I didn’t know how or when, but a certainty settled into my bones as the red goblin raised its foot and slammed it down on my head. My vision swam, but the hatred burned ever brighter.

"I King! You not go against!" it growled.

I tasted blood—blue, goblin blood—but it didn’t matter. I forced myself to respond, my voice hoarse.

"Gaik."

I won’t disobey. Not now, not yet. But soon. Soon, I’ll tear that smirk off your face.

As I lay there, consumed by pain and hatred, a distant scream broke through the haze.

“Enemy!”

Suddenly, the red goblin kicked me aside, its eyes darting to the horizon. I lay in the dirt, discarded, as the sounds of battle filled the air. Orcs—three of them—had appeared, and they were tearing through the goblins like paper.

I watched in a daze as the goblins threw themselves at the orcs, trying to stop the advancing tide. It was hopeless. The orcs were twice their size, their clubs smashing through the goblin ranks with ease. Blood and gore splattered the ground as goblin after goblin fell. Their crude weapons bounced off the orcs’ thick hides, unable to land a killing blow.

And the red goblin? It stood there, watching. Ordering more goblins into the fray but never stepping in itself. Its cowardice was palpable, its cruelty even more so.

An orc, enraged and desperate, broke through the goblin lines and charged straight at the red goblin. It was over in seconds—the red goblin was sent flying.

The moment I saw the red goblin’s limp body, a dark satisfaction welled up inside me. Its arrogance, its cruelty, the way it had beaten me without a second thought—it all flashed in my mind like a whirlwind. Now, it lay before me, unconscious and vulnerable.

I could end it.

"Gi… gigi," I muttered, the strange goblin sounds slipping from my lips unbidden.

My hands, still trembling from the pain of the earlier beating, gripped the chipped sword that lay discarded on the ground. I staggered forward, my vision blurred, my heart racing. The blade felt heavier than I expected, but I welcomed its weight. It gave me purpose.

I stood over the red goblin. This thing had made me feel powerless and made me believe I was less than dirt. But now? Now, I had the power to decide its fate. I raised the sword, my muscles tensing as I prepared to strike. For a moment, doubt flickered—Was this truly me? A man who, just a day ago, would never have considered murder?

But that doubt was drowned by a surge of anger, and I plunged the sword into its neck with all the strength I could muster.

The blade slid through flesh, and the red goblin’s eyes shot open, wild with shock. It tried to scream, its voice garbled and weak, but I didn’t let it. I twisted the sword, feeling the resistance of its flesh and bone, and then wrenched it sideways.

"Gigugyaguguaa!" Its death rattle echoed in the clearing, a final cry of defiance.

And then… silence.

I stared at its motionless body, the reality of what I had just done sinking in. My heart pounded in my ears, my breathing ragged. I killed it. I killed him.

The realization should have felt like victory. I expected triumph, maybe even relief. But instead, my hands were shaking—more than before. My body trembled uncontrollably as something stirred within me—deep and primal.

"Gigigugu..." I gasped, clutching my chest as a violent wave of energy surged through me. What… what is happening?

It felt like my insides were being torn apart, twisted by something alien. I collapsed to my knees, the sword clattering to the ground beside me. My vision darkened, but I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the corpse. As the last vestiges of pain ebbed, I slowly looked down at my arms.

My skin.

It wasn’t the dull green of a lowly goblin anymore. It was red—deep, dark, and as rough as stone. My fingers, which had been thin and weak, were now thick and clawed, veins bulging beneath the surface.

“Ah…” I whispered, but the sound that came from my mouth was no longer human. It was deeper, guttural.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

The other goblins, the ones who had been watching from the shadows, began to step forward. I hadn’t noticed them before, too consumed by my own transformation. But now, their eyes were all on me—wide, gleaming with a strange reverence. Fear? Respect? I couldn’t tell.

One of them broke the silence.

“King,” it rasped.

King? What is it talking about?

I looked up, disoriented. The word felt wrong, foreign, and yet… something inside me understood. The other goblins began to gather around me, their expressions expectant.

“Your orders, King.”

My orders? I blinked, my mind spinning. I wasn’t one of them. I was human—or at least, I had been. But as I stared down at my monstrous hands, I couldn’t shake the intoxication that flooded my senses. It wasn’t the joy of being strong nor the horror of becoming this grotesque creature. It was something else—power.

For the first time since arriving in this twisted world, I felt control. Real, tangible control. These creatures, who had once ignored me or treated me like trash, now looked at me with respect, fear, and something bordering on worship.

I wasn’t just a goblin anymore. I was their leader. Their king.

I should have felt disgusted. I should have wanted to run, to scream, to claw my way back to some semblance of humanity. But instead, I felt… alive.

“Gi,” I growled, testing my new voice. It rumbled in my throat, the power behind it undeniable. The goblins immediately straightened, awaiting my command.

I stood slowly, my newfound strength coursing through me. The world seemed clearer, sharper and more vibrant. And as I looked at the goblins, I realized something that sent a chill down my spine: I didn’t want to go back. I didn’t want to be human anymore.

Not when I could have this.

This power. This respect. This… freedom from the weakness that had plagued me my entire life.

The goblins continued to wait for my orders, their eyes wide, eager. They would follow me. They would die for me. I was their king now.

"Follow," I commanded, my voice low but filled with authority.

As they fell in line behind me, I felt a dark satisfaction bloom in my chest. I was no longer the victim in this world.

I was the predator. And I had no intention of ever being prey again.

The battlefield was chaos. The orcs—massive, towering beasts—were cutting through my goblins as if they were nothing but wheat before a scythe. Each swing of their heavy clubs sent bodies flying, bones snapping like twigs. The air was thick with the stench of blood, the ground soaked in red and green. I stood at the front of my goblin army, heart hammering in my chest, watching as one by one, my goblins fell.

I should run. The thought clawed its way into my mind. These orcs—they were too strong, too large. Their bulging muscles glistened with sweat and blood, and their eyes burned with a savage fury that made my blood run cold. I had seen death before, but not like this—not this kind of brutal, unstoppable force.

But behind me, my goblins looked at me with wide, terrified eyes. They were waiting. For me.

Me.

A twisted goblin, barely different from the rest of them. Their king. And a king didn’t back down, no matter how overwhelming the odds.

How? How had I gotten here? How had I come to lead these creatures into a battle I knew we couldn’t win?

My fingers tightened around the hilt of my chipped sword, the blade dull and battered. It felt almost laughable in my hands—a tiny, pathetic weapon against monsters. But still, I couldn’t move. Couldn’t run. Not when I could feel the weight of their stares, feel the mantle of authority resting on my shoulders, crushing me under its weight.

The first orc charged. Its footsteps were thunderous, like the earth itself was trembling under its weight. My goblins surged forward to meet it—a wall of green bodies, desperate to stop the oncoming storm. But the orc barely slowed. One swing of its club, and three goblins were crushed beneath it, their bodies broken, twisted.

My breath hitched in my throat. Fear. It was choking me, threatening to freeze me in place. My mind screamed at me to flee, to save myself.

But… if I ran, where would I go? What would I be? A coward.

And worse, I’d lose everything. The power. The throne. The authority that I had claimed.

But then, something else stirred inside me—anger.

Not at the orcs. Not even at the fear. At myself. How could I even think of losing? I had tasted power—true power—for the first time in my life. I had been a king, even if only for a fleeting moment. And I would be damned if I let these brutes strip that away from me.

The rage burned hotter, pushing back the fear. My heart pounded harder, and I felt something inside me snap.

“GRAAAHH!”

I opened my mouth and let out a guttural roar, the sound ripping from my throat like the cry of a wild animal. The orc, mid-charge, locked eyes with me, its lip curling in a snarl. But I didn’t care anymore. Fear and logic melted away, leaving only the raw, primal desire to survive. To dominate.

I charged, rushing toward the orc with reckless abandon. The chipped blade in my hand felt like an extension of my fury. As I closed the distance, the orc raised its club high, ready to smash me into the ground. Time seemed to slow. My breath was ragged, my legs burning with the effort of sprinting toward my death. But I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop.

With a scream, I dove under the orc’s swing at the last second. The club smashed into the ground behind me with an earth-shaking thud, spraying dirt into the air. I swung my sword, aiming for its legs. The blade connected, biting into its thick, muscular calf. The orc roared in pain, but it was shallow—a mere scratch. Still, I grinned. I had hurt it.

The orc staggered, and in that moment, the goblins swarmed. They attacked with renewed ferocity, emboldened by my reckless charge. But they were still weak. Their small weapons bounced harmlessly off the orc’s skin, barely more than an annoyance to the hulking beast.

It roared again, swinging its club in a wide arc. More goblins were sent flying, their bodies crumpling on impact. But I was already moving, dodging, circling, looking for an opening. The fear was still there, gnawing at the edges of my mind, but it was drowned out by something more powerful—rage. Rage at the orcs for daring to challenge me. Rage at the world for throwing me into this nightmare. Rage at myself for even considering running.

I would not be weak. I would not lose.

I was running on pure adrenaline now. I leaped onto the orc’s back, clawing at its flesh with my free hand. My fingers dug into its thick, leathery skin, and the orc bucked wildly, trying to throw me off. But I held on, driven by pure desperation. My chipped sword flashed in the dim light as I stabbed it into the orc’s neck again and again. Blood sprayed across my face, warm and thick, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop.

The orc let out a final, gurgling roar before collapsing to the ground with a thunderous crash. For a moment, I lay there, panting, my body trembling from the effort. The battlefield was quiet—too quiet.

I stood, my legs unsteady beneath me, and looked around. The remaining orcs were still standing, but they hesitated now, their eyes flicking between me and their fallen comrade. I could feel their uncertainty. Their doubt.

Good.

A savage grin spread across my face. My blood was boiling, my body screaming in pain, but I felt alive. More alive than I had ever felt before.

I raised my sword high, blood dripping from the blade, and let out another roar. The goblins, battered and bruised, rallied behind me, their fear forgotten in the face of my defiance.

The orcs charged again, but this time, I didn’t wait. I met them head-on, my goblins following in my wake. The next moments were a blur of chaos—of blood and sweat and pain. I fought with everything I had, swinging my sword wildly, biting, clawing and kicking. When my sword broke, I used my fist. When my fist failed, I used my teeth.

It was madness. Pure, unrelenting madness.

And in the end, when the dust settled, when the last orc lay dead at my feet, I stood victorious.

My body ached, my lungs burned, and my vision swam, but I had won. I had fought with everything I had, and I had won.

Around me, the surviving goblins stared in awe. Their king, their leader had led them to victory.

I stood over the bodies of the orcs, my chest heaving with exhaustion, and let the feeling of triumph wash over me. The fear was gone, replaced by a heady, intoxicating sense of power. I had faced death, stared it in the eye, and emerged stronger.

I was not just a goblin anymore.

I was their king.

This was my kingdom now.

And nothing—no one—would take that from me.