Blood soaked the pristine white marble of the Summoning Hall. The scent of iron clung to the air, thick and choking. Screams had long faded into stunned silence, save for the squelch of Shia's boots as she stepped away from the twitching corpse of Lord Taren.
Reed stood unmoving in the center of the chaos, eyes calm, hands steady. Around him, nobles cowered behind their Heroes, expressions caught between horror and outrage. The ceremonial elegance of the gathering had shattered, replaced with a tension so taut it hummed.
"You... you fool!" someone finally shouted. Lord Alrich, a paunchy man with too many rings on his fingers, pointed a trembling hand. "You just committed treason!"
Reed tilted his head, watching him like a hawk. "Treason? Against who?"
Alrich's mouth opened, but no sound came. Others murmured. Eyes turned to the Royal Scribe, an old, hunched man who hadn't looked up once since blood hit his parchment. He cleared his throat.
"Technically... no law forbids a newly appointed lord from challenging another."
A collective gasp. Reed raised an eyebrow.
"So I broke no law."
"You murdered a peer in a sacred ceremony!" snapped Lady Vessara, a sharp-featured woman whose Hero, a radiant knight, glared at Shia.
"I gave a command. My Hero obeyed. Isn't that the point?" Reed's voice was flat. "Obedience. Loyalty. Strength."
The Royal Scribe shuffled forward, his sandals slick with blood. He adjusted his spectacles. "The domain has seen such incidents before. Rare, but not unprecedented. Duel by proxy... though not during Summoning."
Reed didn't smile. Not visibly. But something flickered in his gaze—a shadow of triumph.
A pair of guards moved to seize him. Shia tensed. Her twin daggers gleamed. The guards hesitated.
"Enough," came a new voice, low and commanding. From the far end of the hall strode a man dressed in black and gold. Lord Magistrate Halveth. His presence was a hammer. Even the most arrogant nobles stepped back.
He stopped before Reed, studying the young lord with eyes like dull steel. "You're Reed. The street rat."
Reed said nothing.
"Your domain is Goblin's Hollow. Rank F. The lowest." Halveth turned to Shia. "And this is your Hero."
"Shia," she said without being asked, voice rough like gravel. "His blade. His will."
"Cute." Halveth turned back. "You understand what you've done?"
"I tested the system. It didn't break."
For a moment, silence stretched. Then Halveth... laughed. Short and sharp. "You're not wrong. But don't mistake loopholes for immunity. You've painted a target on your back, boy. Nobles remember slights."
"Let them remember."
Halveth's grin faded. "Then you should remember this: when a lord dies, his domain collapses. His people, his holdings... yours for the taking. You've started a war you're too weak to win."
Reed met his gaze. "Then I'll get stronger."
Halveth studied him one last time. "You'll leave now. Before the vultures descend."
Outside, the sky was a heavy grey. Rain had started, thin and cold. Shia walked beside Reed without a word, daggers clean again, though her tunic was still splattered crimson.
They reached the stables. A single carriage waited, dark and unmarked.
"They let us go," Reed muttered. "But we won't be forgotten."
"No. You made them afraid."
He turned to her, really looking. She was not like any goblin he had seen in the gutter. Taller. Built like a predator. And those eyes—green fire. Yet Rank F. Stats abysmal. Everything about her screamed trash. Except one number.
Loyalty: 100%
"Why are you so loyal?"
She shrugged. "Because you saw me. You didn't flinch. Didn't scorn. You ordered. I obeyed. That is enough."
Reed frowned. "That can't be all."
"You'll learn more. If you live."
He laughed. A bitter sound.
The journey to Goblin's Hollow was silent. Through the cracked carriage window, Reed watched as forests turned to barren hills. The land was sickly. The kind of place nobles used as punishment postings.
When they arrived, it was night. No torches lit the roads. The gates to the domain creaked open on rusted hinges. Inside: squalor. Broken huts, lean figures hunched in shadow. Goblins. Starving, ragged, wild-eyed.
"This is home?"
"For now," said Shia.
A goblin child hissed and fled. Others peered from behind rotting wood.
Reed stepped down. The air stank of decay.
"We start here. We take everything. Piece by piece."
Shia knelt before him. "Command me."
Days passed.
Reed began to understand the system. Domains thrived or died on two things: the strength of their lord and the bond with their Hero. He had neither yet. But he had a will hardened by the streets.
And Shia.
She trained constantly. Fought like a demon. Savage, precise, unrelenting. Her stats didn't matter. What mattered was how she used them. She bled for him, again and again. Never hesitating.
He learned the laws too. Lords could kill each other, provided no civilian casualties. Heroes were extensions of their lord's will. Murder by Hero was legal.
He hadn't broken rules. He had exploited them.
One night, as they sat by a weak fire in the ruined keep, Shia asked, "Do you regret it?"
"Killing that lord? No."
"Making yourself a target?"
"Every day. But fear keeps me alive. Keeps them guessing."
She nodded. Then added quietly, "I heard whispers. Other lords are watching. They speak of assassins."
"Let them come."
He stood, walked to the window, looking out into the dark. Somewhere, a howl rose. Not wolf. Something worse.
"You think I'm weak, too, don't you?"
"No," said Shia. "I think you're unfinished."
That night, it came.
A shadow in the keep. Silent as breath. A figure dressed in the robes of a noble assassin. Masked. Blade coated with black venom.
Shia didn't sense them in time.
The blade went through Reed's chest.
He gasped. Blood poured. Pain exploded.
Shia screamed. A sound not of fear, but fury. She launched herself at the assassin, screaming words in a language Reed didn't understand.
Steel clashed. Flesh tore. Blood sprayed across stone.
Reed collapsed, vision tunneling.
The last thing he saw before darkness took him was Shia's face, twisted in rage, her blade at the assassin's throat.
Then, nothing.
He awoke to agony. Light. Pain. Breath.
"You're alive," Shia said. Her hands were red. Her face, bruised. But her eyes—burning.
"Why... didn't I die?"
"I gave you something. Something forbidden."
He tried to rise. Couldn't.
"What did you do?"
She hesitated. Then whispered:
"I gave you goblin blood."