Eli came to a halt a few paces from them, his expression unreadable, his voice cutting cleanly through the thick air.
"Your chief is dead," he said, his tone calm but heavy. "Along with every other goblin from your clan who isn't standing here right now."
The words landed like stones in still water—no one spoke, no one dared to move. The surviving goblins could only stare at him, their bodies trembling despite the stillness. To them, Eli wasn't a savior or a conqueror; he was the demon who had singlehandedly destroyed everything they had ever known.
"You're probably wondering what happens next," he continued, beginning to pace slowly, his gaze sweeping over them one by one. "Whether you'll end up like the others… or if you still have a place in this world."
Silence followed, thick and suffocating.
Then, a voice broke it.
"If you're going to kill us, then just get it over with," Zivra said.
Eli stopped mid-step, his eyes narrowing slightly.
