The Headless Red Snakes
"Fetch some cold water."
The grand shaman's voice carried the weight of her advanced age. "Bring more bamboo leaves."
At her command, the other shamans bowed reverently and obeyed. For goblins, anyone over fifty could drop dead at any moment without it being unusual. Deep wrinkles etched her face, carved by the passage of time. The tattoos inked across her body and face—the mark of a grand shaman—had faded to a hazy blur over the years. Yet her voice still held power, and her movements retained precision.
The grand shaman had stayed up all night assisting Nanaruk. Evolution was both a blessing and a curse bestowed upon monsters. It extended their lifespan and made them stronger. But not everyone was granted it, and having already evolved, the grand shaman knew her own inescapable death loomed near.
Still, she felt no fear or futility. Not with that one before her—the future of the entire tribe.
She soaked a cloth in cold water and gently wiped Nanaruk's arm. The young chieftain had endured the agonizing evolution. The moisture on her skin evaporated in an instant. The boiling heat still raged, but things were improving. Last night, every wipe had peeled away skin like shed scales. But now? Her skin resembled that of a slightly flushed human woman—soft yet tough like rubber. Under the sunlight, it sparkled as if dusted with gold powder.
Nanaruk had always been slender and tall, but now she was even more so—tall enough to rival an elf. Her hair had grown overnight, long enough to cascade freely.
The other goblins will look like children standing next to her.
But that was a good thing. Nanaruk would become the tribe's king. And a tribal king needed an aura of undeniable majesty.
"……Grand Shaman."
Nanaruk opened her eyes. Her long lashes fluttered.
"You're awake."
"How long was I…… Ah."
She tried to sit up but wobbled and lay back down.
"Rest a bit more. Your body isn't fully recovered yet."
"No. If I'm not there……"
"Rest. I'll handle the trifles. And from now on, drop the honorifics with me."
"What? How could I?"
Even when Nanaruk had worn diapers, the grand shaman had been her grandmother—and the grand shaman.
"You're no longer just the chieftain, Nanaruk."
"Then……?"
"You're the grand chieftain. Or, the king."
"King……?"
Nanaruk gave a wry smile. She didn't fluster or wave her hands in embarrassment.
"So it's come to that."
Hobgoblin King. She had evolved to the stage beyond hobgoblin. And she understood the duties that came with her superior form.
"You'll get used to it."
"Where's Ululululu?"
"Still in the dungeon."
Nanaruk nodded. The grand shaman rose.
"The young ones will come to tend to you soon. Rest."
She bowed politely and left.
The grand shaman's wrinkled face was hard to read. But her mind swirled with the name of that snake.
Ululululu.
That snake saved Runga.
Crock had been a tyrannical king, unfit for the role. Yet the sacred snake had slain that false ruler. Now, all of Runga's goblins believed in the snake god.
And here's the astonishing truth no one dared imagine.
Where did that snake even come from?
The grand shaman herself didn't truly believe it was a god. She never had. Even when it vanished and returned, even though she herself had wept and acknowledged it as Ululululu.
It was undoubtedly an extraordinary monster. But it wasn't the Ululululu of legend—black, mountain-coiling, thunder-wielding true deity.
How could that little snake be Ululululu?
The tribe's strongest goblin became chieftain; the wisest, grand shaman. She was wise. That's why she'd endorsed the snake as Ululululu to unite the fearful tribe.
It had worked.
Lost in thought, the grand shaman turned. The tribesfolk were in uproar—loud enough to reach her aging ears. It came from where the warriors gathered.
Approaching, she drew a sharp breath.
Kadiram, the king's younger brother, had brought someone. A fine warrior himself, his face was rigid with tension.
He'd brought a fairy. But the grand shaman's insight recognized it wasn't ordinary—a shadow elf.
The shadow elf scratched his head. "This doesn't look like the dungeon entrance."
It was just the warriors' rest area. He placed a hand on Kadiram's shoulder.
"……There are other goblins besides you to ask."
"Ululululu is in the dungeon. We can't let you in."
"What's this Ululululu?"
Warriors grabbed weapons and closed in. But the shadow elf showed no pressure.
"You don't know? The sacred snake god."
"Snake god? Some tribal superstition, huh."
"He truly exists!"
Kadiram had become a brave warrior. The grand shaman gritted her teeth and signaled silently. Warriors raised weapons and nocked arrows at her gesture.
"Not interested, so take me to the dungeon……"
"Intruder! Ignore me—shoot!"
Kadiram had brought the elf here, resolved to die. But despite his cry, the warriors hesitated to loose arrows, fearing they'd hit him. They approached with weapons instead.
The shadow elf sneered. "So brave. But pointless courage is worthless."
At that instant, crimson blood erupted from Kadiram's chest. Not just blood—it writhed like living snakes, piercing his body.
Hobgoblin warriors' eyes bulged as they charged. "Raaah!" "Bastard!"
One dragged the fallen Kadiram away; the rest swung at the shadow elf.
"What a hassle."
A peculiar crescent blade emerged from the elf's coat sleeve. He parried their strikes with the small weapon.
Clang!
Whether due to arcane craft or magic, warriors' weapons snapped where the blade passed.
The shadow elf didn't finish the disarmed himself. He simply flung his arms wide. Darkness from his sleeves yawned like a monster's maw. From it burst over a dozen crimson, headless red snakes made of blood.
Unlike the kind white snake, these mercilessly impaled the warriors.
Splat splat splat!
Some swung broken blades to fend them off, but the snakes slithered over, burrowing into chests.
"Gaaah!" "Aaaagh!" "Kuaaagh!"
Agonized screams rose in horrific chorus. The grand shaman shouted, "Loose arrows! Fall back and engage!"
They did. Twang!
Arrows from every angle. Even elite warriors like Nanaruk could deflect one or two at best. But the shadow elf blocked ten effortlessly—his blood snakes intercepting each.
"Annoying. I'll keep killing until you guide me to the dungeon."
He could. These were goblins who'd triumphed over the Crock tribe. Too precious to waste like this.
The grand shaman had to decide: take this murderer to Ululululu?
She would have. "What the hell—!"
Nanaruk burst in, unarmored, axe in hand. The grand shaman's legs nearly buckled. Worst-case scenario. Nanaruk wouldn't forgive this slayer of her warriors.
And she didn't. "Raaargh!"
Her roar made every goblin's fur bristle and hearts pound. A king's roar. A king's rage.
She hurled her axe—not arcing, but straight. It tore air viciously. Whiiish!
The wind-whipping momentum was terrifying. Nanaruk's evolution was complete. Even Crock paled in comparison.
The shadow elf tensed for the first time. Blood snakes from his sleeves blocked the axe. Crack!
One crushed. Another, another. Eleven of twelve snakes shattered.
The axe lost momentum and halted. Clang.
Ah. Even Nanaruk's full-power throw was stopped. The crushed snakes reformed.
Despair settled. "Intriguing. A new king right after Crock's death?"
He stroked his chin, impressed. "Much better, too. Decided."
The shadow elf declared, "Good. I'll capture you. I'll raise you well."
"Shadow elf."
Nanaruk smiled whitely, undaunted. A smile of fury. "Let's see if your head-split corpse can say that."
She charged, axe raised. But cold sweat trickled from her temple. Her body unrecovered.
The grand shaman prayed for Nanaruk's safety and squeezed her eyes shut.
Keurgh, what a sleep! A real deep one. And a good dream, too. A buffet dream.
I was still a snake in the dream, but I got to eat human-made dishes for once. Piling a plate with sweet, cool yukhoe—then it hit me. Isn't yukhoe what I eat every day?
That's when I woke. Regret. Should've had the pumpkin porridge and kimbap too.
FYI, my buffet faves: yukhoe, pumpkin porridge, kimbap, tteok. Got scolded every time for hogging the last three—you're not allowed at buffets—but whatever.
-Awake?
Pellelian's voice snapped me alert. -Heh heh, finally. How's it feel?
How's it…… Gasp!
This evolution hadn't enlarged me. No extra horns either. Checking my body, relief washed over.
Thank goodness! Still white!
-Worried about color? Not the point.
Oh!
Color unchanged, but the sheen was different. Fitting the "Crystal" moniker, my scales had transformed.
Snake scales are modified skin—epidermis hardened. Reptiles mostly so. Snake scales too.
Shape and toughness vary by breed, but barring special ones, not that hard. Anyone who's touched knows: smooth, softly pliant.
Harder!
These weren't snake scales. Each firm, sleek, jewel-like. Up close, more translucent than white—scattering light iridescently. True crystal.
-Like carp scales!
Not dragon scales?
-Not comparable. Pellelian's a total T.
Looks sturdy.
I stroked myself with my tail. Whoa, softer than expected?
Touch improved too? I slapped the floor. Clang!
What? Metallic ring on impact. Soft to touch, hard on force. Dream material. Modern firms would drool.
Pride shivered me. Ching ching. Scales rattled threateningly. Nice. No rattlesnake, but unique sound now.
I checked status.
【Epithet】 Heart-Eater Serpent
【Traits】 [Unbreakable Will], [Diligence], [Horns], [Pattern], [Scales]
【Skills】 [Borrowing Horn lv4]: Thunder Command lv0, [Leaping Horn lv1], [Predator Leap lv1]……
Heh heh. Magic stone mukbang paid off. Mana pool ballooned—triple previous, churning inside.
Gunter's Thunder Command usable now. Killer skill I'd never fired.
And best: new evolution skill. Scale-related.
Insane. Name alone thrills. Test it?
-Time to transmit.
Pellelian serious. Previous dungeon had self-transmit device. This too. He itched to activate—learn his body's fate.
Sure, let's.
Tense, he explained controls. Elves detect signal; we'd bolt.
-Go!
-Transmitting.
Machinery hummed. Central disc; rice-grain metal bits danced mystically.
-South…… east…… Not north?
Pellelian decoded, face darkening.
-Across kingdom…… mountains.
Muttered, then silence.
-……Dead.
Sigh. What?
-Signal heads to Delphram dungeon. I'm dead. Probably.
I'm dead. Probably. Existential opener.
I'd console him—
Boom!
Distant explosion. Goblin screams. We froze.
Big-ears already!
-How'd they track so fast?!
Mistook for Golden Leaf investigators. Run.
-Grab everything!
Swept magic stones to subspace. Prized first; extras swallowed. Hurried out door.
Poor goblins surely sacrificing to elves. Long hall. Iron door. Past Crock's corpse. Over goblin bodies. Up tunnel.
Finally, sunlight. Blood stench hit.
Half-right. An elf: one ashen-skinned shadow elf, gripping Nanaruk's throat.
He eyed me. "Ho, a snake indeed."
Nanaruk bled from mouth, dead to my eyes.
Ah. Rage is black. My heart blackened. Scales followed.
Tss tss.This is how. Intuitive first use. New evolution skill.
Black Scale lv1
Hold up—turning black snake.