It was raining today, so I spent the day inside the cave, leisurely working. The sound of stone striking stone echoed as I hit a mysterious obsidian-like stone I found by the river yesterday with a larger rock I picked up nearby, trying to polish the smaller stone. Following the example of those who came before me, I was sharpening a makeshift knife to use for skinning.
I figured it was about time to get myself some fur clothes. I wanted to graduate from the tattered rag that was still wrapped around my waist—my starting gear, basically—but the horn wasn’t suitable for cutting. If I wanted fur, I needed a knife.
As I worked, other goblins born around the same time as me gathered nearby, either drawn by the noisy grinding sound or out of curiosity. I didn’t know or care about the details. Some of them seemed to want to ask me something, but most just dispersed when I kept ignoring them, which was good because they were in the way. In contrast, older goblins watched me with strangely affectionate looks for reasons I didn’t understand.
By slightly past noon, I managed to create three makeshift knives, so I called it a day. To be honest, my hands were starting to hurt a bit. But as soon as I stopped making knives, I found myself with nothing to do. So, I called Gobkichi and Gobmi over to discuss hunting formations, reminding myself in the process that even though I was getting along well with my new comrades, they were still goblins.
We tossed around various ideas—mostly my suggestions, though Gobmi was smarter than Gobkichi and occasionally shared her own thoughts too. Gobkichi just nodded along, being quite the simpleton.
In the midst of our discussion, an exceptionally wrinkled goblin approached us. This was Gobjii, the eldest in our goblin community. He held a position like an advisor and was the one who named me Gobrou. We paused our strategy meeting to talk with him; Gobjii had learned a lot in his long life, so I didn’t want to miss this chance. Gathering information was crucial, after all.
Though the fact that he was an “elder” at just over twenty years old must mean this new body of mine didn’t have a long lifespan… Ha ha…
Pulling myself together, I listened as Gobjii told me about this world, the rules of leveling up, and the concept of Existence Evolution—which, yes, apparently existed in this world—as well as why our cave only had newborn goblins like us, along with relatively older goblins like Gobjii.
I’ll tell you the details about this world, leveling, and Existence Evolution later. For now, let me talk about the goblins living in this cave. It turned out that the younger goblins—those who might be our parents—were out working in the forest. And by working, I meant raiding, obviously.
What, you thought all goblins were weak enough to be killed by something like a horned rabbit? No, no, that was only true for newborn goblins. While goblins were indeed weak as a species, the goblins born in this forest trained from the day after they became mobile to survive on their own. Like me, they learned survival skills and cunning by using sticks or throwing stones—literally fighting for their lives to acquire these skills. The weak died, and only the strong survived. It was the harsh yet simple law of nature. I actually cried a little because it was so merciless.
Anyway, because so many newborn goblins in our group quickly formed partnerships and started using sticks to hunt horned rabbits right from the beginning, Gobjii believed more members of my generation would survive than in the past.
As I nodded to show I understood his words, I noticed that even at his age, goblins still had their drive to reproduce—perhaps because their end was near. How did I know? Unfortunately, I caught a change in Gobjii’s loincloth. I felt like vomiting, so I quickly ended the conversation and looked away. There was no way I could keep talking to him like that.
After our talk, Gobjii, looking quite pleased with himself, headed deeper into the cave to release his pent-up desires. A few moments later, I heard some distinctive bodily sounds and faint, weak screams.
I clasped my hands and whispered another small prayer to Buddha for the captured women. I know I’m repeating myself, but it really was impossible for me to rescue them in my current state. I hoped that someday I could give them some peace. Given their condition, remaining alive was likely the cruelest fate for them. I had at least that much compassion.