While the different factions had gathered in full and were planning their assault on the Goblin Tribes to kill their King, the Goblins themselves hadn’t been stagnant.

  They too were coming up with plans of their own.

  …

  “They’ve retreated, you say?”

  Chief Galgo looked over towards Chief Grul, who provided the report.

  “Yes, every single one of them has left the forest that surrounds us. Both the wolves and the humans.”

  “Tch... I still think it would’ve been better to just kill them all right then and there.”

  “Rogur, we have talked about this. It is best that we save all of our options until it is time. The humans should have a much better idea of our strength due to the one we allowed to escape, so let’s not confirm their suspicions just yet.

  “We did enough. Half of them will sleep forever in the Dark Lands of Mir, and the other half will dream about it. Let’s focus on what comes next. What else did you find, Grul?”

  “There is a large group of humans outside of our forests. I wasn’t able to get an accurate number just due to how many powerful presences I could feel from the camp, but there were thousands of them.

  “Thousands.

  “And I think more or less the same amount of Tier Seven beings as us. If there was one above Tier Seven, then I wasn’t strong enough to find them. And just like the group that just ran from the forest, there are both demi-humans and humans mixed into the camp. That’s all I could gather from a distance without exposing myself.”

  Silence descended in the room after Chief Grul finished giving his report.

  All the Chiefs had already been preparing for a grim situation, but actually hearing just how grim of a situation they found themselves in would also be a sort of dampener.

  More or the same amount of Tier Seven beings was essentially saying that they would be matched for peak power. That alone would disrupt most of the best-case scenarios they could plan for themselves.

  If they were matched in number, then it would mean that they would also have to fend for themselves on the battlefield.

  There would be no help coming to save them, and their life and death would be in their own hands.

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  But that wasn’t the problem.

  They were 14 Chiefs of the Dark Lands of Mir. It was only right that they were first in the line to battle, and every single one of them was ready to lay down their lives if it meant one more Goblin would live to see another day.

  This was their responsibility.

  Especially since all of them had drunk the blood of the King. Something like that came with the pressure of race as well. To be so privileged that they could be chosen to advance to the Seventh Tier.

  So no, their battles weren’t the problem.

  The problem was the other Goblins.

  Their enemies would not wait for the Chiefs to conclude their battles. No, it was likely that their entire force would be attacking at once, and with the Chiefs preoccupied, it would be up to the other Goblins to fight their own battles just like the Chiefs were doing.

  This was always going to happen. They knew a long time ago that the other Goblins would have to fight their own battles.

  That is why they were being pushed so hard. That is why they were allowed to fight all those knights who invaded not that long ago.

  They all knew, and they prepared for it.

  But… that didn’t mean they had to like it. Especially since they knew that Rick, their King, would not be happy about the loss of life.

  After a few more moments were spent collecting themselves, a robust planning session took place.

  They went into this planning session with two goals in mind. Two very simple ones at that: survive and keep the death count as low as possible. The first goal was because of something they were ashamed to admit.

  Defeating the attackers and forcing them to retreat in full would likely be far too big of a challenge for them at this point. They were confident that they wouldn’t be defeated after just a few days of battle, but to win the battle was another story.

  One they weren’t sure would reach a happy ending.

  So, they would focus on survival.

  With the goal, of course, being that they would survive until their King returned. Although not a single one of them wanted him to leave and face so much danger without them being there, they all had the utmost amount of confidence in their King.

  There was not a shred of doubt in their minds that their King would return to them. He would return. They were sure of it. And not only would he return, but he would be stronger than ever before.

  Strong enough to destroy those who dared to invade the Dark Lands of Mir in search of his head.

  So it would be their job as his Chiefs to ensure that there were still 14 Goblin Clans to be protected when the King returned.

  He was doing his part, and they would do theirs. It was that simple.

  The Goblins continued their planning efforts through the night, and by the end of it all, one thing would be clear:

  No Chief would be able to spare the time to watch over the front lines anymore. If they were going to be matched in power, then it wouldn’t be smart to weaken themselves even further. No matter what, a sacrifice had to be made somewhere, and they had deemed the front lines the place where it would be.

  Thankfully for the Goblins, it wasn’t just Commander Meegra who managed to advance to the Sixth Tier.

  There were more than a few others who now claimed that Tier.

  It would be up to three from that new batch of Tier Six Goblins to handle the front lines. If for some reason the rare occurrence of a Tier Seven showing up there happened, then they would have no choice but to hold on until help arrived.

  Of course, they factored in the possibility that their King should be stirring up a storm deeper within the Dark Lands of Mir by now. Hopefully, that meant any prospective Tier Sevens would be too distracted to attack.

  That was all they could do.

  Hope.