The training grounds were now located on the northern edge of the settlement, a wide clearing that had been deliberately flattened and reinforced with earth manipulation. Weapon racks lined one side, filled with practice weapons of various types—wooden swords, blunted spears, padded maces, and training axes of different sizes. Training dummies stood at attention along the far edge, many of them already bearing the scars of countless practice sessions, their straw stuffing exposed where particularly enthusiastic strikes had torn through the canvas covering.

Despite the early hour—dawn was still at least thirty minutes away, the sky just beginning to lighten from black to deep purple at the eastern horizon—the training grounds weren't empty.

The sound of metal clashing against metal rang out clearly in the pre-dawn stillness, sharp and rhythmic, accompanied by heavy breathing and the shuffle of feet against packed earth. Satou and Lyra approached quietly, neither wanting to interrupt what was clearly an intense sparring match taking place in the center of the cleared area.

Two figures moved in the training circle, circling each other with the focused intensity of genuine combat rather than casual practice. Even from a distance, Satou could see the sweat gleaming on their skin, the tension in their muscles, the absolute concentration in their postures. This wasn't a friendly morning workout—this was serious training, the kind that pushed bodies and skills to their limits.

Satou recognized them immediately and felt surprise mixed with profound satisfaction.

Kelvin, moved with the fluid grace that came from months of dedicated training under Urgak's harsh tutelage. He wielded a spear, his preferred weapon with confidence that would have been absolutely unthinkable when Satou had first evolved him from a mere goblin into a hobgoblin just a few months ago. His stance was textbook perfect, his movements economical and precise, his eyes tracking his opponent with the sharp focus of a seasoned warrior rather than an enthusiastic amateur.

His breathing was controlled despite the obvious exertion, chest rising and falling in measured rhythm. The spear in his hands moved like an extension of his body, the tip tracking his opponent's movements with deadly accuracy, adjusting and readjusting as he looked for openings in what appeared to be formidable defenses.

But it was his opponent that made Satou stop completely, his eyes widening with genuine surprise and pleasure.

"Is that Griminir?" he whispered to Lyra, barely believing what he was seeing. The transformation was so complete that for a moment he'd actually doubted his own eyes.

"That's Griminir," Lyra confirmed, her own voice carrying notes of impressed approval as she too observed the sparring match. "He's been training with Urgak personally for the past month, ever since you went to help Seraphine. The transformation is... remarkable doesn't begin to cover it."

Remarkable was a massive understatement.

The last time Satou had seen Griminir was a long time, he was one of the very first goblins he'd evolved and named in those early, desperate days after fleeing the cave massacre—the hobgoblin had been lean and wiry, favoring speed and agility over raw power. He'd wielded dual daggers with quick, darting strikes, using his smaller size as an advantage to slip inside larger opponents' guards. That Griminir had been effective in his own way, but ultimately limited by his build and approach.

That Griminir was completely gone, replaced by something entirely different.

This Griminir was massive. Not quite as large as Urgak—few beings could match the High Orc's truly impressive stature—but easily the second-most physically imposing hobgoblin in the entire settlement. His shoulders were broad enough to fill a doorway, his arms thick with bands of muscle that spoke of endless hours of brutal strength training. His chest was like a barrel, deep and powerful, and his legs looked capable of supporting a building if necessary.

The transformation went beyond mere size. There was a confidence in how he moved, a certainty in his stance that spoke of someone who'd found their true calling. He stood with feet planted firmly, weight distributed perfectly, completely comfortable with his new bulk in a way that suggested extensive practice.

And his weapon matched his new physique perfectly—a giant practice axe that had to weigh at least fifty pounds, its wooden blade broad enough to serve as a shield in a pinch, its edge carefully dulled for training but no less intimidating for it. He wielded the massive weapon with surprising ease, the muscles in his arms and shoulders flexing as he adjusted his grip.

"Amazing" Satou muttered, still processing the change. "What has Urgak been feeding him?"

"Discipline, training, and carrying all those weights pay off" Lyra replied with a slight smile. "Urgak took him on as a personal project after noticing his potential for power-based combat. Said something about how not every warrior needs to be fast and precise—sometimes you need someone who can break through enemy lines like a battering ram."

As if to demonstrate that exact point, Griminir suddenly roared—a deep, primal sound that echoed across the training ground—and launched himself forward. His massive frame moved with surprising speed, the practice axe rising high above his head before descending in a devastating overhead chop.

"HAAAH!" The shout accompanied the strike, adding power to an attack that was already carrying tremendous force.

The axe blade swept downward in a vertical arc that would have split a training dummy in half—or would have bisected a tree trunk if this had been a real weapon. The whistle of displaced air was audible even from where Satou and Lyra stood, and the sheer power behind the strike was evident in how Gob's entire body had been committed to the attack.

Kelvin didn't try to block—that would have been absolute suicide against an attack with that much mass and momentum behind it. Even a practice weapon could shatter bones if it connected with full force. Instead, he demonstrated the lessons Urgak had drilled into him about facing stronger opponents: he dropped low, his body seeming to simply fold downward, the massive axe passing through empty air inches above his head. His long hair actually lifted from the displaced air, that's how close the strike had come.

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