On the western edge of the vast Great Frazes Forest lay a massive cave system that was dark, ancient, and teeming with powerful monsters: Transta’s Stronghold. Deep within its labyrinthine depths, at the very heart of the stronghold, ruled a single being who commanded them all, a monster known only as Transta.
A subordinate knelt low before the creature’s resting place, delivering his report with caution.
“Lord Transta, I bring news. A town has been expanding rapidly near our territory. It is led by a human, but inhabited by goblins, orcs, and other monsters. It has grown enough to encroach dangerously close to your domain.”
“Huh? What’s that now?” Transta mumbled, barely lifting his head.
To any casual observer, he looked like nothing more than an ordinary white cat curled up on a plush cushion, tail flicking lazily as he lay sprawled across a stone dais.
This was how he always looked. Relaxed. Bored. Soft and entirely unthreatening.
Appearances, in his case, were beyond deceiving.
“Can’t you lot just go squash them yourselves?” he yawned. “Should be easy.”
“Whether it will be easy or not… we don’t yet have enough intelligence to say,” the subordinate replied cautiously. “But I believe it would be unwise to underestimate them.”
“You’re still the same worrywart as always, Robe,” Transta muttered, rolling onto his side without opening his eyes. “Do whatever you want. I’m staying right here. Don’t involve me unless things get really annoying.”
The one called Robe bowed deeply. Unlike most of Transta’s followers, Robe appeared human at a glance. He was cloaked in a black mantle, his expression unreadable, his voice cold as stone. Without another word, he turned and left the chamber.
Soon after, he gathered several key monsters in a side hall within the stronghold.
“As of now,” Robe announced, “Lord Transta has entrusted full authority to me regarding the expanding town. I’ll be taking command of all operations concerning this matter.”
“Perfect!” came a bright, eager voice. “I’ll go flatten it right now.”
Robe narrowed his eyes at the speaker. “No, Rook. That sort of reckless approach won’t be tolerated.”
The boy who spoke, barely more than a teenager, grinned beneath his unruly bangs. His feline ears twitched with amusement. Energetic, impulsive, and always spoiling for a fight, Rook was as dangerous as he was impatient.
Robe ignored the boy’s sulking and turned instead to a tall, thin figure standing motionless by the wall.
“You’ll go, Shamat,” he said. “Start with reconnaissance. I want every detail about this town: its leadership, defenses, and military potential. Move carefully.”
The lizardman, Shamat, stood perfectly still. Not a twitch. Not a nod.
“Hey, Shamat! Are you even listening?” Robe’s voice cracked through the chamber like a whip, sharp with irritation and already fraying at the edges of patience.
Shamat jolted as if physically struck. His shoulders tensed, and he spun around with a guilty grin. “Ah, sorry, boss. I totally zoned out for a sec,” he said, voice breezy, one clawed hand scratching awkwardly at his scaled neck.
“Don’t zone out!” Robe snapped, throwing up a hand in frustration.
Shamat only tilted his head, all innocence and lazy charm. “So… what were we talking about again?” he asked, still smiling as though they were chatting about the weather.
Robe stared at him for a long second. The fury drained from his face, replaced by something closer to resignation. With a deep sigh, he rubbed his temples. “I need you to scout the town. Can you handle that?”
“Uh, sure, I can… but like, which town are we talking about exactly?” Shamat asked, blinking as though the answer he sought would somehow be new information.
“You haven’t been listening at all, have you?” Robe asked flatly, his tone hollow.
“Nope. Not a word,” Shamat replied cheerfully, completely unfazed.
Robe groaned and buried his face in both hands. “Why do I even bother…”
Despite everything, he knew the truth: beneath Shamat’s airheaded attitude was a razor-sharp operative. Annoying? Yes. Exasperating? Absolutely. But reliable when it counted.
He straightened and looked Shamat dead in the eye. “Fine. I’ll explain it again. From the top.”
After a second detailed rundown of the situation, Robe finally paused. Shamat, at least pretending to be focused this time, gave a casual salute.
“Got it. I’ll go get the info on that town. Leave it to me,” he said with a wink, already shouldering his travel pack.
“I’m counting on you,” Robe said quietly, more to himself than anyone else.
Without another word, Shamat turned and strolled out of the stronghold with a spring in his step, vanishing into the gloom of the forest beyond.
The clash between the forces of Beresdral and the monsters lurking in Transta’s stronghold was about to begin.