Pellelian's Blunder: Cry, Frail Goblins! Your Terror Has Descended – The Heart-Eater!

I shouted in true Pellelian fashion: Cry out, you weak goblins! Your fear has arrived here. It's the Heart-Eating Snake!

The goblin who yelled that flopped down on his ass with a thud. Goblins must have a passive fear of snakes or something. Well, thinking about it, a snake suddenly bursting out and devouring their comrade's heart would terrify anyone.

I'd planned to take them out cleanly if they just stayed put.

"You evil snake! Incarnation of the devil! Begone!"

The goblin spat as he pulled out his necklace.

"Foul creature, away with you!"

That stung a little. A Heart-Eating Snake has no choice but to live up to its name. Naturally, I had zero reason to fear that necklace.

When I didn't back off, the goblin swung his rusted sword. Whoa there. The blade slammed into the spot where I'd just been.

But what a pathetic swing. Compared to that elf's razor-sharp swordsmanship, it was laughably slow.

Instead, I climbed right up that rusted sword, along his wrist. Should've worn some armor, buddy.

Crunch!

Perfect. Now Bite had hit Lv10.

These goblin raiders gave decent experience, but none had magic stones.

"H-Heart... Eating... S-Snake...!"

Were you calling me? Those were the last words from the goblin with a gaping hole in his chest.

Pellelian's navigation watched me with smug satisfaction. He glanced aside and said,

—Another one's coming.

Even these ambushing goblins had camaraderie, it seemed. Rushing over at the sound of those gruesome screams.

A sword-wielding goblin burst through the underbrush. He glanced between his comrades' corpses and me, then shouted,

"Snake... Heart-Eating!"

Do they only know those words? He charged with his sword raised.

The same scenario played out.

"Urk... Gah!"

The goblin with the hole in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠his chest spewed blood and collapsed.

—Two more incoming.

Handling two at once wouldn't be easy. I prepped some earth magic. Trip one and take out the other first.

Soon, two goblins leaped out simultaneously. But this time, no immediate brawl.

"A real... Heart-Eating... Snake."

"R-Run awaaay!"

Seeing three comrades' bodies, they lost all will to fight and bolted into the bushes.

I started to chase but stopped. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Not out of mercy.

An epithet? My ears weren't ringing, so it couldn't be that.

Like Gunter the "Steel" or Pellelian the "Heaven-Defier"?

—What? Go chase it down and throw a blood festival.

I told him about the voice since he looked puzzled.

—An epithet! Hah!

He burst out laughing.

—First time seeing a monster not even two months old snag one. What is it? Heart-Eating Snake!

I was curious too. Focusing my mind brought up my status window.

Oh, there it was under my name. I'd earned the brutal moniker Heart-Eating Snake.

How'd this epithet pop up so suddenly?

—An epithet is a second name beyond your true one. And names are born from those who call you by it.

In short, the goblins calling me "Heart-Eating Snake" gave me the epithet.

That raised a question.

'So if people call me Snowball or Snakey, does that become my epithet?'

Snowball. If that stuck, my dignity would tank. Horrifying just to imagine.

Pellelian denied it.

—It takes more than a few calls. At least hundreds must name you that for it to form.

'Then how just now?'

—Probably a universal concept to those goblins. Like folklore or old tales.

Ah, so like a fairy tale bogeyman: my epithet's the "Tiger That Won't Eat You If You Give It Rice Cake."

—No idea what that is. But you must live up to it.

True, this wasn't my first heart-munch. I'd devoured hearts from mixed breeds and chimeras too.

So what about Steel or Heaven-Defier?

—I was the great mage who defied heaven's laws.

'Oh, right.'

—Epithets hold power. Stronger ones, called by more people, yield greater power.

That explained his ramble about names holding power.

I checked my new title closer.

Pellelian was spot on. Bonus effects too: sharper fangs and more XP from hearts. Both perfect for me.

Unexpected windfall. Sweet.

—One more coming.

Battle stations again. These guys were tougher than expected.

—No, wait.

I could tell it wasn't a goblin. Nanaruk burst through the bushes.

She eyed the fallen goblins and me, then exclaimed in surprise,

"Snowy!"

Snowy? Calling the Heart-Eating Snake that?

"You took them all out?"

I nodded. She beamed with admiration.

"Incredible. Cleaning up warriors like this."

Piece of cake. Her sword dripped blood too, unscathed. She'd handled a few solo.

Oh, right—her status. This hobgoblin Nanaruk was pretty strong. Not elf or Gunter level, but way above average goblin in my book.

"Arrow wound. Needs treating."

She fretted over my injury. The shaft had snapped off, tip still embedded.

"Hold still."

It's fine; potion would heal it. But she yanked the tip free. Blood spurted.

She pulled a bamboo tube from her pouch, slathering on green ointment. Miraculously, bleeding stopped.

"Temporary fix. I'll take you to the village for proper ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠care."

Sounds good. Saves potions.

—Infiltrating a goblin village. What an adventure...

Pellelian seemed thrilled too.

Nanaruk scooped me up, draping me over her shoulders like a scarf. Comfy position?

"Let's go."

One pitiful goblin dead from a headshot. No other casualties.

I arrived at their tribe with the goblins.

* * *

Goblins living in caves or primitive huts? Prejudice. Sure, some tribes do, but not Runga in Palamu Rainforest.

Three hundred years since migrating here. Their village had proper wooden buildings.

Rainproof, houses elevated 50cm on stilts. Goblin kids dashed between them, eyeing the returning warriors curiously.

"White snake."

"Nanaruk brought it?"

"It's alive!"

"Whoaaa."

Excited kids circled. Too scared to approach snakes, though.

One returning goblin had a peer among them.

"Letchi, what's that snake?"

The boy I'd saved puffed up proudly for some reason.

"Might be Ulu-Uluru-Lu."

"Ulu-Uluru-Lu?"

"Yeah, saved me. Took out Crock goblins. Ate their hearts."

"Gasp. Their hearts..."

"They called it the Heart-Eating Snake."

"Whoaaa..."

That's right, kiddo. Spread my fame.

Wonder what Ulu-Uluru-Lu means. Sounds ridiculous.

Pellelian floated around, observing eagerly.

—Wow, this tribe's advanced.

'Wasn't like this before?'

—Last I saw, primitive cave-dwellers. Glad I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠spared them.

He was fascinated. Scholarly side shows sometimes. If not for the mad scientist vibe.

"I'll treat you."

Nanaruk led me not to a hospital, but the shamans' hut.

Shamans bedecked in flashy jewelry and tattoos greeted us.

"Great Shaman."

The old lady who'd told me to ride her belly. High status, apparently.

Shamans crowned her with a headdress, hung bone necklaces. Instant menacing grandma.

"This snake..."

When shamans asked, she replied,

"Seems I've met a spirit snake."

"A spirit snake..."

"Bring healing salve and bandages. Must treat it."

Shamans' attitudes flipped. They handled me like royalty.

Why the sudden change?

They disinfected and bandaged my wound. Hut walls bore mystical murals.

One caught my eye: winged black snake amid lightning, red snake dead below. Cool bros.

Nanaruk whispered,

"That's Ulu-Uluru-Lu."

Ah, the legend. Mistaking me for the black one, though? White and black are worlds apart.

Black's cool, sure, but I prefer white. Black looks too villainous.

"But what's this ring?"

Nanaruk pointed at my ring.

Couldn't answer, so I wagged my tail.

"Honestly, kinda tacky."

Tell me about it.

Pellelian asked,

—What'd she say? About my ring?

'Said the ring looks super stylish.'

—Heh, even goblins have taste. I designed the seal myself.

Making his own signet? Total egomaniac fairy.

Nanaruk stuck by me. Then, inspiration struck. Told Pellelian; he loved it.

I tapped her hand with my tail, pointing at an item.

"Paint? Want me to fetch that?"

Sharp as ever.

Hut full of ritual tools, including primitive paints like ink.

Shamans brought board and black paint curiously.

I dipped my tail.

—Elephant-rock shape. Draw like this.

My idea? Sketch the rock near my goal to ask directions.

Pellelian's directions alone might take forever.

But asking sparked a bigger wave.

"Whoa, it's drawing!"

"Truly spirit-like, Great Shaman."

"No way... Hah!"

Shamans crowded me. Tail trembling nervously. Like watching a prodigy solve math.

I nailed the elephant rock. Nanaruk recognized it.

"Elephant Rock here!"

Yes! Dungeon hidden right below.

Magic stone vault, so Pellelian boasted ironclad security. Earthquake-proof too.

—Safe, looks like.

'Fairies might've looted it first?'

—Nah.

Why so cocky?

—Forced entry collapses the whole rock. Buries intruders with the stones.

'...'

—Kekeke, cocky trespassers get entombed.

Blissfully entered before, clueless. Chilling now.

I tapped the rock sketch.

"Wanna go there?"

Vigorous nod.

But her face darkened.

"Crock tribe's held it for a year."

What?! The ones I killed?

"Our land originally. Crock chieftain invaded, made base. Digging under rock... But heavy security; can't get close."

Shock! Goblins found the dungeon?

Not entered yet, but Pellelian raged.

—Rat bastards!

Tiny old fairy fuming.

—Go, snake! Devour every last heart!

Easier said. But I was pissed too.

'Daring to eye my magic stones!'

—I'll kill them all and stuff 'em!