Capital of Vel'Thalas, Kingdom of Thal'Zaroth — Arkael'Tor, The Great Forest
The roots whispered as he walked.
Massive trees bowed subtly in his presence. Vines twitched with reverence. From the shadows, the eyes of countless monsters watched in silence as their sovereign passed through the central district of Vel'Thalas, the capital carved from the living heart of Arkael'Tor.
At the forest's deepest point, surrounded by trees the size of towers and soil humming with ancient power, a new kingdom had risen — not from stone, but from the earth itself.
It was not a city of steel and mortar. It was one of roots, vines, glowing moss, and pulsing life. Tree-homes spiraled high with bridges of bark. Fungal lanterns lit the paths. Streams of pure water ran through the streets, guided by elemental wards.
And at its center, grown from the very altar where he had first awakened his Core, stood the Throne of Thorns — a colossal seat entwined in golden bark, engraved with beast sigils, pulsing with the green-blue light of power.
Loid stood before it, not seated.
He was never one for thrones.
He preferred to walk among his people.
"Your Excellency," came the voice behind him, calm and clear, but edged with natural authority.
Mia, the dragon in human form, descended the root-steps with a scroll in hand. Her silver hair shimmered like firelight, and her golden eyes glowed with timeless wisdom. Though her humanoid body was young in appearance, her aura betrayed centuries of experience.
She moved like a steward, but every monster in the kingdom knew — Mia could level mountains if Loid willed it.
She handed him the scroll. "The forge-roots are stable. The ogre laborers completed the lower tunnels, and the goblin architects request more sapstone to finish the southern district walls."
Loid nodded, reading the script carved into bark-thread paper. "Assign the trolls to break down the old growth to the southeast. We'll regrow faster with direct nutrient routing from the deep roots."
Mia tilted her head, amused. "You speak like the forest itself now."
"I'm learning to listen," Loid replied simply. "It speaks to those who respect it."
⸻
His voice was soft, but every monster who passed bowed low. Goblins carrying crates of luminous stone. Lizardmen guards polishing bone-forged spears. Even a wyvern gliding overhead let out a respectful screech before circling back toward the Spire Roost.
Vel'Thalas was alive — not only in its form but in its people.
His people.
They called their kingdom Thal'Zaroth, a name crafted by the elder shaman tribes.
"Thal" — meaning deep-rooted in ancient monster tongue
"Zaroth" — meaning unity beneath one blood
It was the first time in recorded history that monsters of different races — goblins, orcs, ogres, lizardfolk, wyverns, dryads, and more — lived not just side-by-side but as one nation.
A nation bound by loyalty to a single figure.
Loid.
Their Excellency. The Forest King. The Marked One. Sovereign of Thal'Zaroth.
⸻
"Any movement from the outside world?" Loid asked, handing the scroll back.
Mia gave a small nod, her tone tightening. "The Elven seers in Elandor stirred yesterday. Their stars shifted. They know something has changed in Arkael'Tor."
"And the Empire?"
"Not yet," she said. "But they will."
Loid's hand clenched. The wind around them stilled briefly, reacting to his mood.
He relaxed and turned away from the throne. "Let them watch. I'll show them that this forest is not their hunting ground anymore."
⸻
As he walked toward the Council Grove — an open circle of polished root pillars used for high meetings — Loid was greeted by his war chiefs, the leaders of the monster clans who had sworn fealty after his Core awakened.
Each knelt as he approached, murmuring "Your Excellency" before rising.
Mia moved behind him without needing to be told, scroll now replaced with a longleaf quill and a bark ledger.
Loid took his place at the center.
⸻
Council of Clans
1. Gorthak the Bloodfist – Orc Chief of the Ironfang Clan
• Broad, scarred, and draped in chains taken from fallen empire soldiers.
• Specialty: Close-combat strategy and heavy infantry
• Voice like stone cracking under weight. "Our warriors grow impatient. They wish to taste war again."
2. Zalzik Sharpgrin – Goblin Master Engineer
• Hunched, with goggles strapped to his head and a bundle of tools clanging from his belt.
• Specialty: Traps, architecture, explosive defense
• "Your Excellency, if you give me more sap-powder and a few dead skittersnakes, I'll build you gates that'll kill anything with a pulse."
3. Asha of the Blackflow – Lizardkin Huntmistress
• Sleek, calm, and always watching. A silent predator in humanoid form.
• Specialty: Stealth squads, jungle ambush tactics, and beast communication
• She offered only a bow of her head, speaking rarely but deadly in precision.
4. Brugha Stonehide – Ogre Builder and Siege Captain
• Towering, covered in moss-like fur, and with a peaceful demeanor belying his strength.
• Specialty: Construction, heavy siege weaponry, tunnel warfare
• "City strong now. Can make stronger. Need Dwarf metal. Dwarfs good with fire metal."
Loid's eyes lit at the reminder. "Which brings us to our next matter."
He stepped forward.
⸻
"We need armor," he said, loud enough for all to hear. "And weapons — real ones. We've mastered wood, stone, and bone. But if we are to stand against the Empire, we'll need steel."
Heads nodded. Even the orcs, proud of their axes, agreed with grunts.
Loid continued, "We have strength. We have unity. But steel is what wins wars. And for that, we need dwarves."
There was silence.
Then Zalzik muttered, "Dwarves hate us."
Mia didn't look up from her scroll. "So did the ogres. So did the wyverns. They follow now."
Loid smiled faintly. "We don't need them to kneel. We need them to forge. And gold is louder than blood."
⸻
A map was unfurled across the mosswood table.
Loid pointed to a mountainous region northeast — Dur-Khazun, the great forge-city of the dwarves.
An isolated stronghold known for its craftsmanship and disdain for all things monstrous.
"That's where we go next," he said.
Gorthak grinned. "They'll never accept a monster alliance."
"I won't offer them one," Loid replied. "I'll offer them a contract. And protection. If they refuse… well."
He didn't finish the sentence.
He didn't need to.
The forest rustled in approval.
⸻
That night, as the Council disbanded, Loid walked alone atop the living walls of Vel'Thalas. Moss stretched beneath his feet. Glow-shrooms lit the path. Mia remained just behind, silent for once.
"Do you think the dwarves will listen?" he asked her.
She paused. "They are stubborn. But pragmatic. If they see value in you, they'll bite."
"And if they see a threat?"
Mia smiled faintly. "Then you show them what bit looks like."
⸻
Loid looked out over the city — his city. He could hear laughter in the streets. Blacksmiths hammering bone into armor. Ogres stacking stone. Goblins bartering for fish with river trolls.
What once was a land of death and wilderness… was now a kingdom.
A home.
⸻
"I was born in fire," Loid thought. "Raised in ash. But from that, I will grow something no empire can destroy."
And when the time came, the forest would not march alone.
It would roar.