Another month passed without much excitement. Yeoman sat on his rock, staring up at the sky. It was blue, just like the sky back on Earth; if he didn’t know any better, he’d have thought he was in a rural area with little light pollution. However, he did know better, and even if he wanted to be back on Earth, he was stuck here, surrounded by chattering goblins. Small Booger had succeeded in memorizing the alphabet, and the goblin even learned simple words like work and food. In fact, those were the only two words it knew, but it was still something.
The process of teaching the goblins might’ve seemed slow, but there was hope in sight: the goblin babies. The goblins bred extremely quickly, each mother giving birth to over ten goblins at once. It was no wonder why the receptionist had said the goblin population would double within a few months. Yeoman couldn’t help but think her estimation was off. If each baby survived to adulthood, which only took a couple of months, the population would triple or quadruple. Under normal circumstances, the goblin babies would die off before reaching adulthood, but circumstances were anything but normal under the rule of a goblin king—a king with the financial backing of the human adventurers’ guilds. Feeding them wouldn’t be an issue, and predators could be fended off by Yeoman.
Yeoman glanced at his left wrist, more specifically, at a line that was displayed there.
[Obtained Wyvern Gene Fragment]
[Wyvern Gene Fragment: Collect one hundred fragments to obtain a Wyvern Gene (Epic).]
A week ago, a wyvern had invaded. Today, its head was displayed near the center of the camp by the rock with the alphabet written on it. Yeoman had used his tried-and-true method of killing creatures capable of swallowing him whole against the poor wyvern. He threw himself into its mouth, crawled his way down its throat, and tore its stomach apart. The goblins were more than impressed by the feat, and many goblin babies were named after him. In fact, there were now over a hundred goblins named Yeoman in the camp. The goblin babies didn’t give him hope because they were named after him but because their minds were like sponges, soaking in everything around them. Many of them already knew more letters of the alphabet than the adults. Yeoman suspected it’d only take two to three more generations before goblins capable of communicating with humans appeared.
“King Big Wings, King Big Wings, good news! The ceremony is ready!”
The ceremony? Yeoman furrowed his brow. The goblins had been chattering about a ceremony for a while now. He had asked one of them what it was all about, and they said it was to celebrate him becoming king. Yeoman insisted he didn’t want a ceremony, and the goblins laughed while nodding, nudging each other and winking. He wasn’t sure if they thought he was joking or if they took his suggestion seriously; it was hard to interpret goblin faces. Apparently, smiling was a sign of aggression, much like baring one’s teeth to a chimpanzee.
“Come, Shaman Bright Eye is waiting.”
“Where are you going?” a feminine voice asked. The receptionist was standing by the alphabet rock, the wyvern head looming over her. For some reason, she looked like she wanted to kill someone. It probably had to do with the fact she had been standing by that rock for the past two months without any form of entertainment.
Yeoman cleared his throat. “The shaman wants to see me,” he said. “It’s about … the last wyvern attack, I think.”
The receptionist nodded. “While you’re at it, can you kidnap someone and have them replace me?”
Yeoman let out a small laugh. After spending two months together as the only humans, their relationship had developed to one where they could joke around with each other. Of course, Yeoman still had no idea what her name was, and at this point, he felt it’d be too awkward to ask. “Sure thing.”
“I’m not kidding.”
Yeoman chuckled and nodded, his behavior much like one of the goblins when they had heard him ask to cancel the ceremony. He left the receptionist behind and headed towards the shaman’s tent. The shaman was much more civilized than the other goblins; then again, that wasn’t really a high standard. The tent was a shoddy structure made of leather pelts held up by a skeletal wooden frame.
“King Big Wings!” Shaman Bright Eye said once it spotted Yeoman. “After a week of fermenting, the wyvern blood wine is finally ready. The ceremony can begin!”
Yeoman had no clue what the shaman was talking about. The wyvern he had killed had its blood turned into wine? The goblins who couldn’t tell their lefts from their rights knew how to make alcohol? How was this knowledge even passed down? As far as Yeoman could tell, there should’ve been a huge loss of information every time the goblins were exterminated by the humans, but somehow, their traditions were passed on just fine. Yeoman’s expression darkened. Knowledge could survive generations despite the huge loss of population, but the goblins couldn’t even memorize the alphabet. There was something seriously wrong with how their brains were wired.
Shaman Bright Eye stepped out of the tent and waved its new staff. Yeoman wasn’t sure if the staff was magical or not, but he felt like it’d be inappropriate to take it away now that he and the shaman were allies of sorts. “Guards,” the shaman said. “Secure the clearing. No one can interrupt the ritual!”
Wasn’t this happening too fast? Yeoman hadn’t even gotten the chance to say a single word. “Wait—”
“Rest assured, King Big Wings,” Shaman Bright Eye said. “The guards know what they are doing. Even if they didn’t, no one here wishes to interrupt your ceremony. You threw yourself into the jaws of death and ripped your way out of its belly. We all look up to you.”
Yeoman had nothing to say in response to that. “What happens during this ceremony?”
“You don’t have to worry about a thing.” Shaman Bright Eye grabbed Yeoman’s arm and led him to the center of the clearing. “When the time is right, all you have to do is drink the wine.” The shaman pulled a bottle made of plants out of its loincloth and handed it to Yeoman.
Yeoman stared at the bottle. Then, he stared at the location the bottle had been stored. “You want me to drink this?”
“Yes,” the shaman said. “It’s very valuable, but don’t be shy. It was with your effort that we obtained the blood in the first place.”
Yeoman glanced at his left wrist. There weren’t any lines of text appearing, so it seemed like the aliens valued the bottle as less than junk. “Very valuable. I understand.”
The shaman nodded at Yeoman and waved its arms, turning towards the crowd of goblins. “Come, begin the ritual!”
The goblins cheered and hooted, their words unintelligible. Yeoman suspected the aliens’ translation function wasn’t working because the goblins weren’t actually trying to convey any meaning. Yeoman had no idea when these goblins had choreographed a dance, but the goblins were all twisting and turning their bodies in sync. Yeoman’s expression darkened. The dance was composed of many steps, many arm swings, and many twisting motions; if they had spent a similar amount of effort on learning the alphabet as they did on dancing, they would’ve been ten steps closer to mastering English.
Yeoman considered leaving, but the goblins had dedicated a lot of time and effort into this—a lot of time and effort that could’ve been better spent elsewhere. Yeoman sighed. He wasn’t going to be a killjoy. Rest and relaxation were necessary for good results. Perhaps this celebration of theirs would encourage them to work harder in the future. However, even though Yeoman decided he would go along with their ritual, it was still awkward standing around while the goblins were dancing and hooting their lungs out. It was like it was his birthday, and everyone was staring and singing at him while he stared at the cake in silence.
Thankfully, his awkwardness didn’t last too long. “Drink the wine!” the goblin shaman shouted and started chanting. “Power, power, great power, grant the king, power, power, great power, grant the king, great power. Earth, earth, the earth, blessing of, the earth, with the blessing of, the earth, blessing of, the earth.”
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Yeoman ignored the shaman’s repetitive chanting and opened the bottle by lifting a sticky leaf. Yeoman didn’t want to know what substance the shaman had used to glue the bottle shut, and he didn’t want to know either. He tilted his head back and poured the bottle into his mouth, not letting the container touch his lips. Liquid poured into Yeoman’s mouth, and the familiar taste of blood cause his stomach to gurgle. He gulped the delicious liquid down, and after three gulps, there was none left in the bottle. The wyvern was huge, large enough to swallow Yeoman whole, but somehow, there was only such a tiny amount of blood. The goblins probably drank it all while preparing for the ceremony.
“Power, power, great power, grant the king, power, power, great power, grant the king, great power.”
“Earth, earth, the earth, blessing of, the earth, with the blessing of, the earth, blessing of, the earth.”
The goblins weren’t shouting, but they all chanted at the same time after Yeoman finished drinking the blood wine. Tingling sensations covered Yeoman’s body; it was a bit odd considering he hadn’t felt tingles in a long time. The vibrations from the goblins’ chanting caused the leaves in the nearby trees to shake. The dirt was bouncing up and down beneath their feet, and an alarmed woman came into view. The receptionist stood at the back of the crowd, and Yeoman could practically see the question marks floating over her head.
“Your blood for the king! Your flesh for the king! Your loyalty to the king!”
Blood filled Yeoman’s vision. The goblins scratched themselves, their fingers digging deep into their chests. They tore off bits of flesh and threw it into the air in Yeoman’s general direction. They continued to dip their fingers into their wounds and flung their blood at the sky. Yeoman was a little … horrified. He thought this was going to be a cheerful coronation ceremony, not a blood-filled mutilation festival. Then again, what else should he have expected from a Virlyce novel?
The shaman raised its staff and shouted at the top of its lungs, “With the blessing of the earth, grant the king great power!”
A brown cloud of dust surged underneath Yeoman’s feet, engulfing him. He was flooded by heat, and flashes of light repeatedly shone out of his left wrist.
[Unlocked genus Goblin.]
[Adding genus Goblin muscles complete.]
[Adding genus Goblin bone density complete.]
[Adding genus Goblin skin thickness complete.]
[Adding genus Goblin immune system complete.]
[Adding genus Goblin tendon strength complete.]
[Adding genus Goblin hyoid bone complete.]
Yeoman understood the first five improvements, but what the heck was a hyoid bone? He was pretty sure humans had them, but then again, he wasn’t a doctor; he didn’t have to know all the bones in the human body. When the goblins said there’d be a ceremony, Yeoman hadn’t expected his strength to increase. It turned out kindness did pay off. If he hadn’t chosen to help the goblins, then he wouldn’t have gotten so many upgrades—just the bonuses alone would’ve cost him six thousand points if he were to buy them through the aliens.
“King Big Wings, how do you feel?” Shaman Bright Eye asked, approaching Yeoman with wide eyes. “Do you feel strong? Powerful?”
Yeoman clenched and unclenched his hands. Honestly, he couldn’t feel a difference. He’d have to exert his strength to find out. Since goblins were so similar to chimpanzees, gorillas, and orangutans, Yeoman assumed the added genus Goblin muscles gave him an equal amount of increase in his strength. The bone density and skin thickness were nice, making him more resilient. The immune system was a little useless considering he had the human zombie fungus running through his veins. As for the hyoid bone, Yeoman still wasn’t sure. It wasn’t a penis bone, was it? He was tempted to check, but the receptionist was storming towards him with a blank expression.
“What was that?” the receptionist asked. “You said the shaman wanted to see you about the last wyvern attack. Clearly, that wasn’t what this was about.”
Yeoman cleared his throat, and a rumbling sound like thunder rang out. He blinked twice. Was that sound caused by him? He cleared his throat again, and peals of thunder came out once more. “Uh, this was about the wyvern,” Yeoman said. For some reason, he thought his voice was different, deeper, but he wasn’t completely sure. His voice wasn’t something he usually paid attention to; it was something that was just there. “The shaman gave me a bottle of wyvern blood to drink, and the other goblins wanted to celebrate too.”
“So, they mutilated themselves and threw their flesh and blood at you,” the receptionist said, her eyes narrowed.
“Yes.” Yeoman nodded. “It’s their way of showing respect. Cultural differences, you know?” Lying had become so much easier ever since his blood had stopped flowing. He didn’t blush while feeling ashamed or embarrassed. “It’s pretty much over though, and all of them”—he glared at the surrounding goblins—“were getting ready to learn the alphabet after a quick break.”
“Yes!”
“We’re going to learn!”
“The king says we have to learn, so we have to learn!”
Yeoman was satisfied with their enthusiasm, but it was a shame no matter how enthusiastic they were, they were still deficient in certain parts of their brains. Yeoman was satisfied, but at the same time, he was uncomfortable. There was definitely something different about his voice and mouth. Was it the hyoid bone? In fact, there was a pretty large lump on his neck, but when he touched it, it felt solid.
“King Big Wings, try shouting a command,” Shaman Bright Eye said. “All goblin kings have loud voices.”
Yeoman furrowed his brow. He tilted his head back, inhaled through his nose, and shouted as loud as he could. He didn’t say any words, just let out a scream of frustration that had been building up after failing goblin after goblin for over two months. The scream sounded like he had turned on a jackhammer, and all the goblins flinched while the receptionist covered her ears. Yeoman shut his mouth and swallowed. On the Japanese man’s document of animal abilities, Yeoman recalled there was a species of monkey that could shout loudly enough for their calls to be heard over three miles away. It seemed like goblin kings had a similar ability.
The receptionist exhaled and stared at Yeoman. “Did you become a goblin king just now?” she asked. “It seems like we had it all wrong. Goblin shamans create goblin kings.”
Yeoman frowned, wondering if he should continue denying it. “Even if I did become the goblin king—and that’s a hypothetical if—wouldn’t it still be a good thing for humans if the goblins work for them?”
“The goblins will only listen to you, not the king,” the receptionist said.
“But I’ll listen to the king.”
“But the goblins won’t.” The receptionist sighed and shook her head. “Nobility is allowed to exist outside of royalty because the subordinates of the nobles will obey the king. What happens when the subordinates only follow the nobles and not the king? The nobles are treated as threats and eliminated.”
Yeoman frowned.
“Don’t think too hard about it,” a charming voice said, coming from beyond the crowd of goblins. A woman with pale skin and two silver horns on her head came into view. A horn was coming out of each of her temples. They grew downwards and curved forward like hooks. “Because, soon, you’re going to be dead.” Behind her, five more female demons came into view. They were dressed in clothes fit for a ballroom, but the weapons in their hands clearly indicated they were adventurers.
The receptionist swallowed. “Swirling Wind?”
Yeoman’s mind raced. He knew that name. Swirling Wind was an SSS-ranked adventurer party made up of demons. When Tafel, the main female character of The Blue Mage Raised by Dragons, was still a child, they took her in and taught her how to fight. Yeoman had no idea why these adventurers were here, but apparently, he was about to die.
“You know us?” the leader of Swirling Wind asked. She smiled, but there weren’t any hints of happiness in her eyes. “You should’ve expected us to come. The demon lord doesn’t want to see humans and goblins uniting, so he specially requested us to put a stop to that. I do think it’s a bit overkill to send us, but the demon lord insisted.” The demon extended her hand, and a blue orb of light appeared over it. She clenched her hand, scattering the light. “Frost Nova.”
A wave of blue washed over Yeoman. Cold engulfed his body, a layer of ice appearing around him. Yeoman struggled, twisting and turning, cracking the ice containing him. With a jerk of his arms and legs, the ice completely shattered. Tinkling sounds rang out as translucent crystals fell off of him and onto the frozen ground.
“As expected of a goblin king,” the leader of Swirling Wind said. “Ruji, you take care of it.”
“You always make me do the dirty work,” one of the demons said and stepped forward. Her sword glowed green, and she swept it from the left to the right. A horizontal blade of wind surged out of the demon’s weapon, and Yeoman barely managed to drop down in time. However, the goblins and receptionist were still frozen, unable to avoid the attack. The blade of wind cut straight through them, and the little gusts that followed the blade pushed against their stiff bodies. Torsos were separated from legs, sliding backwards and onto the ground. The crashing sounds rang loud and clear in Yeoman’s ears, each of them signaling the death of a goblin. There were so many. There was no flowing blood, just chunks of red ice. “Eh? It dodged?”
Yeoman knew he stood no chance against these people. He leapt into the air and spread his wings, flapping them as hard as he could. He glanced at the frozen field of corpses below, burning the sight into his eyes. The receptionist’s severed torso was lying on the ground, her face frozen in a twisted scream. Yeoman didn’t know her name, and now she’d never be able to tell him herself.
The leader of Swirling Wind pointed her staff at Yeoman, and he closed his eyes, visualizing the first place that came to mind: the lobby of the adventurers’ guild. There was a whooshing sound, and loud chattering entered Yeoman’s ears. He had escaped. This was the second time the Ravenwood Ring had saved his life; however, the goblins were dead, Shaman Bright Eye, Chieftain Long Toenail, Small Bogger, all dead. Logically, Yeoman knew he should’ve been thankful for surviving, but he wasn’t feeling thankful at all. He was only feeling empty.