The sound of laughter filled the room, coming from many different people. Many humans were standing outside the pit. Filled with vicious joy they had watched the slaughter with great pleasure.

“Round up the living and send them to the pens.” said the Man with Rough Hands.

Life in the pens was as terrible as I expected it to be. In small rooms filled beyond capacity, goblins lay upon goblins getting what little rest they could manage. An existence of the lowest form imaginable, covered in the collective filth and waste of a mass of goblins. Fed once a day in a large trough you either fought for food or you died. Violence, hunger, and death were my constant companions. Only the strong survive as those who are weak were culled quickly. Disease spread rampantly in the pens, spreading from the rotting corpses that became our bedding.

This is how the first few months of my new life went by. With incessant fighting and inevitably slaughtering countless goblins, my resolve never lessened. I will SURVIVE. Goblins grow quickly, in a matter of months the batch of goblins I belonged to were deemed ready to become working slaves. Those who survived those first months were rounded up chained together and led out of the pens. I was the last to be dragged out and chained. After I was chained a man walked toward the pen.

The man stopped at the door and extended his hand toward the floor. A crimson glow started to encase his hand as a stream of fire erupted out. The flame consumed the corpses and the filth as the man directed it around the room. The work went quickly and left a horrid smell in the air and naught but ash on the floor.

Eyes wide with shock I screamed internally. MAGIC IS REAL IN THIS WORLD!!! Struggling to keep my excitement under wraps so these slavers didn’t get suspicious, I took small deep breaths. Reeling my thoughts back under control I started to calm myself. Relax. Don’t get distracted. One problem at a time. Survive slavery for starters. Finding out if I can learn magic is a quest for a later date. Get your shit together before you get yourself killed again. Shaking my head vigorously to clear these thoughts I snapped out of my daydream.

One of the men yelled and shoved the goblin at the head of the line roughly forward. One after another the goblin chain shambled forward. The clanking of chains and the piercing sound of a whip cracking were the anthems of our march. The journey ended up being shorter than I expected as we came to a halt maybe half an hour later. I accidentally walked into the back of the goblin in front of me because I wasn’t paying attention. Nearly stumbling to the ground I hastily righted myself to avoid the lash of that dreaded whip. I sighed, eyes darting around checking to see if my mistake was noticed. Relief filled me as I learned it went unseen. Woo, that was a close one. Even the simplest of errors could have led to a painful beating.

The lead goblin was unleashed from the chain and led into a room by himself. Bright flashing lights burst from the room as a loud *CLICK* echoed out of the chamber. The goblin was then escorted out of that room and given a command to stand off to the side. The goblin obediently walked over and stood as still as a statue exactly as directed. Now, this came as a massive surprise to me because of the language barrier, but it happened. In my astonished stupor, several more goblins had gone through the same process and were now standing alongside the first.

Racking my brain trying to understand how this was done I noticed that every goblin that went through that room came out with a black metal collar. Mentally face-palming myself, due to my arms being in chains, it dawned on me. MAGIC! Another form of magic, of course, it’s magic you fucking idiot. I know you’re tired but come on! You need to get your head in the game if you want to stay alive.

One by one the goblin train entered and exited the room with a brand new shiny accessory. After what seemed like an eternity of me panicking internally, but was in reality a measly few minutes, it was my turn. I was taken off the chain and before I could bring myself to think of attempting escape I was dragged into the room. I wasn’t expecting to be sat down in a chair and have my arms strapped down. A man wearing gloves came forward with a grey collar and placed it around my neck. Holding one end in each gloved hand he nodded toward another man in a hooded robe. The man in the robe held his hands together and closed his eyes in concentration.

A bright light flashed throughout the room as the collar turned bright red. As the collar started to burn the flesh of my neck the collar clicked into place. A primal scream roared out of me as the collar continued to sear my flesh, but no sound came out. As the scream continued to echo through my mind the collar slowly turned black as it cooled. The man in the gloves spoke some words that I couldn’t understand as he undid my bindings. Before I could collect my scattered thoughts I stood up and marched obediently to the group of goblins joining the ranks.

Another member of the slaver group ordered us to start marching and led us to the foot of a mountain. I tried my hardest to disobey and stay still but it was to no avail. Stop moving damn you. My mind screamed at my body to stand still. No matter how hard I attempted to force my limbs to stop they kept moving. Resistance wasn’t an option as the unknown magic dominated my body leaving my mind flabbergasted. This is no good. I won’t survive if I don’t learn how things work in this new world I call home. Relax. All I have to do is not die. Hahaha, easy right?

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If only I had known how seriously I was wrong with that passing thought. Magically ensured obedience is a hell of a thing to attempt to break. Trying as hard as I could and still doing nothing I began doubting myself into a downward spiral. Forcibly we marched into the cave passing dimly lit corridors one after another. Shadows played on the cavern walls as the flames of torches danced with the wind. Deeper and deeper we traveled until we finally arrived at a sizeable underground town.

Well, would you look at that? A “secret” underground Slaver town. Such a classic trope, it’s not like that hasn’t been done to death. How can a world be so interesting with such lame-ass people? Ugh, I’m disappointed. I wonder how long it’ll take before I know enough of the layout to get myself the hell out of here? Eh, it shouldn’t take too long with these original thinkers. Just have to stay focused and learn as much as possible while not being in control of my body. Oh yeah, it’ll be easy. Right…

Upon arrival, we were handed off to another man after a brief conversation and exchanging of a bag, presumably filled with whatever currency these people use. The man barked a command and led us out of the town, down a small corridor into a mine of some sort. A plethora of racks holding pickaxes and shovels lined the walls. Goblins are too numerous to count scurrying around working at hazardous speeds.

Some were hacking away at the cavern walls, some were excavating tunnels, and the rest were moving dirt and debris in carts. It was a horrible sight to behold. These people are monsters. They are breeding goblins to be slaves. A nearly infinite renewable slave force. I have to try to change this. How can I?

Immediately after that thought echoed through my mind, and orders were yelled. The new batch of goblin slaves jumped to work with great haste, myself included, much to my chagrin. I rushed forward against my will and grabbed a pickaxe. Swinging a pickaxe most of the day, we had a short meal right before the few hours of sleep we were allowed. Day in, day out. This routine was only ever interrupted when we mined our way into a monster's den or unveiled a hidden dungeon.

While these events didn’t occur often when they did the results were deadly and disastrous for the slaves. If it was a monster den then the poor goblins who opened it would be commanded to rush in and attack. Ordered to their slaughter, wave after wave of goblins were massacred until the monsters succumbed to exhaustion and were finally killed.

The surviving goblins would drag the corpses of the monsters to a special area to be harvested by the humans. They were also forced to search the dens for any items of interest for their Masters. This usually included items the monsters had collected, which varied depending on the monster species, ranging from shiny gems to money and leftover equipment from those they fed upon.

The dungeons on the other hand were much more dangerous. A horde of goblins would be forced to explore them when they were found. On these rare occasions few if any goblins returned. The goblins would be followed by many slavers. The slavers would force the goblins to take the full force of monsters and traps.

Yes, you heard that correctly. Traps. Many species of dungeon-dwelling monsters were quite intelligent and could make and set all kinds of traps. Pretty neat huh? Not for me or the rest of the goblins. Goblins died very quickly triggering these traps so the Masters stayed safe. These traps were brutal. Some traps triggered rockslides, some were spike pit traps. While others were magical traps that electrocuted anything near it, turned the room into an inferno, or filled the air with poison gas.

No matter the trap it was always deadly to the goblins that triggered them. This is how the dungeons were explored. When monsters were found the goblins would be meat shields while the Masters attacked with various forms of magic. When the goblin groups were eliminated more would be ordered down while the Masters rested. This was repeated until the dungeon was completely cleared and looted.

For five long years, I mined and excavated these tunnels. Slowly getting stronger because of the constant hard labor and fighting for meals. Five years as a slave until the tunnels I was tasked with mining betrayed me. On that fateful day, a dungeon was uncovered.

Son of a bitch! No. Not this. Goblins are at the forefront. Traps were triggered. Goblins died. Until I found myself in the vanguard. Treading forward without faltering, hitting monsters with my pickaxe. Somehow I didn’t die to these savage beasts. Exploring deeper and deeper into the dungeon I managed to survive while goblins died all around me. Maybe I will be one of the few who make it out of this dungeon.

Time went by slowly as we delved deeper into the greedy pursuit of riches. The room in front of us was quite large. Across from us was a single door. The room was suspiciously empty of monsters so naturally, the Masters forced the goblins forward with me at the front. I led my brethren slowly toward the center of the room, nervously expecting monsters with every step. With every step, my mind started racing faster and faster with each moment that we weren’t ambushed. This isn’t looking good for us. A gentle click rang out as my next step returned to the floor and hit a pressure plate signifying the triggering of a trap. Oh shit!

The entirety of the room started to quake as dust and debris started falling from the ceiling. The slavers panicked and ran as speedily as they could back through the safety door. The size of the debris grew larger as the ceiling was violently shaken apart and continued to fall. The ground beneath our feet was slowly destroyed as the ceiling cascaded down. Goblins one and all stood motionless as the magic that enthralled us demanded.

The floor opened into a dark abyss as we fell amid the shattered rocks. The entire room followed us down. As the dust settled the slavers looked at the door across from them with deep sadness. Agonizing over the loss of loot from the rest of the dungeon they returned to the village cursing the impossibility to cross the chasm.