The private houses in the mine's upper levels were a far cry from the crude buildings below. Byung had claimed a new quarters he had built from scratch to accommodate Maui's size—a small cave expanded with rough stone walls, a sturdy wooden door for privacy, and a low bed piled wit leaves. Wooden torches hung from chains, casting a warm, golden glow that softened the shadows but couldn't hide the cracks in the rock or the faint smell of damp earth. Maui had been given the night off; Byung had insisted, seeing how Naz's childbirth had left her drained.

"Go be with your friends," he had said, his voice steady but distant.

"Naz needs you more than I do tonight," Byung said and Maui initially hesitated, her eyes searching his face for something unspoken, but she had nodded and left, the door clicking shut behind her.

Byung sat alone on the bed's edge, staring at his hands—hands that had changed, grown stronger, more human-like in their proportions yet he felt less human, the irony wrote itself. The silence was broken by a soft knock. He looked up as Murkfang slipped in, the door creaking on its hinges. The goblin was still bandaged, moving with a limp, but his eyes were sharp, filled with concern.

"Mind if I come in?" Murkfang asked, voice rough from his injuries but he could power through it because the worse had passed.

This was nothing compared to the injuries Byung had gotten yet Byung was somehow in a better state than him.

Byung gestured to a crate across from him.

"Sit. What's on your mind?" Byung began the conversation because Murkfang had a look of concern on them.

Murkfang eased himself down, wincing as his ribs protested. He studied Byung for a long moment, taking in the changes: the taller frame, the sharper jaw, the deeper green eyes that seemed to hold shadows now.

"You've been acting strange since you came back," Murkfang said finally, his tone careful but direct.

"Not just the looks—the way you talk, the way you look at us. Are you okay, Byung? Really okay?" Murkfang wanted Byung to know he could tell him anything just like he had done him.

Byung met his gaze, and for a split second, something flickered behind those eyes—something cold, distant. Then he forced a smile, the kind that didn't reach his soul.

"I'm perfectly fine," Byung said, voice even.

"Better than fine. We've won, Murkfang. The mine's ours again. What more could I want?" Byung tried to play it off but he was too tired to pretend.

Murkfang saw through it like glass. The fake smile, the deflection—it was a mask. Byung had saved his life, pulled him from the brink of death in Elandor, carried him through hell. Murkfang owed him everything—his loyalty, his honesty. He leaned forward, ignoring the stab in his side.

"Don't bullshit me. You've changed. And not just on the outside. You're colder. Like something's eating at you," Murkfang addressed him like he would a friend. The wall that separated them had been eroded which meant they no longer viewed each other with the causal lens.

Byung's smile faded. He stood, pacing the small space, his new height making the chamber feel even smaller.

"You think we can take the world, Murkfang? Really take it?" Byung questioned.

"What? Where's this coming from?" The question caught Murkfang off guard, his brow furrowing. Murkfang thought about his response for a minute because he could see that this was a serious question. Byung stopped, turning to face him, his expression hardening.

"I thought we could coexist. Orcs, goblins, humans—find a way to live without the killing. I was wrong. They hate us. Always will. We can't get along," Byung came to this conclusion but the way he became violent and killed a few orcs, he knew this hate was mutual.

It was like it was built into their genetics and Byung was simply a vessel to act out the violence.

Murkfang shook his head, leaning on his knees.

"Wait—Naz, Maui, Naruz. They're orcs. You've unified them with us. That's proof it can work. They're family now and you made that possible," Murkfang reminded him.

Byung remained silent for a long moment, his eyes distant, like he was staring into a void only he could see. Murkfang pressed on. "Other races don't understand us because... well, look at the other areas. Venture beyond this mine, and you'll see goblins as violent as any orc tale. Raiding, killing, no mercy. Every race has reasons for fear and disgust. Vrognut's proof of that—the cannibal was left unchecked. But We... we're not cursed with this darkness. That's affected our rule, made us think peace is possible. Drekk despised us for it, but he never forced change. Long as quotas were met, he let us be," Murkfang said which also showed Drekk was a goblin who might have grown to like this change despite him being on the more violent side. Outside of the abuse, that is.

However, it was also because Drekk believed the Goblin King would punish him for harming one of his own.

Byung's shoulders relaxed slightly, a faint smile touching his lips—not the fake one, but something real, if fleeting. It made him feel better, eased the knot in his chest. Deep down, he knew he had been naive thinking coexistence was easy. But he had accomplished one part of his goal: unifying a few orcs with goblins, proving it could happen. Now it was time to take over the orcs' territory, to build something stronger from the ruins.

Because with orcs added to his army, he would have the physical strength to use against others because no one could beat the orcs in a test of strength.

"Thanks," Byung said softly.

"I needed to hear that," Byung added.

Murkfang nodded, but the worry lingered. Byung was different—colder, yes, but also driven by something new, something hungry. As he left the chambers, Murkfang hoped the old Byung wasn't lost forever.

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