I approach the venom-rat's cage cautiously, feeling the same strange tingling in my fingertips that I experienced with Nerk. The tribe falls silent, watching with tense anticipation as I reach toward the creature's sickly yellow-green aura.

  But something's wrong. Instead of the connection forming, I feel a sharp resistance—like trying to push two magnets together at their matching poles. The power that flows so naturally between Nerk and me refuses to extend to this new creature.

  "Fuck," I mutter, pulling my hand back as the venom-rat snaps at my fingers through the cage bars.

  I try again, concentrating harder, reaching for that strange energy within me, but the result is the same. The rat hisses viciously, completely unaffected by my attempts.

  "Tamer fail!" Gruk announces, slamming his staff against the cave floor. "Not real tamer! True tamers control many beasts!"

  Nerk looks confused, his enhanced yellow eyes darting between me and the tribal elder. "But master changed Nerk! Master has power!"

  "Weak power," Gruk spits. "Useless power. One goblin only? Pathetic!"

  The atmosphere in the cave shifts instantly. What had been curiosity and cautious hope transforms into hostility and disappointment. Several goblins grab crude weapons—bone knives, sharpened sticks, small axes made from scavenged metal.

  "Maybe eat human instead," suggests a particularly ugly goblin with a notched ear. "Good meat for strength!"

  "Wait," I protest, backing toward the cave entrance. "I'm still figuring this out—"

  "Trick tribe!" Gruk shouts, pointing his gnarled staff at me. "Bring Death Knights to our door! Spy!"

  Nerk jumps between me and the advancing goblins, his newly enhanced frame tense and ready. "Master not trick! Master just new! Leave master alone!"

  "Nerk traitor!" someone shouts, and a stone flies through the air, striking Nerk on the shoulder.

  "Run, master!" Nerk hisses, shoving me toward the cave entrance. "Tribe angry, very dangerous when angry!"

  We bolt for the exit, ducking under the vine curtain as spears and rocks clatter against the stone around us. Outside, the forest has grown completely dark, illuminated only by strange bioluminescent fungi and distant stars that form unfamiliar constellations.

  "This way!" Nerk urges, grabbing my arm and pulling me down a barely visible path that winds away from the cave, deeper into the forest. "Nerk know hidden place!"

  Behind us, angry goblin voices spill from the cave. Several pursue us, their yellow eyes gleaming in the darkness, but Nerk's enhanced speed and stealth give us an advantage. We duck under fallen logs, splash through shallow streams, and squeeze between rock formations.

  "Faster, master!" Nerk pants as we run. The distant howl of wolf-demons echoes through the trees, adding urgency to our flight.

  After what feels like hours of frantic movement, we finally slow our pace. The sounds of pursuit have faded, replaced by the eerie chorus of night creatures in this alien forest. Exhausted, I lean against a tree trunk, its blue-purple bark cool against my back.

  "Think we lost them," I gasp, trying to catch my breath.

  Nerk nods, his enhanced senses scanning our surroundings. "Tribe not follow this far. Too near Sparkroot territory." He points ahead to where strange, crystalline formations jut from the ground, catching moonlight and refracting it in unnatural patterns.

  "What's a Sparkroot?" I ask, still panting.

  "Tree spirits. Not always dangerous, but..." He shrugs his skinny shoulders. "Unpredictable. Better than tribe right now."

  "Got that right," I mutter, sliding down to sit at the base of the tree. "What the hell happened back there? Why couldn't I tame that rat?"

  Nerk squats beside me, his yellow eyes thoughtful. "Old stories say tamers start slow-slow. One beast, then more as grow stronger. Maybe master new tamer, need practice?"

  I nod, wiping sweat from my forehead. "Maybe. This is all completely fucking insane, you know that, right? Yesterday I was just a normal guy back home, and now..." I gesture vaguely at the alien forest around us.

  "Need shelter for night," Nerk says, apparently unconcerned with my existential crisis. "Nerk know small cave nearby. Not tribe cave. Hidden cave." He stands and offers his clawed hand. "Come, master. Not safe in open when moons rise."

  I glance up through the canopy and notice for the first time that this world has not one, but three moons—one large and pearly white, the others smaller and tinted pale blue and amber. They're climbing higher in the sky, casting multiple, overlapping shadows on the forest floor.

  "Right," I say, taking his hand and pulling myself up. "Lead the way."

  The next few days blur together in a haze of hunger, exhaustion, and constant vigilance. Nerk's little cave becomes our base—a cramped hollow beneath twisted roots at the edge of the Sparkroot territory. It stinks of damp earth and rotting vegetation, but it keeps us hidden.

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  "Eat, master," Nerk insists, offering me a handful of purple berries he's foraged. "Give strength."

  The berries taste like a fucked-up mix of blueberry and garlic, but they don't kill me, which is good enough. Water comes from a small spring nearby, its slightly metallic taste something I'm slowly getting used to.

  Each night, I practice enhancing Nerk further, pushing more of whatever strange energy flows through me into our connection. The changes are subtle but significant—his night vision extends, his reflexes sharpen, his scrawny frame develops wiry muscles that belie his small stature.

  "Feel claws sharper," he says one evening, examining his hands with pride. "Could gut wolf-demon now, if sneaky enough."

  Our first real test comes on the third day. We're collecting mushrooms at the forest's edge when the distinctive howl of wolf-demons cuts through the air, much too close for comfort.

  "Down!" Nerk hisses, pulling me behind a fallen log.

  Two massive creatures lope into view, wolfish in general shape but wrong in every detail. Their fur is patchy and gray-green, exposing leathery skin beneath. Six red eyes line each side of their elongated faces, and their jaws split three ways when they open. They're tracking something, noses to the ground, moving with predatory purpose.

  "Not seen us yet," Nerk whispers, his enhanced senses tracking their every movement. "Wind good."

  I hold my breath as they pass, close enough that I can smell their rancid, chemical odor, like ammonia and rotting meat. One pauses, lifting its monstrous head to sniff the air, and for a terrible moment its multiple eyes seem to lock onto our hiding spot.

  Nerk moves with blinding speed, grabbing a stone and hurling it far to our left. It crashes through underbrush, and both creatures immediately bolt toward the sound, giving us precious seconds to retreat in the opposite direction.

  "Fuck, that was close," I gasp when we're safely back in our cave.

  "Master's power makes Nerk quick," he says, a hint of pride in his croaky voice. "Save both."

  On the fifth day, disaster nearly strikes. We're forced to venture closer to the goblin cave territory when our food supplies run low. Nerk insists he knows where to find a cache of edible roots that even his tribe rarely touches.

  "Good roots. Strong magic," he explains as we dig in the soft earth beneath a twisted tree. "Make master's power grow maybe."

  We're so focused on harvesting the tuberous growths that we don't notice the hunting party until it's almost too late. Six goblins, led by the one with the notched ear, emerge from the trees with crude spears raised.

  "Found traitor and fake tamer!" Notched-Ear shouts triumphantly.

  "Run!" I yell, but we're quickly surrounded.

  Nerk snarls, his enhanced form suddenly seeming much more dangerous as he crouches protectively in front of me. The other goblins hesitate, clearly surprised by how much he's changed.

  "Nerk stronger now," Notched-Ear says, uncertain. "How?"

  "Master's power grows," Nerk replies, baring sharpened teeth. "You leave or Nerk show how strong."

  To reinforce the effect, I pour energy into Nerk, focusing on speed and strength. His muscles visibly tense, quivering with barely contained power.

  When the first goblin lunges, Nerk moves like lightning. He doesn't just dodge, he counterattacks with vicious efficiency, slashing with enhanced claws that leave the attacker howling and clutching a bloody arm.

  "Next lose throat," Nerk warns, falling back to my side.

  The display is enough to give the hunting party pause. They confer among themselves in harsh whispers, casting fearful glances our way.

  "Go now," Notched-Ear finally spits. "But Gruk say you not welcome. Ever. Next time, more goblins come. Many more."

  We back away slowly, Nerk maintaining his threatening posture until we're safely out of sight. Then we run, the precious roots clutched tightly in my hands, our hearts pounding in unison.

  That night, as we huddle in our miserable little cave, I notice something strange happening with Nerk. The connection between us pulses with unusual intensity, and his yellow eyes seem to glow brighter in the darkness. His body occasionally twitches, like he's fighting off invisible insects.

  "You okay?" I ask, watching him scratch furiously at his arms.

  "Feel... strange," he admits, voice strained. "Itchy inside. Like skin too small for Nerk now." He looks at his clawed hands with confusion. "Master's power changing Nerk more. Feel it growing."

  I focus on our connection, that strange green aura that links us, and I can sense what he means. It's like the energy I've been pouring into him has reached some kind of threshold, accumulated to a breaking point. There's resistance there, like pressure building against a dam.

  "I think you're ready to transform," I say, not entirely sure how I know this. "Evolve into something stronger."

  Nerk's eyes widen. "Like Old Stories? When goblin become hobgoblin?" He shivers, but not from fear, from excitement. "Nerk ready! Make stronger for master!"

  Following pure instinct, I place my hand on his bony shoulder and concentrate, deliberately pushing more energy through our bond. But instead of the gradual enhancement I've been doing, I visualize breaking through that resistance, shattering whatever barrier is holding back his transformation.

  The effect is immediate and dramatic. Nerk gasps, his back arching as green energy visibly crackles across his skin. He falls to all fours, his body convulsing as bones crack and muscles tear and reform. The sounds are fucking horrible—wet, snapping noises that make my stomach turn—but I don't stop. Something tells me interrupting now would be disastrous.

  "Keep going," I urge, maintaining the flow of energy despite my growing exhaustion. "You can do this."

  Nerk's skin splits along his back, but instead of blood, a bright green light spills out. His frame stretches, grows taller, broader. His face elongates, jaw extending and teeth lengthening into proper fangs. The transformation lasts maybe five minutes, but it feels like hours—a grotesque, painful-looking metamorphosis that has me wondering if I've made a terrible mistake.

  Then, suddenly, it stops. The creature before me stands slowly, now nearly five feet tall, almost human height. His skin has darkened to a deep forest green, mottled with patches of armored scales. Muscles ripple beneath the surface, and his yellow eyes have gained vertical pupils like a cat's. Sharp horns curl from his temples, and his ears have grown even longer, more expressive.

  "Holy shit," I breathe, staring at what used to be Nerk.

  He examines his new form with wonder, flexing clawed hands that could now easily tear through flesh and bone. When he finally speaks, his voice is deeper, less croaky, though still distinctly his own.

  "Nerk... changed," he says, sounding awed. "Strong now. Very strong." He drops to one knee before me, bowing his horned head. "Master did this. Nerk serve forever."

  The connection between us feels different now, clearer, more stable. I can sense his new abilities: significantly enhanced strength, tougher skin that's almost like natural armor, improved senses, and something else... a kind of natural leadership aura that wasn't there before.

  "You're not just a goblin anymore," I say. "You're..."

  "Hobgoblin," he finishes, standing tall. "Leader. Warrior." His new fangs gleam as he grins. "Now tribe see true power."