The next few weeks see us skirting the fringes of civilization, deliberately avoiding main roads and larger settlements. Instead, we weave through dense forests and rocky hills, making camp each night in defensible locations before moving on at dawn. It's a nomadic existence, but one that serves our purpose well.

  One important thing I learned is that tamers aren’t exactly rare, though most of them can tame one or two monsters at most and generally the smarter the monster, the harder they are to tame. Which makes me taming Morrigan something of an anomaly.

  "Training going well," Nerk reports one evening, returning from overseeing the goblin warriors. We've established a crude training ground in a forest clearing, safely hidden behind a ridge from any potential travelers. "Archers improving. Hit targets at fifty paces now."

  The transformation of our goblin forces is impressive. Under my power's influence, channeled through Nerk, they're evolving faster than normal goblins ever could. Their bodies grow wiry with muscle, their reflexes sharpen, and their natural stealth abilities enhance. I've directed Nerk to focus their training on ranged combat and scouting—playing to their natural strengths rather than trying to make them into frontline fighters.

  Morrigan, meanwhile, ranges far and wide in her search for information. With her ability to disguise herself as an old woman, she visits isolated farms and tiny hamlets, gathering rumors of potential jobs and threats.

  "Trouble brewing north," she reports, returning from one such expedition. She settles by our campfire, her feathers ruffling in the evening chill. "Merchant caravans being hit. Guards killed, goods taken." She clicks her beak thoughtfully. "Not normal bandits. Survivors speak of beasts. Large, hulking creatures."

  "Worth investigating?" I ask, already thinking about potential recruitment opportunities.

  "Merchant guild in Hillbrook offering bounty," she confirms. "Five gold pieces per bandit head. Plus salvage rights to any recovered goods."

  Nerk grins, showing pointed teeth. "Good hunting. Good pay. Maybe good recruits if beasts intelligent."

  Griznak, who has integrated seamlessly into our force as Nerk's lieutenant, nods eagerly. "Goblins ready for real fight. Training only do so much."

  I consider our options. We've been focused on training and integration, but actual combat would accelerate our growth. My third bond slot feels tantalizingly close to opening—perhaps a proper battle would push it over the threshold.

  "We'll check it out," I decide. "But carefully. I want to understand what we're dealing with before committing."

  The next day, we dispatch three of our best scouts—goblins who've shown particular aptitude for stealth—to reconnoiter the northern trade road. They return two days later with valuable intelligence.

  "Ogres," one reports excitedly. "Three big ones. Leading twenty humans in ambushes."

  "Ogres using human bandits?" Nerk seems surprised. "Unusual. Ogres not usually that smart."

  "Not in charge," the scout clarifies. "Ogres take orders from human. Big human in black armor. Has sword that glows blue."

  Morrigan hisses, her feathers standing on end. "Death Knight. One of those we saw at ravine." She turns to me, her eyes gleaming. "Dangerous, but opportunity. Ogres make excellent third bond—strong melee fighters. Perfect complement to goblin archers."

  I nod slowly. This could be exactly what we need—a chance to eliminate a threat, earn gold to fund our operations, and potentially recruit powerful melee creatures for my third bond.

  "How do they operate?" I ask the scout.

  "Have camp in old ruins. Send ogres and bandits to ambush caravans. Very organized. Not like normal bandits." He gestures with his clawed hands. "Use ogres to smash caravan guards, humans loot, then retreat to ruins before reinforcements arrive."

  "The Death Knight?"

  "Stays back. Watches. Sometimes gives orders." The scout shivers. "Feels wrong. Cold when he near."

  I consider our forces. We have nearly fifty goblins now, all enhanced and improving daily. Nerk has grown even more formidable through our continued bond, able to take on multiple human fighters with ease. Morrigan's magical abilities have expanded as well, particularly her skills with illusions and destructive spells.

  "We need to separate the ogres from the Death Knight," I decide. "Take on each threat individually. If we can eliminate the bandits and capture the ogres, we might have our perfect third bond."

  "And the Death Knight?" Nerk asks.

  "We'll deal with him if necessary, but I'd prefer to avoid direct confrontation for now." I've seen enough to know these undead warriors are dangerous opponents. "Our priority is the ogres."

  Over the next two days, we develop our plan. Using the scouts' information, we identify the bandits' likely next target—a merchant caravan scheduled to travel the northern road in three days, reportedly carrying valuable textiles and spices.

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  "We'll set up our own ambush," I explain, drawing our positions in the dirt. "Goblins in trees with bows. Nerk and I will engage the ogres directly once they're separated from the main force. Morrigan provides magical support and keeps the Death Knight occupied if he appears."

  The night before the operation, I sense something changing in my connection to the monster network. The power flowing between myself, Nerk, Morrigan, and our goblin forces feels differently balanced, as if preparing for expansion. My third bond slot is very close to opening—I can feel it like a door about to unlock.

  "Time approaches," Morrigan observes, noticing my concentrated expression. "Tomorrow's battle may be catalyst needed. Kill enough enemies, absorb enough essence..."

  "Let's hope so," I reply, checking my crude weapons one last time. "Because having a melee powerhouse would really complete our current lineup."

  Dawn breaks crisp and clear as we move into position along the northern road. The trade route cuts through a narrow valley here, with dense forest on both sides—perfect terrain for our strategy. Goblins climb silently into trees, arrows nocked and ready. Nerk and I conceal ourselves behind a large boulder near where we expect the ambush to occur. Morrigan perches on a high branch, her dark feathers blending perfectly with the shadows.

  We don't wait long. First comes the caravan—four wagons escorted by a dozen guards who look more bored than alert. Then, right on schedule, the ambush begins. Three massive ogres burst from the opposite treeline, roaring as they charge the guards. They're impressive specimens—nearly ten feet tall with bulging muscles and crude but effective clubs.

  Behind them come the human bandits, yelling and brandishing weapons. The caravan guards rally briefly but are quickly overwhelmed by the ogres' brute strength.

  I wait until the chaos is at its peak, then give the signal. Fifty goblin arrows rain down simultaneously, targeting the human bandits with devastating precision. The enhanced goblins' accuracy is remarkable—nearly every arrow finds its mark. Human bandits fall screaming, completely unprepared for this second ambush.

  The ogres pause in confusion, suddenly finding their human allies cut down around them. Nerk and I use this moment to charge from our hiding place, focusing on isolating the largest ogre—clearly the leader of the three.

  The battle that follows is brutal and chaotic. The merchant guards, seeing unexpected help, rally again. The remaining bandits try to flee but are cut down by goblin arrows. The ogres roar in rage and confusion, swinging their massive clubs at anything that moves.

  I focus on the ogre leader, dodging its powerful but slow attacks while Nerk harries it from behind. Morrigan's spells disrupt the other two ogres, causing one to attack thin air as it battles illusory opponents.

  For a moment, I worry about the Death Knight mentioned by our scouts, but he doesn't appear. Either he's biding his time or wasn't accompanying this particular raid.

  The tide turns quickly in our favor. With most of the bandits down and the caravan guards focusing on the smallest ogre, Nerk and I press our advantage against the leader. A well-placed strike from Nerk hamstrings the massive creature, bringing it crashing to its knees.

  "Now, master!" Nerk shouts.

  I leap forward, placing my hand on the ogre's head, reaching for that connection I've felt with Nerk and Morrigan. The ogre's aura is a turbulent red-brown, powerful but unrefined. As I establish contact, I feel resistance—then something unexpected happens.

  My third bond slot snaps open with an almost audible click in my mind. Power surges through me, the accumulated essence from dozens of defeated bandits and our growing goblin network finally pushing past the threshold. But instead of forming a bond with this ogre, the power seeks a different outlet.

  "Something's wrong," I mutter, struggling to control the flow of energy. "It's not connecting properly."

  Morrigan lands beside me, her eyes widening as she observes what's happening. "Too simple," she hisses. "Ogre mind too simple for third bond. Need something more compatible."

  The ogre roars, trying to break free from Nerk's grip. I maintain contact, trying to redirect the power, but it's like trying to fit a square peg in a round hole. This creature isn't right for my third bond, despite its impressive physical capabilities.

  "We need to take it prisoner," I decide, reluctantly breaking the attempted connection. "Study it. Figure out why it's not compatible."

  Nerk nods, then delivers a calculated blow to the ogre's head, rendering it unconscious but alive. The other two ogres are already down—one dead from the combined attacks of the caravan guards, the other severely wounded and restrained with ropes.

  As the dust settles, I find myself in an unexpected position: my third slot is open and ready, but my intended candidate has proven unsuitable. Meanwhile, we've successfully defended a merchant caravan, eliminated a bandit threat, and captured two live ogres for study.

  "Caravan leader approaches," Nerk warns, stepping protectively closer to me.

  A middle-aged man in expensive but practical clothing walks toward us, his expression a mix of gratitude and wariness. Behind him, his guards secure the wagons and tend to their wounded.

  "I don't know who you are," he calls, stopping at a respectful distance, "but you saved my cargo and probably our lives. The Merchants' Guild will want to reward you properly."

  "We'll collect the bounty on the bandits," I reply, gesturing to the scattered bodies. "And we're taking these ogres for our own purposes."

  The merchant doesn't argue—he's in no position to. "As you wish. Will you escort us to Hillbrook? There might be more bandits, and our guard is... diminished."

  I consider the request. Entering a larger settlement is risky with our unusual company, but we need to collect our reward, and the merchant's gratitude could provide useful connections.

  "We'll escort you," I decide. "But we'll maintain our distance. Our scouts will ensure your path is clear."

  As we organize the caravan's continued journey, I examine the unconscious ogres with frustration. My third bond slot is open, practically humming with potential energy, but I still haven't found the right creature to fill it.

  "Patience," Morrigan advises, sensing my disappointment. "Better to wait for right beast than waste bond on wrong one."

  She's right, of course. The third slot represents a critical expansion of our capabilities, it needs to be something that complements our existing forces perfectly. Something specialized for melee combat but with enough intelligence to integrate properly into our growing army.

  "We'll keep looking," I tell her, watching as our goblins efficiently strip the dead bandits of useful equipment. "The right creature is out there somewhere."

  For now, we've established ourselves as a legitimate mercenary force, eliminated a threat, earned gold to fund our operations, and most importantly, opened that crucial third slot. My monster army is taking shape, one step at a time.