Fish Leader was broad-shouldered, with clean, unassuming features that were considered handsome by the standards of the Wyrmspring Murlocs gathered around him. Unlike the others, he wore clothing woven from vine leaves, a simple but unmistakable sign of his position.
"Leader, Third Fish is bullying Fish Second again."
Fish Twelve, a young female Murloc standing beside him, shot Third Fish a pointed look. There was an unmistakable hint of satisfaction in her expression.
"He knows Fish Second can’t count past nine. He knocked over his basket on purpose so he could take the extra fish. And when I called him out, he splashed water at me. On purpose."
Laughter rippled through the group.
Several Murlocs turned toward Third Fish, who immediately looked uncomfortable beneath the attention.
One of them, still chewing on a roasted fish, tried to join the argument. Whatever he wanted to say came out as a collection of unintelligible sounds, so he resorted to waving his hands instead.
Unfortunately, he became so distracted that he forgot about the fish in his other hand.
It slipped free.
Plop.
The fish landed in the dirt.
Fish Second, who had been staring at the fire with complete concentration, reacted instantly. He lunged forward, snatched the fish before it could roll away, and returned to his place without paying the argument the slightest attention.
His eyes remained fixed on Fish Leader.
Only after receiving a resigned nod did he finally start eating.
Third Fish, meanwhile, was practically vibrating with indignation.
He wanted to defend himself.
Unfortunately, he had neither the quick thinking necessary to invent an excuse nor the vocabulary to explain one even if he had.
One glance at Fish Leader’s sidelong look was enough to kill whatever courage he’d managed to gather.
He paced nervously instead, waiting for his punishment.
More laughter broke out.
Fish Leader looked at him briefly before turning his attention to Fish Second.
"Third Fish provoked you today. You already took part of his catch. Consider that his punishment. Fair?"
Fish Second was too busy eating to notice that he’d been spoken to.
His tail wagged happily behind him.
Fish Twelve nudged him with her leg.
He blinked, looked around, and finally realized that everyone was waiting for him.
His eyes settled on Fish Leader.
The moment he understood the question, he nodded.
It was the same instinctive response he always gave whenever their leader addressed him directly.
Then he went back to eating.
"Fish Second agrees."
Fish Leader looked toward Fish Twelve.
"Since Third Fish splashed you, I’ll have him give you an extra catch tomorrow. Does that settle it?"
Fish Twelve glanced at Third Fish.
His face had gone pale.
She smiled and nodded.
"Good."
Fish Leader turned toward Third Fish.
His voice remained calm, but there was no room for argument in it.
"Third Fish. Any objection?"
The clearing fell silent.
Every Murloc turned toward him.
Losing another day’s catch felt to Third Fish like the sky itself had collapsed.
Food was precious. Every fish mattered.
But Fish Leader’s authority was absolute.
He was smarter than Fish Twelve, stronger than Fish Second, and better than the rest of them at almost everything that mattered. Challenging him would accomplish nothing.
Third Fish forced a bitter smile and shook his head.
Satisfied, Fish Leader walked toward the fire.
He reached down, pulled a roasted fish from the flames, and carried it over.
He placed it in Third Fish’s hands before giving him a light pat on the shoulder.
Then he turned toward the rest of the group.
"Third Fish became greedy today because our tribe doesn’t have enough food for everyone."
His expression became serious.
"As leader, that failure belongs to me."
The Murlocs exchanged glances.
"So I’ll take one fish from my own portion and give it to him. Agreed?"
Nobody objected.
They didn’t completely understand why their leader was going out of his way to help Third Fish, of all Murlocs.
But the fish wasn’t coming from anyone else’s portion.
So why refuse?
If anything, the gesture only deepened the respect they already held for him.
Third Fish stared down at the fish in his hands.
For a moment, he seemed unable to believe it.
When the others accepted the decision, he slowly raised his head.
The fear in his eyes hadn’t disappeared completely, but something else had joined it.
Respect.
Perhaps even admiration.
"Thanks," he mumbled.
Then he shuffled back toward the fire.
"Leader, have mine."
Fish Twelve immediately held out her own roasted fish.
Third Fish stared at it.
Fish Leader smiled.
He reached over and gently rubbed the fin atop her head.
"Twelve, you’re still growing. You need it more than I do."
He pushed the fish back toward her.
"Don’t worry about my share. I’m fine."
She hesitated before reluctantly taking it back.
Her expression remained obedient, but something subtle flickered behind her eyes as she looked at him.
Fish Leader surveyed the gathered Murlocs.
For a moment, satisfaction settled across his face.
Fish Leader was Caelum.
This was a common practice among deities cultivating a newly established retinue.
Rather than ruling from above, a deity could disguise themselves as one of their own believers and gradually rise into a position of leadership.
Done correctly, the method offered two enormous advantages.
The deity could guide the race’s development from within while simultaneously cultivating faith from the very beginning.
Caelum had already done it once with the Hobgoblins.
By now, the process was almost second nature.
When he first activated the Murloc bloodline, he’d deliberately kept a portion of it sealed inside Hobgoblin Hall.
Two additional Murlocs had been created from that reserve, one male and one female.
Insurance.
If something went horribly wrong, he would still have a starting point from which to rebuild.
After assuming the appearance of a Murloc, Caelum had entered the settlement and defeated the other eleven Murlocs, establishing his dominance without question.
From there, he’d begun guiding their development.
But this time, he’d learned from his previous mistake.
With the Hobgoblins, he’d done everything for them.
He’d taught them language.
He’d provided tools.
He’d handled food gathering.
He’d practically spoon-fed them every step of their development.
The result had been a race that matured slowly and remained dependent on him for almost everything.
Eating.
Fighting.
Sleeping.
That was about it.
He wasn’t making the same mistake twice.
This time, Caelum would guide them.
He wouldn’t raise them himself.
For language, he’d scattered stone tablets covered in simple pictographs throughout the settlement.
Then he left the Murlocs to figure out what the symbols meant.
Whenever their pronunciation drifted too far from what he wanted, he subtly corrected them from the shadows.
That was all.
The rest came from them.
The knotted-rope counting system had technically been his suggestion, though even that had been indirect.
He’d simply wondered aloud, several times, whether there wasn’t an easier method of keeping track of quantities.
Something as simple and efficient as the markings on the stone tablets.
That was enough.
Several Murlocs began experimenting with the idea soon afterward.
Their first crude numerical notation emerged from their own efforts rather than direct instruction.
Among them, one Murloc had stood out from the beginning.
Fish Twelve.
She had essentially become the settlement’s translator for the stone tablets.
Her progress had been astonishing.
In a surprisingly short period, she’d learned enough to hold genuine conversations with Caelum.
That alone was rare.
But her talent didn’t stop there.
She took the knotted-rope system and developed it further, eventually marking quantities in the sand with simple dots.
Caelum suggested replacing the dots with horizontal lines after noticing how easily the markings disappeared beneath disturbed sand.
That tiny adjustment became the foundation for a more reliable numerical system.
Beyond that, Fish Twelve had gradually taken responsibility for much of the settlement’s daily management.
No one had appointed her.
She simply noticed what needed to be done and did it.
That was precisely why Caelum had begun paying closer attention to her.
From the moment he’d awakened this domain, Fish Twelve had been the believer he considered most likely to awaken as a Hero Unit.
A Hero Unit was the greatest individual a believer race could naturally produce.
They were followers capable of breaking beyond the inherent limits of their species.
With enough accumulated growth and the right catalyst, a Hero Unit could leap beyond their race’s original grade entirely, potentially advancing from low-grade to high-grade or even higher.
Their intelligence and combat abilities were usually far beyond those of their peers.
Leadership tended to come naturally to them.
On a battlefield, a Hero Unit could completely alter the course of a battle.
They could lead a decisive charge, stabilize a collapsing defensive line, or rally followers who would otherwise flee.
Some could even strengthen the combat abilities of those fighting beside them.
That ability was almost unheard of among ordinary followers.
Their value couldn’t be measured by grade alone.
Even deities who had cultivated their domains for decades, commanding retinues numbering in the millions, could go their entire careers without producing a single Hero Unit.
That was how rare they were.
And now, Caelum was watching the signs of one emerge right before his eyes.
His excitement was difficult to suppress.
Fish Twelve’s intelligence made the Hobgoblins look almost painfully primitive by comparison.
Every Hobgoblin had required constant guidance just to accomplish the simplest tasks.
The Wyrmspring Murlocs were already beginning to solve problems on their own.
’Fortunately, I pushed their intelligence as far as I could.’
Caelum glanced around the settlement.
’They’re close to the mid-grade baseline now. Fish Twelve is clearly the best, but Third Fish and the seventh Murloc have shown some promise as well.’
He mentally counted them.
’Eleven Murlocs, excluding myself.’
His gaze swept over the small settlement.
’Calling this a tribe is generous.’
A faint smile touched his lips.
’Ten thousand members... That’s still a very long way away.’
The fire crackled softly beside him.
Caelum lifted his head and looked toward the sky.
The night stretched endlessly above the settlement, scattered with countless stars.
His hand slowly curled into a fist.
This time, he wouldn’t repeat his old mistakes.
This time, he would build something that could survive.