Sparks flew as raw power clashed against hardened stone, neither combatant willing to yield an inch.

And yet, as the fight continued, Godfred's smirk never wavered. He wasn't here by accident. He had sought out the Earth Clan's leader for a reason, and he intended to finish what he started—no matter the cost.

...

Blue skin, misty eyes, and elongated ears—these were the distinguishing traits of the Mist Clan goblins, a stark contrast to their Earth Clan counterparts. The Mist Clan preferred stealth and cunning to brute strength. Hidden in the dense grass and shrouded fog of their territory, they waited, hearts pounding, as the inevitable approached.

Unlike the Earth Clan, the Mist Clan maintained good relations with the Tree Clan, and when Gobji of the Tree Clan sounded the alarm, the message reached the Mist Clan's leader, Gaburi.

Gaburi stood tall—for a goblin—at an impressive five feet, his thin frame almost skeletal. His skin, pale blue with a ghostly translucence, seemed to shimmer in the mist that surrounded him. A single, sharp horn jutted from his forehead, faintly glowing with a soft azure light. His large, misty eyes were unblinking as he surveyed his domain.

Gaburi was no ordinary goblin. He was a Gold-rank beast, his mastery over water and mist making him a formidable foe. Beneath his frail appearance lay a cunning mind and a deep reservoir of power.

The Mist Clan's territory was eerily silent, the fog thick and impenetrable. The goblins crouched low, blending seamlessly with their surroundings, as Gaburi raised a skeletal hand.

"Krik(Hold)," he hissed in the guttural tongue of his kind. "Krek krik ki. Kreik kre arkir rikk.(Let them come to us. The mist is our ally)."

The goblins obeyed, their weapons ready but their bodies still. The air grew colder, the fog denser, as Gaburi prepared for the inevitable confrontation.

...

The silence shattered as the sound of footsteps echoed through the mist. They weren't hurried or clumsy; they were deliberate, confident. Gaburi's ears twitched at the rhythm of the steps, his sharp senses picking up the faint hum of power in the air.

"Interesting," came a calm voice, its tone smooth and unhurried. A figure emerged from the fog, stepping into the center of the Mist Clan's hidden domain.

Timothy stood tall, his presence commanding despite the swirling mist. His dark eyes scanned the area, his lips curling into a faint smile. "A goblin Gold-rank. I didn't think I'd get this lucky twice in one day."

Gaburi stepped forward, his horn glowing brighter as his aura flared. The mist around him thickened, swirling like a living entity. "Rikk krik kreik kkiri?(Who dares trespass in the domain of the Mist Clan?)" he demanded, his voice echoing unnaturally through the fog.

"Timothy," the man replied casually, tilting his head. "But you don't need to remember that. You'll be dead soon. I don't know why I can even understand you."

Gaburi's lips curled into a snarl, his thin frame trembling with suppressed rage. "(Kreki kriek krek. Kirik krri kik.)Foolish human. The mist will be your grave."

Timothy's smile widened. "We'll see about that."

...

Gaburi raised his hand, and the fog around Timothy surged, turning into sharp tendrils of water that lashed out with deadly precision. Timothy didn't move. Instead, he closed his eyes and exhaled softly.

A ripple of sound emanated from him, a low hum that seemed to resonate with the very air. The water tendrils froze mid-air, vibrating violently before exploding into harmless droplets.

Gaburi's eyes narrowed. "Kriekek(Sound affinity)," he muttered, his tone wary.

Timothy opened his eyes, his calm demeanor unbroken. "Correct. Let's see how your water dances against my music."

Gaburi roared, his aura surging as he raised both hands. The mist around him condensed into a massive wave, crashing toward Timothy with the force of a hurricane.

Timothy clapped his hands together, the sound reverberating like a thunderclap. The wave split in two, passing harmlessly on either side of him.

"You'll need to do better than that," Timothy said, his voice carrying a teasing edge.

Gaburi snarled, his horn glowing brighter as he summoned a dozen orbs of water, each spinning rapidly like miniature whirlpools. With a flick of his wrist, the orbs shot toward Timothy, their speed and precision unmatched.@@novelbin@@

Timothy stepped forward, his movements fluid as he weaved through the onslaught. Each step created a ripple of sound, disrupting the water orbs before they could reach him.

"You're quite the showman," Timothy remarked, his tone almost bored. "But it's my turn now."

He raised his hand, and a sharp, piercing note filled the air. The sound grew louder, sharper, until it became a physical force. The mist around Gaburi trembled, then shattered, leaving the goblin chief exposed.

Gaburi's eyes widened as Timothy appeared before him in an instant, his fist glowing with sonic energy. The punch connected with Gaburi's chest, sending him flying backward. He crashed into a nearby tree, splintering it on impact.

Gaburi struggled to his feet, coughing up blood. His aura flared once more, the ground beneath him turning into a pool of water. "Kreek kiir krik(You are strong)," he admitted, his voice ragged. "Kerek krrii kire kireik(But the Mist Clan does not fall so easily.)"

The water beneath him surged upward, forming a massive serpent that coiled around him protectively. The serpent hissed, its glowing blue eyes fixed on Timothy.

Timothy sighed, shaking his head. "You're just full of surprises, aren't you?"

The battle was far from over, the tension between them crackling like a storm. Both combatants prepared for the next round, their powers clashing in a dance of sound and water.