The cave was dark this far in, not that it wasn’t dark most everywhere in the cave. You know, it being a cave and all, but still it was dark even for a goblin. Not that Chef minded, what with being a goblin. But still, it allowed his good friend to sneak surprisingly close to him before he woke up, swatting his hand away from his bag—

“Where is my bag, Kek?”

The goblin rubbed his hand as Chef slowly got up, grabbing Kek by the neck as he hauled him out of the sleeping room towards the kitchen. His kitchen. The bag was nowhere to be seen.

“Kek!?” He grabbed harder and pushed the goblin to the wall, a whispered yell oozing from his clenched teeth.

“Where is my bag?”

The goblin sputtered against his grip and mumbled a series of defenses that somehow managed to never actually outright say much at all, annoying Chef to the point where he threw the little green menace to the ground. The mutterings continued, of course. The occasional throwing wasn’t enough to cure a goblin of bad habits after all.

Eventually the little green turd scraped himself off the floor, soot staining his hands and ass thanks to the fallout from yesterday’s cooking fire. That is to say that there happened to be soot in the corner. At least he wasn’t the one that actually fell into the fire.

Kek put his hands up in a motion that the humans often did when they were defeated. The act of supplication meant “free meal, eat at your leisure” according to his people, calling into question the intelligence of any goblin making the move. Then again, Kek wasn’t very smart even for a goblin. Case and point.

“Chief plans to kill you, you know.”

Worthless deflection.

“Don’t try to change the subject, Kek.”

“No, no, serious. I heard him myself. Said that there’s only room enough for one Chief and it would be him.”

The interrogator put his face in his hands, a common sight to his clansmen. They probably just assumed it was a thing cooks did to manifest flavor or something equally unrelated.

“I’m Goblin Chef. Not Goblin Chief. They’re totally different. I just cook things.”

“Yea, but that’s only a letter off. Your next class evolution is sure to get you a letter.”

Massaging his temples, Chef continued to curse his fellow goblins in his mind as he struggled to dumb an explanation down enough for the idiot in front of him.

“That’s not how class evolutions work. It’s based on the current class. It doesn’t just add letters.”

“Idiot,” Kek said and Chef nearly burst a blood vessel. Not today, Chef. Not today.

“Every class evolution adds letters.”

Ok, maybe today.

“Chief isn’t as stupid as other goblins,” Chef offered diplomatically. “He wouldn’t just kill the cook for no good reason.”

At this point Kek shuffled his feet, drawing out his revelation as long as he could.

“Weeeellll, he did say that if he murdered you by himself and ate you right after then he’d get your powers.”

“Oh. Well, yes that does make sense then. No point letting the corpse cool; that’s no good for anybody.”

The other goblin nodded along understandingly; it was just natural after all. Well, natural for goblins at least. Who knew what other walking sacs of free experience got up to. Presumably they ate each other less though, otherwise they wouldn’t be such free experience in the first place. Or at least not free experience for goblins.

“So, I figured I’d help you out, Chef,” Kek spoke, drawing him from his thoughts. Chef prepared himself for idiocy as he met the blank stare. Eyes that empty were a common symptom of trauma; but, in this case, it was much more likely that the blank stare was just a reflection of the empty mind behind it.

“Go on,” Chef eventually said, his extensive blinking communicating something else entirely.

“Yea, you see I have this here, uh, juice!”

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“Juice, huh?”

“Yea!” Kek said excitedly. “I found some juice on the humans we jumped last week. Kept it for myself you know? But seeing as how you’re gonna die and all, I figured you deserved it more than me.”

Reaching behind himself and wincing slightly, he produced a small vial. He looked so proud too as Chef took the vial from him, grimacing at the smell. Swirling dark green liquid reflected a face furthering into a frown by the second. Lowering it, Chef stared at Kek behind half lidded eyes.

“Kek?”

“Yea, Chef?”

“Why are you trying to feed me a poison that I made?”

Kek looked incredibly offended at that as he moved to defend his character.

“That couldn’t be your poison. After all I traded your bag for it.”

He puffed out his chest, proudly displaying muscles on par with his intellect.

“Let me get this straight.” Chef began, putting his face into his hands.

“Your plan was to trade my bag. My bag of cooking supplies, ingredients, and the occasional poison. For a vial of poison. From another goblin. A vial of poison that looked just like five others in the bag. The bag that you had. And then you were going to get me to drink the poison.”

Kek nodded along, feeling quite proud of his incredible planning.

“What we’re you going to do after you poisoned me, Kek?”

“I was going to eat you of course!”

Chef buried his face in his hands, nearly crumpling to the ground.

“You were going to eat me right after you poisoned me?!”

“Hey you said yourself that there was no reason to let you get cold.”

“But I would be poisoned!”

“Of course you would be! How else could I kill you?! You’re way higher leveled than me!”

*Ping*

Congratulations! You gained Sense!

Between the chiming of the System and the phenomenal intellect on display before him, Chef was flabbergasted. By the time he finally managed to recover, the others had begun to stir thanks to all the shouting. A glance from Kek was all the warning he got.

“Chef’s escap-“

He pushed the vial into the goblin’s open mouth, pushing the gaping maw closed with all his might, and then he ran towards the mouth of the cave. A deep and powerful voice reverberated off the dank walls of their subterranean home as Chef climbed closer to the light, ignoring the convulsing green creature behind him.

“Grab that goblin!”

Chef didn’t slow down, not even when the sounds of flesh striking flesh and screams echoed from deep within the cave.

“Not just any goblin! Chef! Grab Chef!”

By the time the last order was given, he could barely make out any of what was said, even with his high stats. But he wouldn’t get complacent, a goblin didn’t live this long by taking chances. So, he rushed towards the entrance of the cave, ignoring each off-shooting tunnel and fork in the path as he sprinted into the daylight.

The sun was shining down on him in all of its potent glory. The cave was part of the way up an enormous mountain, granting him an incredible view spanning miles. The mountain scenery gave way before him as lush green fields and powerful trees filled his vision. There was nothing but sunshine and the majesty of nature as far as the eye could see.

Chef turned away, hissing.

Instinct told him to avoid the sun, told him that no light would be his friend. Instinct told him many things, like-

He was turned and looking into the tunnel. The tunnel, where he had just escaped while ignoring forks in the metaphorical road. And there, not a dozen goblin feet away, which really was quite close considering the size of the average goblin, was his bag.

He knew it was his bag, because sitting next to it was a larger goblin holding one of his spice jugs in one hand while grabbing a green arm in the other.

Said bigger goblin also happened to be sitting on another smaller, feebler goblin.

It is worth noting that all goblins have names at birth, and most any name given to a goblin at said time is quite worthless. But not equally worthless. Some goblins, like the large lad sitting before Chef, receive new names so quickly that it makes any other name they were given before even more worthless than usual. All of this is to say that three facts combined to result in one name that would usurp any other that could be handed to this creature. Firstly, the default state for any goblin is “starved.” Secondly, the goblin possessed a degree of rotundity never before seen by a goblin… in another goblin that is. Finally, goblins are inevitably named by other goblins, and the creativity and intellect in their species could not be understood.

His name was Chunk.

And so, shocked beyond his ability to act for the second time today, Chef watched as Chunk poured half a jug of watery spices onto the arm of the goblin he had pinned. And then he chomped down, ripping flesh in a spray of saliva and delicious smelling flavor augmenters. As the smaller goblin screamed, Chef’s anger overwhelmed his disbelief.

“You!”

Chunk looked up, released his prey, immediately hopped off of his seat, and distanced himself from the jug and bag as Chef stormed over. Chunk pointed to himself and did his best to feign ignorance or innocence, but only one ever looked natural on a goblin. Though swallowing a chunk of flesh he had just torn off of another living creature certainly didn’t help him much. He mouthed “Me?!” silently at the approaching cook as his previous throne laid on the ground, taking a break from screaming in agony to point to himself with his arm. The arm that had exposed bone covered in blood, spice, and saliva, flinging all three onto the cave walls and floor.

“Me?”

“Not you, you bleeding idiot!”

Chef grabbed the bag and the jug from the floor, completely uncontested by the goblin doing his best to whistle while the other slowly crawled away on his belly.

“Goblins…” Chef seethed as he spun around and made his way out the cave.

The sounds of flesh being bitten, meat slapping meat, and screams of pain and frustration followed him out as he stepped into the light. Meanwhile someone, somewhere, finally gave his final gasp as poison stole his life.

*Ping*

Congratulations! You have killed someone! 

“Fucking goblins…” he sighed.