My Goblin System : Levelling up with my SSS Class Devouring skill Chapter 297

Then Chief Ssk’thar dropped to one knee, bowing his head. Behind him, all two hundred and thirty-seven warriors mirrored the gesture in perfect unison.

"Lord Satou," Ssk’thar’s voice carried clearly across the courtyard—a sibilant hiss that sohow conveyed deep emotion. "The Scaled Brethren have co. As we promised. As honor demands."

Satou stepped forward, gesturing for the chief to rise. "Stand, Chief Ssk’thar. You and your people are not servants—you’re allies. Friends. Family."

Ssk’thar rose slowly, his amber eyes eting Satou’s. "When the Serpent race burned our settlent, when they slaughtered our young and drove us into the wilderness, we had nothing. No ho. No hope. No future."

His clawed hand touched his chest. "You gave us sanctuary when we had nothing to offer in return. You saved us . You offered protection when doing so brought you no advantage." His voice strengthened. "The Scaled Brethren do not forget debts. We do not forget rcy. We do not forget those who saw us as people worth saving."

He gestured to the warriors behind him. "These are our finest. Hunters who can track prey across stone. Warriors trained from hatching in the combat arts. Mages who command primal forces. Healers skilled in treating wounds that would kill others. We bring them all. We bring everything we have."

Ssk’thar’s expression hardened. "And we bring our hatred of those who tried to go against you, Lord Satou. We will teach them the cost of that mistake."

Satou felt emotion tighten his throat. This wasn’t just military alliance—this was genuine loyalty born from compassion shown when it was least expected.

"Your presence honors us," Satou said formally. "Your warriors will fight beside ours as equals. Your wisdom will guide our strategies. Your people will have a ho here for as long as you wish it."

He raised his voice so the entire courtyard could hear. "The Scaled Brethren stood with us in spirit even when distance separated us. Now they stand with us in truth. Let all know that these warriors are our brothers and sisters. Any who disrespect them disrespects ."

The settlent erupted in cheers. Orcs roared approval. Hobgoblins raised weapons in salute. Even the goblins, who’d initially feared the reptilian warriors, now shouted welco.

Ssk’thar’s expression shifted—not quite a smile, but sothing close. Lizardfolk faces didn’t express emotion the sa way mammalian species did, but Satou had learned to read the subtle signs. The slight relaxation of jaw muscles, the gentle swaying of the tail, the way the crest flattened slightly—all indicated pleasure and relief.

"We bring more than warriors," Ssk’thar continued. "We bring intelligence. While traveling here, we observed human military movents. The army they’re assembling..." He paused. "It’s massive, Lord Satou. Larger than you may expect. And they’re mobilizing faster than rumor suggests."

That got everyone’s attention.

"How much faster?" Satou asked sharply.

"Three weeks. Maybe less. The southern human kingdoms are coordinating—this isn’t just one nation’s army. It’s a coalition." Ssk’thar’s amber eyes were grave. "They’re not just trying to eliminate one settlent. They’re making a statent about what happens to monsters who grow too strong."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Three weeks instead of four. That changed everything.

"We’ll discuss details in private," Satou said. "But thank you for the warning." He gestured to Lyra. "This is Lyra, my First Wife and settlent administrator. She’ll coordinate your integration and ensure your people have everything they need."

Lyra stepped forward, bowing slightly. "Chief Ssk’thar, your warriors are welco. I’ve prepared quarters and supply allocations. If you’ll follow , we can get your people settled before detailed planning begins."

"Gratefully accepted," Ssk’thar replied. He turned to his warriors and spoke in rapid, hissing Draconic. They responded in unison—a sharp, barking sound that was apparently acknowledgnt—and began following Lyra toward the eastern district.

As the lizardfolk filed past, Satou noticed details he’d missed initially. Several carried eggs carefully wrapped in protective materials—their young, brought into potential danger because leaving them behind was apparently more dangerous. Others bore injuries, scars from conflicts that had occurred since fleeing their original ho. These weren’t just warriors—they were survivors who’d chosen to risk everything to repay a debt.

Jessica moved to his side, watching the procession. "Two hundred and thirty-seven more reasons to hope," she murmured, echoing his words from days ago.

"And three weeks instead of four," Satou replied quietly. "Which ans we push harder. Train longer. Build faster."

"We’ll manage," Jessica said with confidence he didn’t entirely feel. "We always do."

[MIDDAY - LOKI’S ARRIVAL]

The Scaled Brethren had barely finished settling in when the watch bells rang again. This ti from the western approach.

"More arrivals!" the lookout shouted. "Large force approaching—carrying Lord Loki’s banner!"

Satou was in the training grounds overseeing integration drills when the call ca. He imdiately headed for the western gate, gathering his command staff as he went.

"Loki’s reinforcents," Kelvin said excitedly. "Two hundred elite warriors from one of the most powerful demon lords. This is going to be interesting."

"Interesting is one word for it," Urgak rumbled. "Potentially problematic is another. Loki’s forces are sophisticated, trained in formal military doctrine. They might not respect our... rougher approach."

"Then they’ll learn to," Satou said flatly. "This is our settlent. They’re here to help, not take over."

The western gates opened to reveal a sight that contrasted sharply with the lizardfolk’s arrival.

Where the Scaled Brethren had moved in practical military formation, Loki’s forces entered with almost theatrical precision. Two hundred warriors marched in perfect lockstep—not a single footfall out of sync, not a single weapon at an improper angle. They wore matching armor in Loki’s colors—deep purples and shifting greens that seed to change depending on viewing angle. Each warrior carried identical weapons: short swords paired with round shields, with backup daggers at their belts.

But what made them distinctive wasn’t the uniformity—it was the sheer variety of species. Demons of every description marched together: towering figures with obsidian skin, lithe beings that moved like living shadows, creatures with too many eyes or limbs that shouldn’t physically work but did. Yet despite this diversity, they moved as one unified force.