Since the Dalorians had managed to capture ground in the Plains, a military camp was built some distance away from their walls.

  Admiral Prag was stationed here, and he looked on to the approaching army and the flying monster in the skies with a grim expression.

  He didn’t need someone to tell him that Dalor was now going to be stuck between a rock and a hard place.

  On one side there were the Fraconians, with whom the young King was successfully pushing back, but not enough to be considered winning. Then on this side there were the Orcs. Before the Admiral managed to break through the situation was utterly dire, and it was only upon reaching the 7th Tier and using decades of experience to outmaneuver the Orcs that they were able to push back.

  But the situation had changed.

  Dalor only two had two Tier 7 combatants.

  Now they were faced with three.

  The Admiral stood up in the camp, and through gritted teeth, sounded the order to retreat.

  Because of this, they would lose all of the hard fought progress they made until this point as they backed off all the way to back inside their Nation’s walls.

  Of course, the Rygern, and the pursuing Orc Army, wouldn’t let them off so easily. They wanted to send a message. One that would be both physically and emotionally hard to recover from.

  At the behest of the War Chief, the army stormed into the camp at blistering speed and tore into the retreating rear of the enemy.

  The Admiral of course did his best to shield his people, but the Rygern wasn’t giving him the chance to breathe.

  It swooped down many times, striking its mighty talons directly at the waiting Admiral and pushing him back.

  If that was it, then things wouldn’t be too terrible, but the powerful wind that was generated from the wings of the Rygern tore in the backs of the retreating Dalorians.

  The Admiral created shields of water in an effort to protect as many of his people as he could, but doing so while fighting the Rygern was a strain even for him.

  By the time the Dalorians had managed to get behind their walls, the Admiral himself had picked up a few new wounds, some more vital than others and more than a few hundred of his people had perished.

  The message from the Orcs was well received.

  Since the War Chief himself didn’t move a muscle the entire time.

  That alone was another message by itself.

  The [Check Name] landed next to the War Chief stayed in the rear for the entire duration of the battle and was now calmly watching his army return after devastation the enemy.

  “We could’ve finished them off. Why didn’t you join.”

  The War Chief slowly turned his gaze towards the Rygern, who towered over him. He stared at it for a few moments. Almost as if he was deciding if the Rygern was worth a response.

  “…Their time will come. These humans…they fight differently when pushed too far too quickly. We don’t have time for a siege.

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  “For now…there is a pest that is in much more need of death.” The words of the War Chief seemed to be laced with venom when he spoke about the Goblins who he was forced to let go a few months ago.

  “And that prideful snake…he too will get his due.”

  “Fine. When do we move?”

  “Soon. We will move soon.”

  “…I’ll be waiting.”

  The Rygern then lifted off from the ground with a loud flap of its wings before flying off into the direction of the mountains.

  Of course, even he made sure to avoid dwarven airspace as he traversed the area.

  Meanwhile the War Chief watched as his army began settling into the now abandoned camp of the Dalorians.

  His face was perpetually in the constant scowl by this point and the other Orcs were practically walking on pins and needles as they carried out their duties with rapt attention.

  By now it was nightfall, and while the Dalorians hadn’t left the confines of their Nation, many of them were stationed along their walls, with bows and other means of long distance warfare.

  They were ready and waiting for a siege.

  A siege that would not come.

  The War Chief was now in a tent with a few of his Generals.

  “You.” He pointed towards one of his generals.

  A Tier 6 Orc by the name of Mukra.

  “Yes, War Chief.”

  “Take a 1000. Move to the Forest. Do. Not. Enter.”

  Power radiated around the room as the War Chief made his intentions known.

  The Orcs quickly moved as they were told and began picking and choosing who would be a part of the 1000.

  While there were doing that…

  The War Chief slowly left the tent.

  Walking forward calmly until the men guarding the walls could just barely make it out his figure, as the light from their torches flickered around him.

  Power immediately began gathering around him.

  Large waves of mana, along with the powerful Will of a Tier 7 Being began gathering in droves.

  Many alarms and shouts began sounding on the wall as even they could tell that something was about to happen…

  And it did.

  The War Chief let out a grunt before vanishing from his spot, instantly reappearing at the walls of the Nation and delivering a massive blow with nothing but his fist.

  BOOOOOOOM!!!

  That entire section of the wall exploded as stone and debris flew everywhere.

  Admiral Prag, who had long since heard the commotion, was arriving in time just to see the War Chief delivering a fist covered in a red aura to his face.

  Another loud crash resounded.

  Only there was no follow up as the Massive Orc that was the War Chief only grunted once more in frustration before leaving altogether as the Nation of Dalor began waking up.

  They would only find destruction, and an even more injured Admiral Prag.

  Of course, while that was happening, Mukra had long since gathered the required Orcs and using the dark of night, and the destruction caused by the War Chief, departed with none the wiser.

  Their destination being the Nameless Forest

  It would take them a few weeks to reach it.

  A few weeks before the war that Rick and every other Goblin in the area were doing their best to prepare for.

  A war that would sear itself into the mind of Rick for the rest of his life.

  Speaking of Rick…It was now three full days that had passed for his evolution.

  The tension in the Village hadn’t dropped for even a moment.

  Part of the reason was to of course be ready to protect Rick at a moment’s notice. While the other part was because neither the Serpent nor the Fox had left since they arrived.

  Just remaining in their positions and calmly observing the evolution taking place.

  Which is why, they were the first ones to sense when Rick eyes slowly began to flutter.

  And they were the first ones to sense when they slowly but surely opened…

  And finally…they were the first ones to sense the powerful thrum of power that seemingly exploded out of Rick.

  Woosh!

  A few Goblins stumbled, trees were shaken, and eyes of both the Serpent and the Fox narrowed suspiciously…of course to Rogu…they looked more dangerous than suspicious.

  He too felt the power that came from Rick and likely continued for a few miles form that area, causing the trees to shake as if a strong wind just came by.

  And as much as he wanted to rush to Rick’s side at the moment, he knew he was serving his Future King best here. Standing guard in the face of two Tier 7 beings.

  Rick who was still feeling very groggy…slowly sat up in his home….slowing feeling a vast power welling up in his body…slowly feeling where that power was coming from.

  He took a deep breath.

  Then brought up his status.

  “HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!”

  A loud laugh began to resound in the area in true Rick fashion.

  The Future King of Goblins woke up and greeted the watching Goblins and the spectating Tier 7 beings with a boisterous laugh.

  Though…if Rick knew it would be a long time before he got to laugh like that again, he perhaps would’ve laughed longer…

  ~ Book Two End ~