The Goblin Who Refused a Master

"Thanks for the offer, but I'll pass, keruk."

"Yeah, alright... huh?"

I'd started to respond naturally, but the words died in my throat. Pass? He wasn't going to accept? His unexpected reply caught me off guard, leaving me momentarily speechless. Wait, I was offering to teach him the sword, and he was turning it down? Back in the day, swordsmen had lined up from across the continent just for a scrap of my guidance.

I knew the value of my teachings well. Not out of narcissism—just objectively speaking. From my vantage point, a few words of advice could elevate this goblin's realm a notch or two. For a goblin, stumbling upon my dungeon was fortune enough, but this would be on par with that.

I crossed my arms and asked, "Hey, I'm way more impressive than you think, you know? Do you have any idea how hard it is to learn even one move from me? This isn't an opportunity that comes easy."

"...That might be true. Maybe I'm being a stubborn fool. But ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠even so, I have no intention of seeking teachings from another, keruk."

The goblin's response was firm, his tone laced with resolve.

"Why?"

Puzzled, I pressed him, and he carefully lifted a single book from the pile. The cover was frayed from countless readings, emblazoned with Flash Sword.

"Because I regard the author of this sword manual as my master in my heart. It was thanks to this book that a mere goblin like me could become a swordsman. With a master already, I can't accept guidance from anyone else, keruk."

...Hm.

His unforeseen reason drew an awkward smile from me.

"Did the author himself acknowledge that?"

"I've never met him in person, so of course not. Even if I did, a goblin like me wouldn't be accepted as a disciple. But my resolve to see him as my master remains unchanged, keruk."

So, he saw me as his master—and that's exactly why he wouldn't learn from me directly. The irony nearly made me laugh, but I held it back. Plenty of people had claimed discipleship uninvited, but a goblin? That was new.

Not that I had any intention of truly accepting him. The issue wasn't his race; it was purely a matter of realm and aptitude.

"I'm not saying you have to take me as your master. Just learn a few moves casually. Masters don't teach everything from one to ten anyway, right?"

"But..."

"I've raised one disciple before, so I know. Just craft some custom swordsmanship, drill it into them, and give 'em a good beating—they grow on their own. And swordsmanship is something you learn from the world, not just a master."

I kept explaining. A master's role is to lay the foundation; the bricks on top come from clashing with the world and stacking them yourself. He'd already built his base with Flash Sword, so he didn't need to beg exclusively from a master.

Under my persuasion, the goblin soon nodded.

"...I see, keruk. So I don't need to take teachings so seriously..."

"Exactly. Good thinking."

I shrugged. For a moment, I considered revealing, Actually, I made Flash Sword! But I let it slide. Proving it would be easy—just demonstrate the later forms and secret techniques. No, I just figured this guy didn't need a master anymore. He was already walking his own path as a swordsman.

"The realms of swordsmen who cultivate aura are broadly divided into three."

I held up three fingers at shoulder height.

User, Expert, Master. In the East, they call it first-rate, peak, transcendent realm, or whatever. But on this continent, that's how it's divided.

"And within User, there are three sub-stages."

I continued explaining, folding my fingers one by one.

"Stage 1: Sensing aura and accumulating it in the body."

One.

"Stage 2: Forming meridians in the limbs for aura flow, reinforcing the body."

Two.

"Stage 3: Forming meridians throughout the body, allowing aura to be sent anywhere."

Three.

I shook my lightly clenched fist. In the East, they call it third-rate, second-rate, first-rate. More elegantly: One Flower, Two Flowers, Three Flowers. That's what I usually call them. These names connect to later realms too—unify your refined essence, energy, and spirit to reach Three Flowers Crown the Summit, and you're a Sword Expert. A state where thought and aura issuance happen simultaneously—

"Why the fancy terms, keruk? It's different from what I knew."

Well, it's Eastern nomenclature. When I created Flash Sword at just 13, I knew nothing of the East. The manual probably just said Stage 1, 2, 3 plainly.

"Too complicated. I prefer simple, keruk."

But calling them Stage 1, 2, 3 was boring... and not cool at all...

I pouted and changed the subject.

"You're at Two Flowers right now. You haven't fully formed your meridians yet, right?"

"...Not far off, keruk. Within half a year."

For reference, I was still at One Flower. My aura reserves were too low to form meridians. I'd barely managed it in my sword-wielding right arm. Still, after killing that gunman and leveling up nicely, if I dumped everything into magic power after ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠this quest, maybe I'd make it.

Anyway.

I moved on to the next realm: Sword/Aura Expert. Where thought and aura issuance sync, achieving body-sword unity to wield sword aura. Thought speed becomes aura speed, eliminating gaps in all aura-dependent actions like body reinforcement or technique execution. A complete swordsman, acknowledged as a powerhouse anywhere on the continent. In the East, a peak master.

"That's your goal."

I pointed at the goblin. He crossed his arms, pondering, then asked:

"And after that, keruk?"

"The Master realm. You don't need details yet. Just know it exists."

"...Can't I hear a preview?"

His eyes gleamed cautiously, so I chuckled and rapped his bald scalp.

"You can't look to the heavens before you can even walk properly."

"Not even a hint, keruk?"

His persistent gaze drew a wry smile from me.

"It's the realm reached by transcending yourself. That's enough for now."

"...No idea what that means, keruk."

"If you ever aim to become a true king... you'll learn naturally. No need to rush."

Yes, someday. If this goblin sought to transcend his race and become a lord. For now, it was a distant future too vague to even hypothesize.

"By the way, didn't you say you took a commission?"

The goblin asked mid-practice of the customized Flash Sword: Revised. It was a topic from our chats while I taught.

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Then won't the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠commission fail if you don't kill me? Seems like trouble."

"Nah, it's fine. Mine was just a scouting job—no requirement to hunt you down."

Failure wasn't a big deal. Worst case, no quest reward. Who cares? I'd lose a bit of cred with Garen, some time, money, and exp. Worth it.

The goblin pondered briefly. Before I could stop him, he brought his sword to his own ear and sliced it clean off.

- Drip, drip...

Ignoring the blood trickling down, he calmly offered the severed ear.

"...Take this, keruk. Humans seem to have a habit of cutting off goblin ears as proof after a hunt. Submit it, say I fled, and you're good."

Stunned, I accepted the goblin's ear.

Never saw that coming.

...Damn, you learn something new every day. I'd seen all sorts in my long life, but a goblin handing over his own ear? First time.

I stowed it in my inventory.

"I'll take it, but... your ear okay?"

"No issue. There's potion in the cave. It'll heal right up."

Potions don't regrow ears, though. From what I knew, restoring lost body parts had only two methods. First: high priest healing. But holy power was poison to a demon-aligned goblin. Second: elixir. As rare as stars— even past me struggled to obtain a few. Maybe two or three in the Empire's vault, for imperial emergencies. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Impossible for a mere goblin.

Either way, unfeasible. He'd live with one ear forever.

...Or not? That's for humans. Magical beasts might differ. Their bodies incorporate pure mana. Trolls regenerate without elixirs. Top-grade potion might suffice.

- Drip.

The bleeding stopped. He'd cauterized with aura. Temporary, but enough till potion.

Applying the potion to the stump, the wound began closing.

"..."

Regrettably, no new ear sprouted. I'd tell him to try a top-grade one later if he got it.

A bit later.

After passing on the customized Flash Sword: Revised, Residual Shadow Sword usage, technique gaps, and aura tips, I faced the goblin at the cave mouth.

His prayer stance had advanced since we met. He'd grasped a clue to the next realm.

Time to part.

"Where you headed?"

He answered promptly, as if decided.

"To Raman, keruk."

...Raman.

The familiar name stirred vivid memories, un faded despite decades.

Raman. A kingdom vanished without trace decades ago. Now a demon realm teeming with beasts, shunned by humans. Perfect for training—rare human encounters, frequent battles.

But...

I gave the promising junior swordsman one warning.

"Don't venture beyond the outskirts till you reach Expert. Even then, stay out of the core."

"Why?"

"Not fit for living beings. Even a Master wouldn't last long. Value your life—steer clear."

"Got it, keruk."

He nodded readily.

"You seem to know Raman well. Been there before, keruk?"

"Once, long ago."

Not a fond memory.

I patted his smooth head and bid farewell.

"Go on, then. If fate wills it, we'll meet again."

"Thanks to you too, keruk. As much as the creator of Flash Sword."

He bowed low, tiny frame bent.

Suppressing a chuckle, I headed to the city. Glancing back, he was still bowed.

What a peculiar guy.

A goblin unlike any other.

Shaking off the thought, I returned to town and hit logout.

First session's end.

"..."

Eyes open: capsule ceiling.

No aura. Spirit Particle Organ exists only in my Asteria Online avatar.

My broken body weighed heavy.

I'm done for, seriously.

Sighing, I sat up—

—Cough, cough!

Back hunched, coughs erupted. I covered my mouth just in time.

Uncovering: blood on my palm.

...Pushed too hard.

I gave up rising, lay back. Fatigue crushed my eyelids.

Rest first.

Leaning into the capsule, consciousness sank deep.

. . .