As the last Spitfire collapsed with a final, gurgling croak, the battlefield fell silent once more. Poison hissed uselessly into the rain-soaked ground, and the massive bodies of the two adults lay motionless among shattered trees and torn earth.
Only one remained.
The baby Spitfire stood frozen near the edge of the clearing, its small body trembling. Its wide eyes darted between the goblins, Slug, and me, as if it knew that running would be pointless.
Slowly, I approached it.
Every instinct screamed at me to finish it—this world rewarded hesitation with death—but another thought surfaced. A half-forgotten legend. A skill spoken of only in old kingdom stories, whispered about as myth rather than reality.
I stopped a few steps away and raised my hand.
The goblins murmured behind me, tension rippling through the ranks, but I ignored them. The baby Spitfire hesitated… then cautiously stepped closer. Its cool, slick skin brushed against my palm.
I inhaled.
And activated the skill.
/Tame/
Light exploded between us.
A blinding glow surged outward, washing over the clearing much like the moment I had bound Slug to me. My head throbbed violently as power was ripped from my body.
-99 MP
The cost nearly drove me to my knees, but I stayed standing as a second screen materialized before my eyes.
/New beast tamed. Please assign it a name./
My heart pounded.
A beast… tamed.
I stared at the small Spitfire for a moment, then spoke the name that surfaced without hesitation.
"Lance."
The moment the word left my lips, light flared again—brighter than before.
I shielded my eyes, and when the glow finally faded, my breath caught in my throat.
The baby Spitfire was gone.
In its place stood a fully grown creature.
Lance towered over the goblins, standing an impressive six and a half feet tall—just slightly shorter than my own height of six-six. His body was lean rather than bloated, powerful without being grotesque. Gone was the sickly coloration of the Spitfires we had fought.
Instead, his skin was a smooth, pale white—reminiscent of the White Tree Frogs spoken of in elven records, creatures said to be sacred guardians of ancient groves. His eyes were sharp and intelligent, glowing faintly as they met mine.
The goblins stared in stunned silence.
Slug let out a low, impressed chuckle.
I felt it then—a new presence in my mind. Loyal. Curious. Ready.
I exhaled slowly, rain dripping from my hair, and looked across the battlefield—at my army, my lieutenant, and now my beast.
This wasn't just power anymore.
This was the beginning of something unstoppable.
After everything finally settled, I took a step back from the battlefield and exhaled slowly. My body felt heavy—drained in a way that went deeper than muscle or bone. The rain no longer felt cold against my skin. If anything, I barely felt it at all.
I focused inward.
At my command, the familiar translucent screen unfolded before my eyes.
Name: Amos Ryder
Class: True Hybrid
HP: 60 / 100
MP: 1 / 100
Strength: D
Intelligence: D
Constitution: D
Dexterity: C
Wisdom: S
I stared at the numbers, my exhaustion momentarily forgotten.
Sixty HP.
One MP.
I had pushed myself far closer to death than I realized.
Then my eyes narrowed.
Strength: D
Constitution: D
My breath hitched.
Just this morning, both of those stats had been E.
That wasn't possible.
Normally, increasing a stat even by a fraction took weeks—months, in some cases. Training, near-death experiences, elixirs, blessings… all of it barely nudged the numbers. And yet, in a single day, my body had crossed an entire rank.
I clenched my fist, feeling the difference immediately. My muscles felt denser, more responsive. My breathing steadied faster than it should have after a fight like that. Even the ache in my ribs was already beginning to dull.
It wasn't natural growth.
It was adaptation.
My gaze drifted to my class.
True Hybrid.
A class that allowed its bearer to use the abilities of other races and classes.
Maybe it wasn't just letting me use those powers.
Maybe it was forcing my body to evolve fast enough to survive them.
The realization sent a chill through me—equal parts awe and unease.
If this was what one day could do to me…
What would I become after a week?
After a month?
I lowered the status screen and looked back at my army—goblins standing tall despite their wounds, Slug watching everything with quiet approval, and Lance resting nearby like a living weapon bound to my will.
Power like this wasn't meant to be used carefully.
It was meant to change the world.
And for the first time, I understood something terrifying.
The world wouldn't be able to stop me if it tried.
I turned to face the gathered goblins, my katars still slick with the blood of the Spitfires, and spoke in a voice that left no room for hesitation.
"Today marks the first day of the Empire of Amos," I declared, letting each word cut through the rain-soaked air. "We will train, we will grow stronger, and soon—Grimrest will fall. That will be the true beginning of our empire. And when it is done, the world will no longer be shackled by useless wars."
For a heartbeat, the forest and camp held its breath. Then the silence shattered.
Shouts erupted from the goblins, raw and fierce. Cheers rang through the air, swords clashing against each other in celebration. My name—Amos—echoed from dozens of voices, each chant growing louder, prouder.
I allowed myself a small smile, letting the surge of their loyalty and excitement wash over me. This—this was the first step. The first spark in a flame that would soon consume everything standing in our way.
I began walking into the camp, my katars swinging lightly at my sides. The goblins fell into step behind me, their steps echoing against the damp ground, the crude walls of the camp, and the wooden buildings inside. They were mine, all of them, and I could feel the weight of responsibility settling on my shoulders—but it wasn't heavy. It was invigorating.
Lance, the baby Spitfire I had tamed, bounded forward with a powerful hop. The ground shook beneath him, the wooden walls rattling violently with each landing. I had to hold back a laugh, mixed with irritation.
"Lance," I said, raising my voice so he could hear over the cheers, "stay outside for now. You'll crush the camp if you keep hopping like that."
The Spitfire paused mid-step, cocking his head as if he understood perfectly. Then, with a small, almost annoyed grunt, he settled at the edge of the camp, his massive eyes tracking me and the goblins with a strange mixture of curiosity and loyalty.
I continued walking, feeling the energy of my new army behind me. Every goblin, every weapon, every chant was a promise. They had chosen me, and in return, I would give them purpose, strength, and a future free from the endless wars of petty gods.
And in that moment, standing in the rain, flanked by goblins and beasts alike, I realized just how close I was to taking the first real step toward reshaping the world.
This was no longer just survival. This was the beginning of an empire.
An empire that would answer only to me.