“Let’s get back to being useful,” I said, my voice echoing off the damp walls. I pointed once more at the Level 2 goblin. “You. What do you eat around here?”
“Fleshrooms and... and small animals,” he answered in a frantic rush. It seemed my demonstration of violence had made a lasting impression. He wasn't just answering; he was desperate to please.
“And do you ever leave these caves? Do you go past that abandoned settlement at the entrance?”
Morkish stepped forward before the younger goblin could speak. “I can answer that better than they can, my King,” the Shaman intervened, bowing low. “We almost never venture beyond the tunnels. Outside, we are nothing but prey. The humans hunt us for sport.”
“The same type of humans I fought before?” I asked, thinking of the heavy armor and sharp steel that had nearly ended me.
Morkish nodded solemnly.
That gave me pause. I didn't want to build a town inside a cave with only one exit, that was just a glorified tomb. If I couldn't control the access points, an enemy could simply smoke us out. I needed to figure out exactly what the System considered a "town," but that was a problem for tomorrow.
“Alright, listen up,” I commanded, standing tall. “Here is the plan. We are moving out of these caves, but to do that, we must become stronger. We will no longer be scavengers. From today, I am appointing 'Small Bosses' to lead you.”
The mood in the cave shifted instantly. The word "Boss" acted like a spark in a dry forest. Their eyes lit up with that primitive greed for status I’d noticed earlier.
“You,” I pointed again at the Level 2 goblin. “What is your name?”
He just shrugged, looking at me with a blank expression. Damn it. I realized then that nobody in this tribe had a name except for the Shaman and the last King. I was going to have to get used to naming every single one of them.
“Fine. You will be my first Captain of Warriors. For that, you have earned a name.” I thought back to the countless games I’d played, and a smirk played on my lips. “Your name is Trashmob.”
I chuckled to myself. It was a terrible name, but for a Level 2 goblin in a cave full of idiots, it felt oddly appropriate.
“I am assigning you three warriors,” I commanded, looking directly at Trashmob. “I want you to head out and gather as many fleshrooms as possible.”
Trashmob let out a soft, guttural grunt. “That is runt’s work, King.”
I leaned in, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “What did you just say?”
He flinched, his big ears pinning back against his skull. “Nothing! Nothing, my King...”
I turned my gaze toward Morkish. “What is the typical duty of a warrior?”
“They roam the tunnels looking for animals to hunt,” the Shaman explained.
“So, they are hunters,” I summarized. “And the runts... they are the ones sent out for the mushrooms?”
Morkish nodded.
“And normally,” I continued, trying to keep the frustration out of my voice, “how many runts do we send out, and how many actually return with food?”
Morkish tilted his head, thinking hard. “Mmm... I do not know. We send all the runts. Some come back. I never cared to count.”
I mentally facepalmed. It was a logistical nightmare. These idiots were sending their best fighters out to be picked off by humans while sending their literal children out alone to forage for food. No wonder the tribe was starving.
“We are changing this suicidal dynamic immediately,” I announced. “I am establishing new rules.” I looked at Morkish, who nodded in approval, eager to see what the 'Chosen One' would decree.
“First rule: We protect the runts. No one, and I mean no one, is allowed to kill a runt. If you kill a runt, your punishment is death. Is that clear?”
I let my gaze linger on every goblin in the cave, holding Trashmob’s eyes a second longer than the others.
“To ensure this, I am creating a new title: The Runtmaster. This goblin will be in charge of the young ones. He will be responsible for their safety and their training.”
The cave buzzed with sudden excitement. To them, a new title was simply another way to "be boss," and they were practically drooling at the prospect.
“For this role, I am selecting Brick,” I said, pointing toward the goblin in question. I chose him because he was the only other one who already had a name, and since it was as generic as the rest, I didn't see the point in changing it.
“Who is Brick?” Trashmob asked, looking around.
I pointed directly at the goblin I had chosen. “He is.”
The tribe all nodded in unison, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world now that I had said it.
“Brick, you will select two warriors to serve under the Runtmaster,” I commanded. “You are to take the young ones out and teach them exactly how to find these fleshrooms.” He nodded vigorously, clearly taking his new title to heart.
“Trashmob,” I said, turning back to my new captain.
“Yes, my King?”
“Your squad will be named Alpha Squad. As their captain, you are personally responsible for them. Your mission is to hunt animals, but you are to do it as a unit. No one hunts alone.”
He nodded, though the concept of "teamwork" still seemed a bit alien to him.
“I want you all back here together,” I added sternly. “I will not lose warriors for nothing. If you encounter something too strong, do not engage. Retreat and report it to me. Also, if any of you level up, I want you to assign one attribute point to Intelligence and one to Strength.”
I honestly didn't know if increasing their Intelligence stats would actually make them smarter or just give them a larger mana pool, but it was better than leaving them as complete idiots.
With Alpha Squad taking four goblins and the Runtmaster team taking three, I had five adults left to assign. Four, if I excluded Morkish.
“Morkish, what exactly is your daily routine around here?” I asked, genuinely curious.
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“I am the voice of our God,” he said, puffing out his chest with pride. “With His knowledge, I brew potions to make our warriors stronger.”
“And where do you get the ingredients for these potions?”
“I venture out to find them. They grow in the darker corners of these caves.”
“Then, after this meeting, you’re coming with me,” I said firmly. Morkish nodded. I had a mountain of questions for him, and getting him away from the tribe was the best way to get honest answers without an audience.
“As for the rest of you, we are creating a new position: The Guardian. You there,” I said, pointing to a goblin who looked particularly sturdy. “I assume you don’t have a name?”
The goblin shook his head. He was as plain as the others, which made him a blank slate.
“Then your name is your title. You are Guardian. I’m assigning the remaining three goblins and a few runts to you. Your job is to improve this settlement.”
He looked at me with a blank, confused stare.
“I want you to build huts,” I explained, gesturing toward the cave walls. “Like the one Morkish has, but bigger. I also want you to gather stones. Make these walls higher and stronger.”
A slow smile spread across his face as he realized he had permission to "boss" the others around. He nodded enthusiastically.
“Then go. Form your teams and remember, I expect results.”
The cave instantly erupted into motion. Trashmob began hand-picking the goblins I assumed were his friends, while Guardian and Brick stood there for a moment, staring at the remaining crowd in confusion as they tried to figure out how to actually "lead."
I stepped into the fray, manually shoving a few lingering goblins toward their new "bosses" to end the confusion.
Brick gathered the runts and handed three over to Guardian, who immediately led them off to begin the back-breaking work of hauling rocks and clearing debris. I ignored Brick as he stood atop a small boulder, attempting to deliver a grand, rambling speech to the remaining runts about his new authority.
I turned my attention to Trashmob and Alpha Squad. They were rummaging through the "armory"—a pathetic pile of rusted, notched blades and rotted clubs. They were the same kind of garbage Goper had offered me when I first woke up in this nightmare.
Each member of Alpha Squad gripped a weapon, their knuckles white, and looked at me for approval. I simply nodded, the annoyance clear on my face, and watched as they began to scramble up the cave walls to find the exit and begin their hunt.
I stood in silence next to Morkish. A single runt stood beside the Shaman, trembling so hard his teeth were practically chattering.
“And this one?” I asked, gesturing to the small creature.
“My assistant,” Morkish replied plainly.
Whether it was a legitimate apprenticeship or just Morkish wanting someone to carry his bags, I didn't care enough to complain.
“Well, Morkish, why don’t we head out? Show me where you usually find your potion ingredients.”
“With pleasure, my liege.”
We walked toward the wall and began the climb in silence. As we moved toward one of the darker corners of the upper cavern, I looked back over my shoulder. I could hear the echoes of my servants moving below,the scraping of rocks, the shrill cries of runts, and the clatter of rusted metal.
I had a sinking feeling in my gut. I had just sent my only assets into the unknown, and I had no idea how many of them would still be alive by the time I returned.
We entered a side tunnel in silence. Morkish walked a few paces ahead of me, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips. He gave me the distinct impression that he was just waiting for me to speak, enjoying the anticipation. I still had a mountain of questions, and he was my best source for answers, but I decided to take a moment to check my status first.
I knew it was a bit obsessive, but old habits die hard. Even back on Earth, I was the type of player who checked his stat menu every five minutes, even if nothing had changed.
I pulled up the interface in my mind.
- Name: Unknown
- Race: Goblin
- Level: 4
- Strength: 4 (+1)
- Dexterity: 3 (+2)
- Constitution: 5 (+1)
- Intelligence: 1
- Wisdom: 1
- Charisma: 1
I had gained two levels from the recent chaos. The system had automatically funneled two points into Constitution, and I had four free points to distribute. I chose to split them between Strength and Dexterity, with one more point into Constitution. I hadn’t fully tested the limits of these attributes yet, but my instincts told me that Constitution was the key to my health and durability. In this hellhole, staying alive was my absolute priority.
I moved to the skill list, even though I already knew the icons by heart:
- [Nature Holding (E)]
- [Neural Archive (E)]
A wry, sideways smile touched my face when I looked at the mark for [Nature Holding] on my forearm. Instead of some ancient, mystical rune, it was a tiny, stylized picture of Varkas giving a thumbs-up. I rolled my eyes at the God's sense of humor, but I was genuinely relieved to have a safety net for emergencies.
I refocused on Morkish, who was currently peering at a strange, glowing plant growing from a crack in the tunnel wall.
“Morkish…” I sighed, breaking the silence.
“Yes, my King?” He turned toward me, his expression pleasant and attentive.
“I’ve realized that you are considerably smarter than the rest of the tribe,” I began.
“I appreciate the compliment.” He performed a small, practiced bow, a gesture of mock-humility that felt surprisingly sophisticated for a goblin.
“Then I think you already know why I asked you to come with me alone, don’t you?”
He raised a gnarled hand to his chin, looking thoughtful. “Either you intended to kill me in the dark where there are no witnesses, or you have questions. I am sincerely hoping it is the latter.”
I blinked, surprised by his bluntness. “Of course it’s for questions. Why would you think I’d want to kill you?”
“Well,” he said, tilting his head. “You saw how my intervention during the challenge gave you a significant advantage against the Old King. “
“Advantage?” I asked, playing dumb for a second.
He nodded. “Of course. If not for my words, the rest of the tribe would have jumped in to help the Old King the moment you gained the upper hand. Your fight would have been much more complicated, and likely much shorter.”
“Then I should be praising you and showing my gratitude, not looking for a way to get rid of you,” I replied, keeping my voice neutral.
Morkish shrugged, his eyes glinting with a sharp, unnerving light. “A leader as cautious as you might find such influence... threatening. Power that can give a throne can just as easily take it away.”
“That makes sense.” I let the silence stretch for a few beats, purely for dramatic effect, before continuing. “But for now, you are my most valuable asset in this tribe. I don't discard useful tools.”
Morkish stood there, a bright, wide smile spreading across his wrinkled face. He looked as if being described as an "asset" was the greatest compliment he had ever received. It was a strange reminder of how different his mind was from a human's.
“Tell me,” I said, changing the subject. “Do you even know what your God actually wants from me?”
He shook his head slowly. “Not exactly, my King. I only know that you are the spark. You will be the one to bring great, sweeping changes to this world.”
I chuckled, though there was no humor in it. “Varkas has far too much confidence in me.”
“Of course he does. You are his Chosen,” Morkish replied, his voice thick with conviction.
I dismissed the thought of being a "Chosen" hero, or villain, and kept walking, this time taking the lead. “I’m not sure if I’ll be able to accomplish everything he hopes for, but I’m going to try. To do that, I’m going to need your help.”
“Whatever you require, my King,” he said, scurrying after me to keep pace.
“First, I need information. How is it that you are Level 5 while the rest of the tribe is so low-level?”
“That is simple, my King. Goblins in this nest don’t usually live very long. Once they reach Level 2 or 3, they become cocky and arrogant. they venture too far out of the caves, and the humans are always waiting to hunt them down.”
It was the classic "mid-game" trap, getting enough power to feel strong, but not enough to actually survive.
“And then the humans ever enter the caves?” I asked.
“Occasionally. They know that if they don't 'clean' our nests, sooner or later, the numbers will grow. A lone goblin is easy to kill, but a massive horde... well, they don’t want to take that risk. They prefer to cull us while we are weak.”
That triggered a massive red flag in my mind. “How do you know all this, Morkish? How could you possibly know what humans think?”
“I observe them,” he said simply. “And I am smart enough not to be caught.”
“So, you can analyze human motives, yet you never bothered to check where the runts actually come from?”
He shrugged, completely unbothered. “A fair point. I suppose I never cared enough about the runts to investigate.”
He stopped abruptly, leaning down to pluck a small, unremarkable plant from the cave floor. He carefully tucked it into a small leather pouch tied to his waist. It was a bit chilling to realize how intelligent he was compared to the others. He was the only one with possessions, the only one with foresight. He could have easily taken me out and claimed the throne himself if he wanted to.
“There’s one thing I don’t understand about you, Morkish,” I continued, watching him closely. “Everyone in this tribe is obsessed with 'being the boss.' Why aren't you?”
“Because,” he said, and for the first time, his voice was filled with genuine, terrifying reverence. “I only wish to follow the will of the God. And now, I know His will is for me to follow you.”
I was about to press him further when a sharp, scraping sound echoed from the darkness ahead of us.