There was a crack of sound, a whistling of an arrow parting air and then blood decorated the rocks.

Grant stared at the goat like creature a few meters away on another somewhat flat formation of the black mountain. Rock like brown horns curved backwards into near full moons, a caramel fur coat protected it from the chilling winds and its muscular legs granted it great power worthy of traversing mountains unhindered. One eye shed tears of crimson and the other shrank into a dot. For once, he was caught unaware, similar to the Ibex.

Horns tougher than iron, muscles carrying boulder cracking strength. Their enhanced stamina accrued from constant mountain trekking earned Stone Ibexes their keep on the destitute Blackrock mountain. Grasses nor fruits rarely sprouted on the barren mountain that labelled it useless in the eyes of other sentient beings, especially humans. The mountain served as a bad omen, a sign of misfortune making anyone steer clear of it.

Stone Ibexes. Their ruse lay inside tranquil appearances adopting a weird buff mountain goat kind of impression. They were strange, weird even on account of those ominous rectangular eyes.

These things were carnivores, cannibals even.

They would bound eight meters on one sitting, traversing Blackrock mountain with ease.

Grant’s first year onto this world was lackluster. Days would be spent sitting in school paying Mark’s teachings regarding morality, culture, the do’s and don’ts, and dangers surrounding Ortus village. Such monotonous days often fueled the goblin’s hollowness further.

He would sneak out to this hangout, gaze at everything and so far, these Stone Ibexes were the only thing he would see passing by. Sometimes said creatures shot him brief glances then carry on their way.

Grant didn’t bother the Ibexes, and they didn’t fuss over him either.

Like a child stumbling on his first steps. The Stone Ibex fell, its body slamming against the mountainsides until becoming lodged into one of the crags filling the mountain. Peering down the cliff granted one view of a long fall, guaranteeing the mountain goat’s demise.

‘I was lucky…’ Agitating a magic beast posed danger surpassing firearm wielding humans. He cast another peek on the rough, stone abyss beyond his chilling spot and threw the goat’s matter off his head.

“This bow is too good.” Grant nodded at his composite bow and picked it up again. Its base colored brown with ivory strips running through it, white string inclined the bow towards an “M” shape. Fingers stretching frontward, he seized the string, pulling rearward.

Resistance encountered his efforts, both arms holding the bow and one pulling back quivered in accordance to the weapon’s requirement of usage.

Twang!

“Damn!” Grant cussed.

He couldn’t hold it back anymore and the string slipped through his hold, cannoning back to its original resting form. The power vibrated through the weapon and Grant’s other hand. Seeking liberation, soon the thing shook itself free and flew a few inches airborne.

The goblin jumped and caught the rebounding bow. Sitting back on his butt, Grant heaved a sigh of relief while hugging the bow.

He hissed at the inanimate object, one second, he nearly lost it and now it was back in his grasp. “Don’t you ever dare leave me.” Grant disliked moments when his possessions would be taken, lost or used by someone else. Moreover, this bow he already liked, it was powerful and high quality. A firm proof of top quality craftmanship.

If he lost the bow to the mountains thanks to his inadequacy of handling then the goblin would be in a dour mood for a while.

Grant recalled his lessons about goblin kin, how upon ultimately developing discipline as well as resistance towards their inherent disposition while becoming educated, they become fearsome passion filled creatures.

The man remembered the loud clashes of metal and hearty laughs since arriving at Ortus’ blacksmiths. That place detached itself from the rest of the lively goblin village, like a distant cousin dreading noise though always there however far away, offering support to those who would seek them out.

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The smithy had a name, so did the inhabitants happily tinkering away on whatever tool they wished to create.

That area was dubbed The Forge and the blacksmiths called Marvel Makers.

Just then arrived dissonance, disrupting Grant’s relaxed musings. A crisp solitary chime of a ringing bell that came so suddenly thereby throwing off the goblin out of loop. Grant may have reincarnated and started over inside a goblin’s body, weaker than a human and definitely far from his peak strength from before.

Instincts nevertheless followed him onto this new life. His first reaction was to stand up, gaze at everything and ready his whole body for action. Albeit unable in drawing the bowstring back for long periods of time, Grant could still draw it back for a few seconds.

Enough time to nock an arrow and shoot.

‘I’m not alone…’

Or so he thought.

[You have slain a lv 14 Stone Ibex]

Shock marred Grant’s appearance. ‘That thing wasn’t dead yet?’ Concerning the magic beast which fell down the mountain once shot in the eye, the goblin was dead sure that it had died upon falling to its doom.

Yet now only did the system address and clarify the creature’s situation. ‘It probably still struggled down there for a bit then succumbed to internal bleeding or blood loss.’ He concluded.

Marks whilst not teaching goblin children body strengthening training methods or combat classes, he did state how dangers were divided on Shard. How strengths would differ according to their “stages” along with the different characteristics of the living things thriving in the land, air and water.

Consciousness in relation of where one’s power stands brings an added variable of safety. If you knew how dangerous a tiger was, you wouldn’t go anywhere near it while lacking countermeasures.

Ten special races coined “Main Races” proliferated throughout the realm of Shard. Such “Main races” possessed great intellect aggregated to their unique racial characteristics. The humans had their broken racial trait making it so that in the course of crisis periods threatening humanity, these sinful and virtuous creatures would find a way to carve a path for the sake of the future generation.

Humans were the weakest race out of the ten.

Dwarves, Elves, Demi-humans (Beast-Kin), Sky Farers, Seafolk, Automatons, Giants, Progenitors and Dragons eclipsed humanity in terms of strength. As soon as Grant first caught wind of the mentioning of said races, the man had come alive, his curiosity fueling his wishes of knowing.

“Dwarves and Elves are extremely elusive. Finding one would be akin to finding a needle in a haystack unless you’re one of them. The beast folk are common yet drawing close for observance would amount to a hail of swords and arrows coming our way. We’re monsters Grant, goblins.”

“If you can fly then go ahead and visit the Sky Farers In their kingdoms of clouds. If you could breathe underwater then the Sea folk are viable. And again, only do that if you have a death wish.”

“The Automatons, Giants, Progenitors and Dragons…”

“They’re all gone.”

Back then when Marks answered Grant’s questions, those revelations left the latter startled. Dragons could raze civilizations by themselves when enraged. Giants shattered mountains, their steps shaking the land itself, possessing hearts unknowing of fear. Automatons transcended the limits of thoughts and flesh, using highly advanced magical-technology in combating all opposition. While the progenitors were the most mysterious race of them all.

Undoubtedly the four strongest races, they still vanished. What could be the reason?

Many had asked, even goblins wondered why, regrettably, none knew the answer. None except one special being.

It was common worldly knowledge that history was subdivided into five great epochs.

The Archaic Era, The Sundered Age, The Time of Empires, The Age of Dread, and finally, The Era of Liberation.

Sixteen thousand years passed since the Archaic Era, the lone epoch where all records of history had been lost. Causing written history to restart once again during the Sundered Age. Only fragments and miniscule pieces of history survived it, and that too were unremembered by dint of the passage of time and the calamities each time period dealt with.

As for the only being able to remember all of history, it was the system.

Ever since The Sundered Age’s advent, the system was already there and it was still linked to all living beings. Be it the blessed Main Races, the savage Magical beasts or the frightening monsters not included in the ten, all life were linked through the system.

Alas, even if the system knew, it kept its lips sealed for all eternity.

Not once had the system spoken anything else other than stating its functions or notifying sentient beings of their advancements. The sheer possibility of the system storing the complete records of the past troubled all scholarly minds, sending them pulling their hairs off at the thought of such a vast amount of knowledge lying underneath an unbreakable barrier of silence.

Some grew mad, others rallied and formed a religion out of it with the system as their secretive god.

To peer through the windows of a library, see all the books but never to go inside and read them. To find that one good novel yet agonize over the idea of the next chapter probably being stuck in the author’s mind, buried by slight depression and anxiety topped off by an inferiority complex leading to them not updating it anymore.

It was frustrating to say the least.

[Your level has been raised to lv 4]

[Root essence has been gained.]

[Congratulations on your first reaping of a higher being.]

[Now live long and grow stronger.]

Prattling on concerning Grant’s achievements came the system, its monotone male voice ostensibly having given up on life tickled the curiosity in Grant’s brain.

Since the goblin had embarked on a journey to obtain control over the village of monsters consisting both of amazons and goblins, the reincarnated man had grown more curious to the world around him. To how the system worked and he grew interested in the world’s ancient history.

“Live long and grow stronger. Why should I do that?” Grant made a gamble, taking a quick inquisitive jab at the strange system silently watching over him.

Watching over him, Grant always felt it.

A pair of eyes looming over his soul, watching all of his actions and wordlessly judging him.

The surroundings grew eerily quiet. Grant’s heart started beating faster in expectation and his mind began conceiving ideas that the system would bestow some profound answer which would satisfy his curiosity.

[You have gained 4 skill points.]

Grant hissed. “Son of a bitch!” The system had been silent for a few minutes despite having spoken in his mind. The goblin stomped his foot on the ground a few times, blue balled since the answers to his questions appeared not.

A relieved smile spread across Grant’s face. “It won’t be easy finding the answers and it certainly would be dangerous trying to see all which this world has to offer.”

“But I like it.” Grant nodded.

For once he felt like his life had a little bit more of purpose in it now. At least in the meantime, he has a definite goal to work towards and a curiosity to sate.

Ten more minutes passed then the system spoke up.

[Access to the [Skill Emporium has] been granted.]

Grant grew confused at the long breaks of time between the system’s announcements. It used to be so fast to tell when he gained even a .01 increase to his attributes.

Was the system lagging?