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Chronicles of Vearth

Chapter 6 / 60

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Chapter 6 - 6: The Shifting Tides

Chronicles of Vearth

The

Red Python

lay in a broken heap, its once-menacing eyes now

dull and lifeless

. The thick, coppery scent of

blood

lingered in the air, mixing with the musky odor of the slain beast.

Leav took it all in. The adrenaline of battle had begun to fade, leaving behind a

cold, calculating calm

. Around him, the others buzzed with the aftermath of combat—a mixture of

relief, triumph, and something darker

.

Yorl,

chest heaving

, repeatedly

slammed

his crude axe into the python's already lifeless head. Each blow sent a

wet, sickening crunch

into the air. A guttural,

animalistic roar

tore from his throat as he

lost himself

in the aftermath of the fight.

The

Berserk

skill had changed him.

Leav observed with growing concern.

Raw strength

was valuable, but this?

This was dangerous.

Uncontrolled fury could be a weapon—one that turned

against its wielder

just as easily as it struck an enemy.

Weal, however, had already

shifted gears

. His initial fear had been replaced with

focused energy

, and he darted around the carcass, eagerly pointing out the

best sections of meat

.

Frot, opportunistic as ever, was busy

prying the python's fangs

loose with a sharpened stick. His greedy eyes gleamed as he worked.

Bout stood apart from them all,

silent

, watching. His expression was unreadable.

Leav took charge.

He had to.

"Alright," he said, voice firm. "Let's get to work. Weal, you

know

meat. Start carving. Frot, keep working on those

fangs

—they could make useful weapons. Yorl..."

Yorl

paused

mid-swing, his axe trembling in his grip. His eyes snapped toward Leav, still wild, still filled with

something untamed

.

"Calm yourself," Leav continued.

"We need your strength intact."

For a moment, he thought Yorl might

ignore him

—might even

lash out

.

Then, with one final

brutal strike

, the brute

stopped

. He exhaled heavily, his

massive chest rising and falling

. Then, slowly, he lumbered over to the python's

thick hide

and began to

peel it away

from the flesh.

Good. He listens—for now.

Leav watched over the

harvesting process

, ensuring nothing went to waste.

This battle had been

a test

. And while they had won,

victory had come by chance

—a combination of Weal's observation, Frot's distraction, Bout's

deadly precision

, and Yorl's brute force.

It wouldn't always go that way.

He needed to

refine them

, to

hone their strengths

and

rein in their weaknesses

.

His new skill,

Tactics

, pulsed at the edge of his awareness. It sharpened his thoughts, making every decision feel

crisper, more efficient

. He could already sense its influence, subtly guiding his strategies.

But the

system

was his

alone

.

His secret. His power.

The python's corpse provided

more than enough resources

—a feast's worth of

meat

, a hide

thick and durable

enough to fashion crude armor, and fangs sharp enough to be

deadly weapons

.

By the time the work was done, the sun had begun to set.

Leav assigned the loads:

Weal & Frot

carried the

meat

.

Yorl

took the

hide

.

Bout

... Leav hesitated before handing him the

fangs

.

"

Keep an eye out,

" Leav said, watching him carefully. "If we run into trouble,

use that arm of yours.

"

Bout gave a

slight nod

, his eyes unreadable.

Leav needed to understand him better. That

throw

—the speed, the precision—

it wasn't normal

. Not for a goblin.

So he probed.

Carefully.

"Bout," Leav said, matching his pace with the quiet goblin. "That throw... it was impressive. Have you practiced before?"

Bout merely

shrugged

. "Sometimes."

Nothing more.

Leav knew a

stonewall

when he saw one.

Read 𝓁at𝙚st chapters at ƒrēewebnovel.com Only.

For now, Bout's secrets would remain

his own

.

The

goblin settlement

came into view, its crude huts and sharpened stakes standing against the darkening sky.

They were met with

awe... and envy.

The

older goblins

—the ones who had dismissed them—had returned with

a scrawny deer

. Their expressions

darkened

as they saw the

python spoils

Leav's group carried.

They weren't just another hunting party anymore.

They were

competition.

The

tribe elder

, an aged, scarred goblin with keen

yellow eyes

, stepped forward. He

inspected

their spoils with

silent approval

.

"You have done well, Leav," he rasped, voice thick with age. "The tribe will eat well tonight. You have

earned your place.

"

A murmur of

agreement

rippled through the crowd.

But Leav felt the

glares

of the hunting party.

This

wasn't over

.

The elder raised a

bony hand

. "The

meat

will be shared among the tribe. The

hide

will reinforce our defenses. And the

fangs

..." His gaze flickered to the pouch Leav had handed him. "The

shaman

will decide their purpose."

Leav

nodded

, keeping his expression neutral.

He had expected this.

The fangs could be used for

weapons

, but more likely? The shaman would use them for

rituals

—to

commune

with whatever

dark forces

the goblins believed in.

Leav would have

preferred

to keep them. But power in the tribe was about

playing the long game

.

For now, he would

comply

.

The Feast and the Shadows

That night, the tribe

feasted

.

The

air

was thick with the scent of roasting python meat, the sounds of

gnawing and grunting

filling the settlement.

Leav ate little.

He was watching. Learning.

Weal

basked in the

praise

of the others, his fear forgotten.

Frot

was already

scheming

, whispering to other goblins.

Yorl

, however, was

different

. He

picked at his food

, his usual

appetite missing

. His gaze was distant, locked onto the

fire

, flickering with

something unsettled

.

The

Berserk

skill was affecting him.

Leav needed to find a

way to control it

—to

harness

Yorl's power before it consumed him.

And then there was

Bout

.

He

ate in silence

, avoided eye contact, and when the feast was done...

he vanished

into the shadows.

Leav exhaled, staring into the

dying flames

of the fire.

The

python

was dead, but this victory had only

unlocked new dangers

.

His group was growing stronger.

But so were his

enemies.

The

hunting party wouldn't forget this.

The

shaman now had the fangs.

And beyond the goblin lands? The python was proof that

deadlier creatures lurked

.

Leav looked up at the

blood-red moon

.

His gaze hardened.

Vik, the

insurance worker

, was dead.

Leav, the

goblin

, was just beginning.

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