Once the adrenaline had truly faded, the stabbing pain in my stomach asserted itself in full force, the once chittering laughter twisting into low groans of pain forced between clenched teeth. The wound had already clotted with the syrup-thick blood, but all that did was ensure I wouldn’t be bleeding out anytime soon; it had no bearing on the damage that had already been done. Each breath aggravated the torn muscles in my diaphragm and the taste of bile remained omnipresent in my mouth and throat, but my eyes never once lost their satisfaction, nor my face its grin.

I could feel those torn muscles slowly begin to mend and heal as I rested, my [Goblin Constitution] skill asserting itself to the fore to steadily alleviate my discomfort. Were I proficient in mana manipulation as a goblin, I could even aid in the recovery, but a casual attempt earned me only the subtle signs of a potential headache for even daring to do so. For now, I could only trust in this small body of mine to do what it did best.

This would probably take a while.

Although I’d taken quite some damage from this altercation, the boar itself had clearly received the worst of it. Its corpse lay in front of me like a grandiose trophy of my achievements, the tusks that had threatened my life forced into stillness while the blood-matted hair shimmered in the sunlight that filtered through the canopy above. One of my hands remained ever-present on my wound while the other grasped at those tusks, marveling at the sharpness with bared skin and eager eyes. The beast had been valiant and bold, every bit deserving the honor of being my first opponent since my return to this world, and it was thanks to its sacrifice that I was able to grasp some of the goblins’ features with greater clarity.

Rest easy, little creature, for you died for a good cause.

While waiting for the pain and nausea to subside, I took the opportunity to give my skills a glance, idly curious as to whether I’d managed to unlock anything new from this.

C0 Goblin C1 Goblin Strength Goblin Constitution   Overflow Natural Weapons

Although the lack of my previous overflow skills momentarily caught me off-guard, I understood the reason soon enough: the data from the little pocket world I’d been housed in wasn’t connected directly to the live server, and so it was only natural that I’d have lost access to them. The loss wasn’t particularly heavy, either, as such skills had literally been grabbed just by playing around now and again with this body; if I truly wanted them, it would only take a few days at most to snatch up the basics, if not even just a few hours.

[Natural Weapons] itself was a fairly useful skill to emphasize, but I hesitated to unslot either of my racial traits from the tree to clear space for it. Although I wouldn’t be losing too much from removing such basic attributes, it also meant they wouldn’t progress, and the more advanced racial traits had a tendency to be rather powerful.

Another issue to consider was that although I had splendidly made use of my tipped fingers to deal with the problem this time, it seemed rather unlikely that I would be doing so in the near future. I had experienced those tusks first-hand, had felt how sturdy and sharp they were, and even in the boar’s death they still menaced those who chanced to look at it. Between mine and the boar’s, there was little question as to whose weapons were strongest, and it wasn’t as though the beast was in any position to object if I were to claim some of that power for myself.

Once it no longer felt as though someone were trying to tug out my entrails, I pulled my body gingerly from the ground with only a slight wince along the way. If I had a human avatar as before, it would likely take considerably longer to be able to stand as I did now, but even as I began to slowly walk around the immediate area I could all but feel my flesh begin to knit together and renew itself. The clotted blood had scabbed over the hole and afforded my hand its full attention elsewhere, and I busied myself looking for one of the large stones I had threatened the boar with mere moments ago.

It didn’t take long to follow the path of trampled foliage back to where the two of us had met, and it took even less time after that to find the boulder I was looking for: the stone was well-rounded above with a flattened base that allowed it to remain upright amidst the dirt, its size comparable to that of my goblin head. Were I to have picked it up and thrown it with all my might, it was almost certain that it might have crippled or ended the boar’s life right then and there, and as my fingers curled around and felt its rigidity and weight more distinctly, what few doubts there were in my mind fled completely. This stone practically begged to be thrown and used as a weapon, all but whispered and pleaded to be tossed or dropped from the treetops onto an unsuspecting prey below. Yet I had other plans for now, and even as my eyes saw its potential as a potent weapon, they also saw its more immediate use as a tool.

My feet traced the very same path I had been dragged along earlier, both arms clutching the rock to my chest as I returned to my prize. There’d been some small, minor concerns that perhaps some of the wolves or vermin might have tried to thieve a meal of their own, but the corpse was just as intact as I had left it. I cast my shadow over its stained body and raised my tool high, the silence broken only by my chittering before a loud crack resounded throughout the forest, the stone landing solidly on its skull and snout. The underlying structure began to shift as cracks audibly appeared in the beast’s body, but it was not yet enough for me to claim my prize. Another strike, then another, and with the third movement I was finally able to reach down and tear the tusk free.

Although the ivory was cracked at the base from those repeated strikes, the rest of its curvature had been left perfectly intact and solid. Another bout of chittering began to escape as I gazed upon its splendor, my mind already awhirl with what I could potentially do with this, with what I could make from something like this.

Without any pockets or even clothing, I was forced to stash my newest weapon in my mouth before dragging the now-deformed boar back towards the goblin den. I felt no kinship towards those goblins and there was certainly no need to help them in any fashion, but such a hard-earned kill deserved a fitting meal and I’d be justifiably damned if I tried to roast it out in the middle of the forest. None of the forest’s occupants had seen fit to reveal themselves, but that was hardly enough to believe they’d stay that way; all it took was a moment of carelessness, and I’d probably end up with my meal swiped and my own body growing cold.

Before I’d even managed to reach the den proper, a few of the foraging goblins nearby had taken notice of my stealthless trek and began to call out in excitement. Mushrooms and plant life were rather common for meals, but they were hardly particularly appetizing on their own; for creatures so young and underdeveloped as they were right now, this might even be the first time they’d had an opportunity to even see meat, much less partake of it. A chorus of high-pitched cheers echoed from every side, and I even managed to catch a few soil-covered hands reaching out for the boar before I unhesitantly swatted them away.

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“Not yet, you damn bastards!” I yelled out after spitting the tusk into my hand, waving the saliva-slickened weapon menacingly at those who dared try to steal some of my meal. The goblins who had been caught red-handed initially recoiled at my threat, yet soon I had to defend it once again as yet more swarmed in heedless of my reservations. A low, guttural growl rose from my throat, my teeth visibly bared before I took the initiative and stabbed through the back of one of the palms, the would-be-thief releasing a shriek of pain as I made good on my earlier threat.

Where my words had failed before, violence more than made up the difference. Although a few goblins began to aggressively chatter at me, they still kept their distance with their eyes warily affixed on the ivory in my hand. Hunger was overcome through self-preservation, and now that I’d managed to get their attention, I gave another low, threatening growl, my free hand tugging possessively upon the beast. “Don’t ruin an opportunity like this! Cook it! Cook it!”

Despite my efforts, however, the goblins only responded to the anger in my voice and took to applying their own. The once-cheerful cries from before were twisted into a harsh cacophony of rage and disbelief, and my pointed ears twitched in discomfort from the raw volume they were managing to put out. The braver members of the gathering began to approach once more, though this time they were drawing closer to me as opposed to the boar itself, their eyes filled with determination to retrieve their meal and dispatch the lone obstacle preventing them from doing so.

Another swipe of my weapon was enough to deter the most of them, but it was all too obvious that the situation was deteriorating far beyond what I could handle right now. I had plenty of confidence in my abilities, but that was only in a one on one situation for the time being; picking a fight with the entire den was just asking to be overwhelmed through swarm tactics, no matter how much more competent I may be compared to the individuals. Small inklings of anxiety—the thoughts of losing what I’d worked for—began to creep up on me, and there was an embarrassingly noticeable trill of nervousness to my voice as I tried to deter them once more, “It tastes better when you cook it! If we roast it, it will taste ten— no, twenty times better!”

Once again my words managed to put some distance between me and an untimely end, though it was clear from the goblins’ gazes that they didn’t quite believe the story I was selling them. Just the appearance of the meat alone was enough for their mouth to water with instinctive anticipation, their stomachs rumbling with a desire they had yet to solidify; was it truly possible to make it better?

“Useless twits, I’ll show you then!” I growled out at the assortment of nonbelievers, the gazes of those hopeful few shoring up my confidence in my success. My hand swept out in a grandiose gesture before landing on the boar, my teeth fully exposed with a grin so large my cheeks strained to contain it. “Make a fire for me and you can see the food of your dreams!”

There was a faint tremor of excitement at that, and even those who weren’t quite sold on the idea were beginning to warm up to it, even if only slightly. The promises I was making were rather large, but I had been the one to take down such a beast in the first place; if nothing else, they would be forced to admit to my capability. Those too-eager hands began to retreat, their eyes searing-hot as they watched me, waiting for me to make good on my promise, and I was all too prepared to do exactly that until I heard something I was not prepared for:

“. . . Fire?”

One of the goblins I’d converted to the path of roasted pork raised a problem I’d never considered until now. I’d brought this meal all the way here for the sole purpose of having it cooked so I could eat it with a bit of luxury tossed in. I’d filled my head with the thoughts of meat seasoned to perfection just like I was used to from the chefs of the old Aurora, and I’d even been a bit eager to give making it a try, myself. Yet this….

This….

Were these goblins seriously so useless? That they couldn’t even roast their meat? That they couldn’t even make something so simple as a fire?

I looked around the den for some signs of light, some sign of fire that would prove me wrong, yet all I found was a few collections of fungus and the remains of a half-eaten bird that had probably strayed too close. There was nothing here, no fire, not even the hint of something burned that might point to the possibility that maybe it had just run out of fuel without proper care. These goblins legitimately did not have anything to speak of, and to make matters worse, it seemed as though they had no idea what fire even was, to say nothing of how to create it.

The question had left me so stunned that my broad grin turned slack-jawed while my eyes blinked in rapid succession. The idea alone was bad enough, but that it had been proven true was even worse. Anger began to burn in my heart, my stomach churning with disappointment at potentially being robbed of its meal. It hadn’t been important to me at first, but after fighting the damned thing and dragging it all the way here, I definitely deserved more than a tusk for my effort. With the goblins around me being so utterly useless, it was only natural that it fell upon me to help educate them, to lift them up from their destitute ways and show them the true meaning of comfortable dining.

I clicked my tongue and regained my composure, my brows arching so sharply downward in frustration that I literally could not see anything more than blurred figures in front of me. “Nnngh! If that’s how it is, I—”

And then I paused.

I’d grown up in the city since birth. The closest I had ever come to the outdoors life had been through Aurora itself, and I had generally always had some form of tinderbox or magic close by. Outdoor survival was seen as a useless hobby that was hardly ever—if ever—focused on, with only the occasional cast-off skill thrown in here or there. Furthermore, chefs would often offer well-prepared dishes in exchange for the raw ingredients for themselves; unless somebody was going out of their way to cook, few players ever even so much as looked at a kitchen. I had been like most and found little use for cooking, and for all the paths I had walked, none of them involved cutlery. This presented me with a very… unfortunate concern:

How, exactly, does one make a fire?

“—. . . will give this to you.” I nearly choked on the words the moment I spoke them, my small body giving a light tremor of rage at what amounted to an unwilling confession. The goblins themselves were clearly expecting something different, something more impressive than this, but soon some adventurous souls actually made a grab for the trophy we’d been fighting over for so long. When those undeserving fingertips dug into the meat in all of the improper ways—when it was made clear that I wouldn’t stop them—yet more descended upon it like a violent torrent. It took mere seconds for my hard work to be reduced to scraps, the once noble creature’s body torn to shreds in the blink of an eye before the goblins began to fight amongst each other for the tastier morsels.

The very idea of the potential it once had caused my stomach to twist into knots, and I turned away to spare myself from further discontentment. My good mood had soured beyond repair, the ivory tusk I held in my hand no longer nearly as satisfying as it had once been. I had considered scraping away at it to give it a more efficient shape and purpose while leisurely eating my food, but those plans had all been cleared away for lack of the most important piece. Instead, I moved to an unoccupied edge of the den—which was easily eighty percent of it, since all of the other goblins were loudly gorging themselves on my would-be dinner together—and began to log off. It was late at night in the real world, but there was probably at least one place I could pick up something suitable. Probably. Maybe.

One thing was certain, though: when next I returned to Aurora, I would have my pork, and it would be cooked to goddamned perfection.