Chapter 8
Chapter 8
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 7
Chapter Title: Newbie Adventurer Bern (5) - Unusual Individual
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Blanca's decision was swift.
"Let's head back for now."
Bern turned his gaze toward her.
"Why is that?"
"If they're using stolen human clothes merely as makeshift wraps, it means they've stockpiled a massive amount of clothing. And the only way wild goblins could amass human garments in such quantities is by raiding a village. Moreover, if they're crudely imitating them and even crafting and wielding weapons, it signals their group has grown far beyond what we imagined."
A goblin's intelligence was on par with a human child's.
But even children could form societies and learn things.
Of course, they couldn't sustain advanced civilizations like humans, but even a crude imitation was plenty threatening.
"This isn't something two adventurers can muddle through. We need to return to the guild, report the situation, and get the nearby lords to dispatch troops—or at least mobilize a large force of adventurers."
Blanca's words were reasonable, at least by her standards.
But Bern looked at her with puzzlement.
"Will that even work?"
"Pardon?"
"You said it yourself earlier, Blanca. Lords don't move easily even for matters in their own territories. Do you think they'll pretend to listen just because the guild starts talking about extermination squads?"
"......"
No way they would.
They had only just arrived nearby and already knew, so there was no chance the lord was oblivious.
Yet the lord had requested an adventurer guild commission instead of mobilizing his own troops.
And not for a large-scale extermination—just a request for a handful of adventurers.
In other words, he knew but lacked the capability or the will to handle it decisively.
"The Adventurer's Guild is the same. To mobilize adventurers, there needs to be commensurate pay. Who's footing that bill?"
"...Ha."
Blanca let out a hollow laugh.
It wasn't mockery toward Bern.
It was self-deprecation for overlooking something even a newbie like him had instantly realized.
"So, what do we do?"
"We'll handle it ourselves."
"Pardon?"
Blanca's face went blank for a moment before she scowled.
"Look, I get that you're strong and confident in your abilities. But we're talking about a goblin horde that could number in the hundreds. How do you plan to take them on with just a single sword?"
"We have to manage it. Eventually, I'll have to take down a lich with nothing but this sword."
"──."
This time, Blanca was truly speechless.
Not because of Bern's words, but because of the unshakeable confidence and certainty in his eyes.
"Haa."
Blanca sighed deeply.
Her reason screamed that it was insane.
Raw strength and sharp instincts didn't guarantee prowess in real combat, and since her partner was a total rookie with zero commissions under his belt, she, the veteran, needed to take the reins.
But.
When it came to absurd goals, wasn't she in the same boat?
"Fine, let's do it. Whatever."
Bern's smile deepened at Blanca's response.
And so, the war between two adventurers and the goblins began.
The first thing 'it' consciously perceived upon birth was the image of a human woman screaming in tears.
Her body was frail beyond exhaustion.
With a throat so parched that even voicing words was agony, the woman desperately cried out again and again.
'It', born with high intelligence, vaguely grasped the meaning.
The woman was cursing.
The world, her own plight, the monsters who had violated her, and 'it', born from her womb.
She loathed and cursed them all, screaming for them to die right then and there.
She cried out until, with a snap like a thread breaking, she collapsed—and never rose again.
Given how miraculously she'd clung to life in her weakened state, it was inevitable in a way.
Thus, 'it' was forever denied any voice from its mother but hatred and curses.
Its fathers confirmed the woman's death and devoured her corpse as if it were natural, but they accepted 'it', born of her, as kin and shared their food.
'It' grew little by little, but at a speed incomparable to humans.
And it realized it was different from its kin.
Its kin were utterly dim-witted.
They couldn't solve even the simplest problems that seemed trivial to 'it'.
Tasks 'it' handled effortlessly left them grunting in futile effort.
In intellect and physical prowess alike, 'it' was exceptionally superior.
Though its mother was human, the den where 'it' grew held plenty of kin born through similar ordeals.
It was the result of goblins raiding a remote slash-and-burn village that had fled the lord's exploitation.
Yet among those siblings born the same way, none matched 'it's level of ability.
'It' realized it was an aberration.
With superior strength and intellect, 'it' swiftly became the horde's leader.
Even individuals who might have been its fathers bowed before it willingly.
As if destined, 'it' began expanding the horde.
The first change was to food consumption.
Previously, each goblin foraged and devoured on the spot; now, all gathered food was stockpiled centrally and redistributed on 'it's orders.
They also shifted from gorging until stores ran dry before foraging anew to daily hunts, even with surpluses.
With stable, efficient supply and distribution, the horde's numbers—which multiplied quickly anyway—surged even faster.
Next came tool usage.
They had a culture of using scavenged clothes or gear from prey, but never crafting their own.
Skill was part of it, but more so laziness—they preferred easy paths, driven by whims.
But 'it' enforced tool use and ordered mimicry of similar items.
Inferior to human craftsmanship, crude armors from stone, wood, and hides were worlds apart from bare fists or rocks.
Finally, hunting methods.
Before, they ate whatever they found and mobbed prey en masse.
Rare ambushes or hides were more prankish malice than tactical.
Reforming this wasn't easy for 'it' either.
Food storage was its own idea; tools mimicked humans. But even brilliant 'it' couldn't invent tactics solo.
So 'it' observed humans again.
It gathered weak or lazy kin and sent them to raid a human village.
The first attempt succeeded too easily.
The village fell defenselessly; dozens of humans became slaves and emergency rations.
Unhappy at not witnessing group combat, 'it' shifted to observing captives.
It severed their Achilles tendons to prevent escape and fed them to prolong life.
Confined with nothing but eating, humans conversed fervently.
It was their sole way to preserve sanity.
Kin couldn't comprehend, but 'it' was different.
Slowly, savoring, it deciphered their speech from the chatter of dozens—perfect teaching material.
"Don't give up." "Help will come someday." "Let's plan an escape." "They have weapons—can we steal some?" "It'll be okay, kids." "Don't worry, I'll protect you." "Damn bastards. If you're feeding us meat, cook it first!" "What's with that big goblin?" "It watches us every day—creeps me out."
'It' learned they called itself and its kin 'goblins'.
And that humans viewed goblins—even itself—as laughable inferiors.
Why else would they chatter freely daily in its presence, never imagining comprehension?
Not perfectly, but sufficiently fluent, curiosity struck 'it'.
How would humans react to their 'inferiors' speaking their tongue?
'It' spoke.
"Humans, how does it feel to live in my domain?"
As expected, they were horrified.
Mouths agape, eyes bulging, bodies trembling in terror.
Most intriguing was the one who instantly knelt and bowed.
The human cried,
"F-Forgive me! Goblin Lord! I-I have never mocked you!"
At his words, faces of those who'd badmouthed goblins paled.
But 'it' fixated on the title.
Having learned human speech, it knew 'lord' meant ruler of territory.
'It' had called this 'my domain', so the human took it literally.
Lord, lord.
Rolling the word, 'it' liked it.
Yes. It was the sovereign of goblins, monarch of their lands.
'It'—no, the Goblin Lord—addressed the first to bow.
"Your words amuse me. It's a waste to consume you as food, so I'll grant you the honor of following me."
Relief dawned on the pioneer's face at the kind words.
Despair gripped the rest at 'food'.
The Goblin Lord addressed them.
"I will ask you many things from now on. Those who satisfy me become slaves. The rest become food."
Humans recoiled in shock; some in rage and defiance.
But after the Goblin Lord casually crushed three rebels' skulls with gestures, none resisted further.
Humans knew more than expected.
From hunters, efficient hunting techniques.
From tanners, freer leatherworking.
Some trembled imagining consequences of imparting knowledge, but survival trumped that.
True to word, the Goblin Lord spared them as food.
And among slave-humans, those crafting useful items got better treatment.
The Goblin Lord was satisfied.
This knowledge and new slaves would strengthen his tribe—no, his kingdom.
The Goblin Lord was dissatisfied.
Metalworking, soldier training, writing, swordsmanship, magic manipulation.
He knew they existed from human talk, but details eluded him—too many gaps.
The raided village was the smallest, weakest human outpost on the continent.
Thus, residents' knowledge and skills were limited.
What if they struck larger, richer targets?
Conquer them, enslave humans, absorb their lore.
Then it and its kind would grow greater still.
The Goblin Lord burned with fervent ambition.