Five days had passed since I first wore the crown of leaves and bone, since the goblins named me their king. The word still tasted foreign on my tongue. King. It was a title I had only ever heard in fairy tales or seen in movies and games. Yet here I was—some twisted, grotesque version of royalty, in a world that shouldn’t exist, surrounded by creatures that called me lord.

I found myself pacing more frequently now, my mind a whirlpool of perplexity and wonder. Evolution gnawed at my mind like a never-ending itch that I couldn't scratch. I had changed since killing that red goblin. My body had grown, my strength had increased, and my thoughts had become sharper. What was once primordial terror and survival instinct has evolved into calculation and strategy. But why? What power drove this transformation?

I stared at my hands—if they could still be called that. Thick, calloused, with claws instead of nails, skin tough and scarred from the battles I had survived. My reflection, caught in the blade of a chipped sword, showed the face of something far removed from humanity. Yet, inside, I was still me. Still a man trapped in the body of a monster, struggling to understand this new reality.

"This is... fantasy," I repeated under my breath, hoping that the ridiculousness of the words would somehow ground me. But it did not. It only confirmed the reality.

"Fantasy?" My reverie was disturbed by the voice of my guard goblin. His query had a tinge of curiosity and a spark of comprehension, but I doubted he actually understood what I meant.

"It's...nothing," I said, shaking my head. It was not worth discussing. These creatures had no idea what I had lost. What I'd left behind. The goblins now treated me with awe, almost as if I were worshipped. When I initially arrived in this body, I was little more than a grunt, a weakling among the weak, barely surviving in this barbaric world. But after the struggle, after I evolved, their attitudes shifted. They saw me as something more now. Something... greater.

Was it just the power? The raw strength that radiated from me? Or was it something else? Perhaps they sensed the intelligence. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that I had risen above them. I had taken what little power this world had offered and made it my own.

But it wasn’t enough.

My mind kept circling back to the orcs—the towering beasts that had taken so many of my goblins’ lives. My subjects had returned from their hunts beaten, bloodied and humiliated. Each time they came back with meager scraps of food, the stench of fear clung to them. Orcs.

Always the damn orcs. Stealing, killing and mocking us with their superior strength.

I could not stand it. I could feel the wrath seething beneath my skin, a steady heat that threatened to swallow me completely. It wasn't only about survival anymore. It wasn't only about food and territory.

It was about power. Dominance.

If I could kill an orc... if I could take its life, maybe—just maybe—I could evolve again. Become something more. Something stronger.

“King,” a voice broke through my thoughts, pulling me back to the present. A goblin, one of my hunters, stood before me, head bowed low. “Food gone...orcs...took. We no...fight them.”

The goblins looked at me, their eyes filled with fear and defeat. Their shoulders slumped, heads hung low, as if expecting punishment for the failure that weighed heavily on them.

I clenched my fists, the claws digging into my palms. Again.

I could feel their shame, their fear—yet none of that mattered to me.

Orcs. Those filthy beasts.

My stomach twisted with a surge of anger—an emotion I didn’t fully understand. Why did I care? I wasn’t one of these goblins. I had no connection to them. If anything, I despised their weakness. But this anger, this fury building inside me... it was undeniable.

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Was it my new body? Had becoming this monster ignited some hidden rage that was only now coming to the surface?

No, that didn’t matter. All that mattered was the burning desire to hunt. To fight. To kill.

I gritted my teeth as the thoughts churned within me. My body tensed, muscles coiling with anticipation. I wasn’t like this before—this thirst for battle, this eagerness to clash against something stronger. Yet now, it has consumed me.

I had decided. I was going to hunt those orcs.

The next day, I gathered the goblins. They flinched when I approached, but I had no time for their cowardice. I needed them to serve one purpose: reconnaissance.

“We’re going after the orcs,” I said, my voice sharp and commanding. “You’re going to find them, track them, and report back to me. Do not engage. Do not be seen. If they notice you, run. Got it?”

The goblins exchanged uneasy glances but nodded. They knew better than to argue.

Numbers were our only hope. I’d seen firsthand how much stronger orcs were compared to these pathetic goblins. But I’d also learned something important: overwhelming force was the answer. In a direct fight, the goblins stood no chance, but with the right tactics and enough of them... we might have a shot.

Sun Tzu’s words echoed in my mind. "Know yourself, know your enemy, and you will not need to fear the result of a hundred battles." Even if I didn’t respect these goblins, I knew their strengths and weaknesses. Digging was one of them—if they could build traps fast enough, perhaps we had a chance.

“Now go,” I commanded, waving them off.

They scattered into the forest, leaving me to prepare.

Four days passed. During that time, I gathered everything I could—sharp stones, sticks, anything that could be fashioned into crude weapons. I made sure the goblins brought back food to keep their strength up. Starving soldiers were worthless soldiers, after all.

The goblins returned with good news. They had found a lone orc that traveled the same path every day. A pattern—perfect.

We began to dig.

The goblins moved with a speed that surprised me, their hands and claws tearing into the earth with practiced precision. We made the pit deep and wide enough to trap the orc, and we lined the bottom with sharpened stakes made from wood and bone. If we could get the orc into the pit, it would be done for.

By nightfall, the trap was ready. We covered the hole with foliage and waited.

The moon hung high in the sky, casting eerie shadows through the trees. My body was tense, every muscle coiled like a spring as I crouched in the thicket. The goblins lay beside me, barely breathing, eyes wide with fear. We had one shot at this. If the orc caught wind of our trap, it would be over.

There it was. The orc lumbered into view, its massive body swaying as it walked. It carried a crude club, stained with dried blood, and its posture radiated confidence. It knew it was the predator in this part of the forest.

My heart raced as the orc approached the trap. Just a few more steps…

But then, it stopped.

The orc’s head tilted slightly, its nostrils flaring as it sniffed the air. A low growl rumbled from its throat. I could feel the tension rise in the goblins beside me. Panic flashed in their eyes.

“Stay calm,” I whispered through clenched teeth. But it was too late.

One of the goblins bolted, scrambling out of the bushes with a terrified scream.

"Dammit! This filthy whore!" I snarled, launching myself from my hiding spot.

The orc’s eyes locked onto the fleeing goblin, and it roared in fury, charging toward it with the club raised high. But I couldn’t let that happen. If the orc got to him, it would be over before the goblin had a chance to escape.

I lunged, my blade striking at the orc’s side. The impact sent a shock up my arm—the creature’s hide was like steel. It barely flinched as my sword scraped against its thick skin.

The orc turned its attention to me, its eyes burning with rage. It swung its club with terrifying speed, the air whistling as the weapon narrowly missed my head. I threw myself back, narrowly dodging the blow.

This was bad. One mistake, and I’d be dead.

I needed to get it into the trap.

The orc swung again, but I was ready this time. I sidestepped, leading it closer to the pit.

Just a few more steps.

The orc charged, its massive foot stomping down… and then the ground gave way.

With a deafening crash, the orc fell into the pit, its roar of fury turning into a scream of agony as the stakes pierced its flesh.

I stood at the edge of the pit, breathing heavily. The orc thrashed below, but it was trapped, its legs impaled and useless.

The orc’s head cracked open under the weight of my sword, and a sickening gush of dark-red fluid erupted, splattering across the pit.

“Guruaaa!”

The roar of triumph that escaped my lips was not my own—it was the cry of a monster.

And I couldn’t tell if that monster was the goblin I had become… or something far worse inside me.

....

I swung my blood-soaked sword in the air, reveling in the moment of victory, but something unsettling gnawed at me from within. It was as though something vile and insatiable was trying to consume me, crawling beneath my skin, fighting to take hold.

I grated my teeth, fighting the urge to scream. The sensation was unbearable, as though my body was being ripped apart from the inside. I jammed my sword into the earth, leaning on it for support as I fought against the wave of overwhelming pressure. My breaths came out ragged, my muscles tensing, my vision blurring.

“Ah…” A raspy, almost animalistic sound escaped my throat as I felt the transformation reach its peak. It was as if my entire body had been unraveled and reformed into something new—something stronger, more brutal.

I glanced down at my hands. The sight was both fascinating and horrifying. Where there had been three stubby fingers, now there were four—long, sinewy, and strong. My skin had thickened, becoming rough and resilient, like the hide of some ancient beast. My palms were wider, the fingers tapering into sharp, deadly claws that gleamed with a vicious intent. I flexed them, watching as they curled effortlessly, slicing through the air with a faint whistle. They felt... unstoppable.

My arms, once thin and weak, had thickened with muscle. Veins bulged under the taut skin, pulsing with an unfamiliar strength, like cords of iron coiling tightly around my bones. The wiry frame I had known was gone, replaced by limbs that bristled with power. I lifted one arm, marveling at the way the new muscles moved beneath the surface.

The most striking change was my skin. No longer mottled and red, it had darkened into a deep, ominous crimson. It wasn’t just a shift in color—it was as if my very flesh had hardened, becoming something almost unbreakable.

The sheen of it caught the faint light, giving it the look of freshly spilled blood, rich and menacing. This form was built for one purpose—destruction.

I took a deep breath, allowing myself to fully process what had happened. This wasn’t just a victory over the orc—it was a step toward something more. This evolution wasn’t just physical; it had awakened something deeper inside me, something ruthless.