As the sun slowly dipped below the horizon, the last traces of twilight lingered across the sky, painting the forest in shades of orange and deep violet. The air had begun to cool, carrying with it the faint scent of ash and damp earth—a reminder of the battles that had only recently ended. At the center of a small clearing, a fire crackled steadily, its warm glow casting flickering shadows over the gathered figures. Arin sat among them, surrounded by his family, a simple bowl of vegetable mash resting in his hands. No one spoke much as they ate, though the silence was not uncomfortable—it was heavy, expectant. Unbeknownst to most of them, this would be the last time they would share a proper meal like this for a while. Far away, decisions had already been made. Rations would soon be reduced to the bare minimum, and luxuries such as this simple dish would become a memory.
The quiet did not last forever. "So, Arin," Karl finally said, his voice cutting cleanly through the stillness, "why have you called for a family council?" The warmth that usually defined his tone when speaking to his grandchildren was gone, replaced by something far more severe. His gaze was sharp, unwavering. "You understand what that entails, don't you?" Around him, the elders sat in a semicircle, their expressions equally serious. Behind them, the rest of the family remained seated slightly apart, watching in silence. Arin straightened instinctively under the weight of their attention and nodded. "Yes, I understand," he replied. The words came calmly, but the gravity behind them was unmistakable. A family council was not something invoked lightly. The last time it had been called was thirty years ago, when Karl himself had taken the position of head after his predecessor passed peacefully. To summon one now meant that whatever Arin had to say carried consequences that could affect them all—no matter where they were in the world.
"I wouldn't make light of something like this," Arin continued, lowering his head briefly in respect as he addressed the elders. "And I'm grateful that you all agreed to gather, even though not everyone could be here in person." When he raised his head again, his expression had changed. The hesitation was gone, replaced by quiet determination. "As you all know, after the fighting in the forest, our family is currently in a… favorable position. People are beginning to rely on us. Some are even trying to curry favor." A few murmurs spread among the family at that, though none interrupted him. "The reason is simple," Arin went on. "We have the ability to change the battlefield almost instantly—if we locate the evolved goblins." That fact alone had elevated their standing in ways none of them had expected. However, Arin's gaze darkened slightly as he continued. "But that advantage won't last."
The murmurs grew louder, tinged now with unease and even a hint of indignation. Arin did not pause. "Across the world, governments and military organizations are already working on training programs," he said. "They're trying to replicate what we can do—our speed, our accuracy, our methods." This time, several members of the family openly reacted, some scoffing, others frowning deeply. The idea that outsiders could imitate techniques refined over generations was difficult to accept. Still, Arin pressed on. "And when they succeed—and they will succeed—they won't need us anymore." His voice remained steady, but his words carried a quiet certainty. "At best, we'll be cast aside. At worst…" He let the thought hang for a moment before finishing, "…we'll be pushed down."
That silenced the gathering. The older members of the family, those who had seen more of the world and its shifting loyalties, understood all too well what he meant. Trust and usefulness were fleeting currencies, and once they ran out, protection often vanished with them. "We may have Marshal Herman's support right now," Arin continued, "but relying entirely on one person is too dangerous. If something changes—if his position weakens or he is replaced—we'll be exposed." The weight of that truth settled over the group like a shadow. Then, after a brief pause, Arin spoke again. "That's why I'm proposing something different. After this trial ends, we establish our own faction. We train our own archers, using our methods, and form specialized groups that can be hired by countries and organizations. Scouting. Assassination. Precision operations. We control our value instead of waiting for others to decide it."
When he finished speaking, the silence that followed was deeper than before. This time, however, it wasn't uncertainty—it was disbelief. The idea itself was logical, even necessary, but coming from Arin, it felt almost unreal. He had never been one to seek out others. If anything, he avoided strangers whenever possible. The thought of him suggesting that they teach outsiders their carefully preserved knowledge—skills honed and guarded over centuries—felt contradictory. It was Karl who broke the silence before anyone else could respond emotionally. "I assume," he said slowly, "that you're not finished." His gaze remained fixed on Arin, sharp and calculating. "You know how this family operates. We don't trust outsiders easily. Teaching them what we've built over generations…" He shook his head slightly. "…requires more than just necessity. So tell me—what else is there?"
Arin scratched the back of his head, a faint, almost sheepish expression appearing for a brief moment. "Yeah… that's not all," he admitted. Despite the situation, there was a hint of satisfaction in his eyes—he had expected resistance, but he hadn't expected his grandpa to see through him so quickly. Meanwhile, Karl's expression seemed to say that he had anticipated exactly this. "The reason I came out of the forest later than everyone else," Arin continued, "was because I stayed behind to check something." He paused for effect before adding, "I visited the shop. And… I spoke with the system."
That statement broke the tension entirely, replacing it with shock. "Wait—what do you mean you spoke with the system?" Jonhy asked immediately, leaning forward with visible excitement. "Isn't it just some kind of emotionless construct?" Arin gave an awkward smile. "That's what I thought too," he admitted. "But it's not that simple." He took a moment to gather his thoughts before explaining. "The system can communicate. It's… tied to our race, in a way. It grows as we grow, and because of that, it seems to have an interest in anything that helps it develop further." The clearing fell silent again, but this time it was a different kind of silence—one filled with curiosity rather than disbelief. "It's not completely free," Arin continued. "It still follows its own rules. But within those limits, it can act… and it can choose to interact."
He crossed his arms lightly, a hint of pride returning to his expression. "And for some reason, our family situation caught its attention." That drew even Karl's full focus. "It recognized potential," Arin said. "Not just in our skills, but in what we could become if we expanded." He glanced around at his family, meeting their eyes one by one. "It's willing to invest in that." No one spoke, but the shift in the atmosphere was undeniable. What had started as a controversial proposal was beginning to look like an opportunity. Karl leaned forward slightly, his earlier skepticism now replaced with clear interest. "If what you're saying is true," he said slowly, "then this changes everything." His eyes narrowed just slightly. "So tell us, Arin… what exactly did you discuss with the system?"
The fire crackled softly between them as all attention returned to Arin, the weight of expectation now heavier than ever.