The development of the initial housing plan and drainage system was progressing steadily. Some of the houses and key infrastructure were already in place, including the granary, storage pits, and workshops for the dwarves.

  Elder Ulganar surveyed the growing settlement with a satisfied smile. “Look at that! Our plan is finally taking shape. With everyone’s cooperation, we could have this finished in just another week.”

  Orrin wiped the sweat from his brow and nodded eagerly. “Yeah! At this rate, we might even be able to start working on the next phase—especially farming.”

  Elder Ulganar stroked his beard, his voice filled with both determination and pride. “Then farming will become our specialty as we move forward. After all, we were the ones who toiled in the fields when we were still slaves. But with the Terrakins’ knowledge of plants, our farming will be more efficient and progress much faster.”

  “Yeah, we’ll help with the farming too,” Orrin said, his voice steady with resolve. “And more than that, we’ll teach the others about plants—just as we promised. Knowledge is just as vital as the soil beneath our feet. If we share it, we all grow stronger.”

  Elder Ulganar’s gaze darkened, his fists clenching at his sides. “If only those still suffering in chains could taste this freedom… could feel the earth beneath their feet, not as prisoners, but as free people.” He took a deep breath, his voice thick with emotion. “We cannot waste this chance. We must give everything we have—build, grow, and strengthen—so that one day, we can go back for them. And when that day comes, we will not return empty-handed.”

  “Let’s go. We should put these old bones to work and help them with the task at hand,” Elder Ulganar said with a determined grin.

  While the others focused on their duties, Lakan trained alone, honing his skills through relentless monster hunts and refining his techniques and mana control. He roamed the vast forest, not only to strengthen himself but to familiarize himself with the terrain.

  But as he ventured farther from the base, something unusual caught his eye—bloody footprints trailing through the underbrush. His body tensed. Someone had passed through here... and they were wounded.

  Lakan’s instincts sharpened. Who could have wandered this deep into the forest? His grip on his weapon tightened as unease crept into his mind.

  “I need to follow these tracks,” he murmured to himself.

  Without hesitation, he leaped into the trees, swiftly moving from branch to branch, his eyes locked onto the crimson trail below. As he neared his target, the distant sound of hurried footsteps and frantic shouts reached his ears.

  Then, he saw them.

  A group unlike any he had ever encountered.

  One was a scaled, bipedal creature—its reptilian form bearing the posture and presence of a man. Beside it, an elf with ebony skin stood, their beauty both haunting and ethereal. And towering above the rest was a being with massive, curved horns, its bull-like features blending with a humanoid frame, exuding strength and power.

  Lakan’s breath hitched. Who are they? And why are they here?

  As the group moved forward, a pack of ravenous monsters stalked them from the shadows, drawn by the scent of blood. Step by step, the creatures gained ground, their eyes gleaming with hunger as they prepared to strike.

  Lakan’s sharp gaze caught sight of the looming danger. They won’t make it in time. Without hesitation, he sprang into action, dashing toward the approaching horde. He didn’t stop to consider whether the group might be wary of his magic—there was no time for doubt. He had to save them.

  “Mire Dominion!” Lakan roared, his voice cutting through the air.

  The ground trembled as his spell took hold. An advanced form of Mud Flow, Mire Dominion expanded across the battlefield, swallowing everything in its path. The monsters shrieked and thrashed, but the thick, sinking mire dragged them down, trapping them in its suffocating grip.

  Lakan exhaled, but he wasn’t done yet. His training had paid off—he could now wield mid-tier spells. Without missing a beat, he raised his hand and summoned blazing energy.

  “Fire Arrows!”

  A barrage of flaming arrows erupted into the air before raining down upon the helpless creatures. The moment they struck, explosions of fire engulfed the trapped monsters, their roars of fury turning into agonized screams. Within seconds, nothing remained but charred remains and smoldering embers.

  Lakan lowered his hand, his breath steady. It was over.

  The group froze in place, their breath caught in their throats as they watched the battle unfold. Fear gripped them—not just from the monsters, but from the lone warrior who had appeared out of nowhere. His overwhelming strength was undeniable. Wounded and exhausted, they knew that if he turned his power against them, they wouldn’t stand a chance.

  Lakan turned to face them, his sharp gaze meeting their wary, bloodied faces. He could see the fear in their eyes, the uncertainty. They think I might be a threat. He exhaled, lowering his guard slightly, determined to ease their tension.

  “I’m not your enemy," he said firmly. "I am like you—an oppressed soul, once bound in chains, now seeking freedom, a former slave. He reached into his pouch and pulled out a small glass vial. The faint glow of the liquid inside reflected against the fire lit sky.

  “I have a healing potion,” he continued, holding it up. “It’s not much—just one bottle—but it will at least stop the bleeding.” Lakan declared, showing the potion he had brought with him in case something went wrong during his journey through the forest.

  The group exchanged hesitant glances. Finally, a young Bullkin stepped forward, his massive frame still trembling from battle. His voice was cautious yet desperate.

  “Will you really help us? We… we have nothing to offer in return,” he admitted.

  Lakan met his gaze and nodded without hesitation. “Yes. I swear on my Father’s name, I will do you no harm.”

  A hush fell over the group.

  Swearing on one's parents was a sacred vow on this continent—a bond of truth stronger than any contract. To lie after invoking one’s family name would bring nothing but disgrace and humiliation, a stain upon one’s lineage that could never be washed away.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  The Bullkin's eyes softened. The tension in the air eased, though exhaustion still weighed heavily on them. The Bullkin who speak to Lakan move forward with cautious to take the potion.

  “Use this potion on those who are severely wounded to stop their bleeding,” Lakan instructed, his voice firm yet calm. “Then follow me—there are still monsters roaming around.”

  “Where are you taking us?” one of the Bullkin pleaded, desperation lacing his voice. “Please… just spare the children.”

  Lakan sighed, his expression softening. “Didn’t I tell you? I have no intention of harming anyone. I’m here to help—not just to help, but to give you a home.”

  The Bullkin hesitated, eyes filled with doubt. “Are you… are you sure?”

  A small smile tugged at Lakan’s lips. “Yes. I mean, why would I even help you in the first place if I meant any harm, right?” He let out a light chuckle before continuing, “And you don’t have to be so formal with me—just call me Lakan. I’m still just a kid, after all.”

  “Thank you!” The Bullkin said.

  “After you are done, with the treatment let’s get out of here before monsters come here” Lakan declares.

  With the wounded treated and patched up with healing potions, the group set off toward the base. Lakan took the lead, his sharp senses guiding them through the treacherous path, carefully avoiding lurking threats. Yet, their large numbers made their pace sluggish, every step weighed down by exhaustion and injury. The thick stench of blood clung to them like a beacon, drawing the attention of the creatures that prowled the night.

  “We’re almost at the nearest river. Just a little farther, and you can wash off that stench,” Lakan said.

  When they arrived at the river, the group immediately began bathing, scrubbing away the scent of blood and sweat. As darkness deepened, the journey became even more perilous. Fatigue set in, and the wounded struggled to keep up. Seeing their exhaustion, Lakan made the call to rest.

  With weariness weighing heavily on them, they had no choice but to sleep under the open sky, the cold ground offering little comfort. Some warriors remained awake, keeping watch with weapons in hand, their eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of movement.

  The night was long, filled with restless sleep and the ever-present fear of an ambush. But as the first light of dawn crept over the horizon, Lakan signaled for them to move once more. Their weary bodies pushed forward, determined to reach the safety of the base.

  "Wouldn’t your comrades be wary of us when you bring us there? Why are you not concerned?" the Bullkin asked, his voice edged with suspicion.

  Lakan met his gaze calmly. "Don’t worry. They already know we have Terrakins among us. The animals are being used to guard the forest’s perimeter," he revealed, hoping to ease the tension.

  They continued their journey in silence, the weight of uncertainty pressing on them. After some time, they arrived at the village. A group of leaders and several citizens stood waiting, their expressions unreadable.

  But the moment the newcomers stepped into view, murmurs erupted among the villagers, growing into a restless commotion.

  "Who... what are they?"

  "I’ve never seen their kind anywhere in the viscount’s lands!"

  "Could they be from another continent? When we were deployed to fight in Varkzar’s territories, we never encountered their race."

  "Look at the chains on their ankles... They were slaves!"

  "Some of them are wounded! What happened to them?"

  Meanwhile, the weary travelers stood frozen under the weight of countless stares. Their bodies ached, their wounds throbbed, and exhaustion pressed down on them like an iron shroud. Anxiety coiled in their chests—had they stumbled upon salvation, or were they walking into yet another danger?

  “Enough,” Elder Ulganar’s voice rang out, steady and firm. He stepped forward, silencing the murmurs. “They are starving. Bring them food.”

  “And get the healing potions,” Lakan added, his gaze sweeping over the wounded. “Some of them won’t last much longer without treatment.”

  As the travelers ate, warmth slowly returned to their limbs, though their wariness remained. When the meal was finished, Elder Ulganar rose once more, his expression unreadable.

  "Now," he said, his voice gentle yet assured. "Let’s sit and talk."

  The meeting began with several new adults from the group attending, all tense with uncertainty.

  “I am the Elder here,” Ulganar said, his voice steady but commanding. “My name is Ulganar. Let’s not waste time. Why are you from the western continent here? What brings you to these lands?”

  The group’s representative, a Bullkin, shifted nervously. The elder's piercing gaze made him fear the worst—that they would be sent back, or worse, forced to leave.

  “We… we were smuggled here illegally,” the Bullkin confessed, voice trembling slightly. “Some nobles in our country arranged it. Someone… someone wants to buy us.”

  Ulganar’s brow furrowed, but his voice remained calm. “You don’t seem to be lying. Then tell me this—how did you end up deep within our forest?”

  The Bullkin paused, collecting his thoughts before speaking, his voice growing heavier as he recalled the ordeal.

  “When we first arrived, the smugglers led us into the forest. I overheard them mention a kingdom called Zyptania. But things took a dark turn before we ever reached it.” Taurus’s voice grew heavy. “The noble’s forces ambushed our smugglers, cutting them down without hesitation. In the chaos, we became easy prey.”

  His eyes darkened with the memory. “A monster—drawn by the bloodshed—descended upon us. We ran, but not all of us escaped. Some were slain in the attack... others were taken.” His jaw tightened. “We kept running until Lakan found us and took us in.”

  Ulganar’s gaze sharpened with intrigue. “And what is your name?”

  “I am Taurus,” the Bullkin said, his broad chest swelling with a mix of pride and sorrow. “I am the eldest of my group. “I am the eldest of my group. All of us are between five and thirty years old. That is why we have so many children among us... and why so many others never made it.”

  Elder Ulganar regarded Taurus with a somber expression. “I’m sorry... that is truly unfortunate. But don’t worry—you can start anew here. We plan to build our own land, a place where we will be free.”

  "Thank you! We will stay here, but if the opportunity arises, I hope you will also help save those who were left behind in our homeland," Taurus said, his voice heavy with both gratitude and a lingering hope.

  "Do not worry. We will rescue them—one day. But it will not be easy. That is why we need every hand, every heart, and every soul willing to fight for it," Elder Ulganar declared, his voice thick with determination.

  As the meeting carried on, the door suddenly burst open. Mosswick stumbled inside, gasping for breath.

  "Another group of slaves—they're coming from the mountains!" His words were laced with urgency, his eyes wide with both fear and resolve.

  Elder Ulganar's expression darkened. "What? But how? How did they make it through the mountain range?"

  "They were prepared," Mosswick said, still catching his breath. "The birds saw them—they have enough food and supplies. They know what they're doing. At their current pace, they'll arrive in two days."

  "Tell your comrades to rest and recover for now. I'm sorry, but we have urgent matters to attend to," Elder Ulganar said, his tone firm yet apologetic.

  Without hesitation, he halted the meeting, shifting his focus to the approaching group of unknown slaves. Whether they came as allies or threats remained uncertain, and they could not afford to be unprepared.

  "Assemble the warriors and bring them here immediately," Lakan commanded, his voice resolute. "We must be ready for whoever is coming."

  A tense silence filled the room as warriors hurried to gather, their weapons gleaming in the dim light. The air was thick with uncertainty—friend or foe, salvation or danger, no one could yet say.

  Beyond the walls of their refuge, the wind howled through the mountains, carrying whispers of the unknown. The approaching figures drew closer with every passing moment, their fate intertwined with those who awaited them.

  Elder Ulganar stood tall, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "Whatever comes, we face it together," he murmured, his voice steady with resolve.