Chapter 7

# Chapter 7: New Adventurer Bern (Part 5) – The Special Entity

Blankah’s decision was swift.

“Let’s head back for now.”

Bern turned his gaze towards her.

“Why is that?”

“If they’re using scraps of stolen human clothing just to patch together rags, it means they’ve secured enough textiles. And the only way wild goblins could acquire that much human clothing is by raiding a village. Moreover, if they’re clumsily imitating humans and even fashioning and wielding weapons, it implies their group has grown far beyond our imagination.”

Goblin intelligence is roughly equivalent to that of a young human child.

But even children can form societies and learn things.

Certainly, they can’t sustain a highly advanced civilization like humans, but even their clumsy imitation is threatening enough.

“It’s not a problem two adventurers can vaguely handle. We need to report back to the guild first, then either petition the local lords to send troops or have the guild mobilize large numbers of adventurers.”

By Blankah’s standards, her reasoning was rational.

However, Bern asked her with a puzzled expression,

“Would that even work?”

“Huh?”

“Didn’t you just say it yourself? Lords don’t lift a finger for anything unless it directly concerns their territory. So do you really think they’ll even pretend to listen to the guild merely talking about sending a hunting party?”

“…Hmm.”

It was unlikely.

Even they, who had just arrived nearby, knew this. How could a lord remain completely unaware?

Yet the lord chose to commission the guild for a hunting request instead of directly sending his own troops.

And it wasn’t for a large-scale hunt but rather a casual request for just a few adventurers.

In other words, either the lord lacked the capability or the will to actively resolve the matter.

“The adventurers’ guild would likely have the same problem. To mobilize adventurers, substantial rewards are needed. And who’s going to pay for that?”

“…Ah.”

Blankah let out a hollow laugh.

It wasn’t directed at Bern. It was self-deprecating — frustration with herself for failing to consider something so obvious that even a newcomer like Bern could immediately realize.

“Then, what do we do?”

“We’ll take care of it.”

“Huh?”

Blankah momentarily froze in disbelief before frowning.

“I get that you’re strong, and you have confidence in your abilities, but our opponent could potentially be a crowd of goblins numbering in the hundreds. How do you expect to handle that with just a sword?”

“We will have to handle it. And besides, sooner or later, I’ll have to face Richi with nothing but a sword.”

“—”

Blankah was genuinely at a loss for words this time, not because of Bern’s words, but because of his eyes, brimming with unwavering confidence and determination.

“Haaa.”

Blankah sighed deeply.

Her rational mind judged it as an absurd and reckless plan. Even someone with great strength and excellent senses wasn’t guaranteed success in actual combat, especially with an inexperienced rookie like Bern. She, the veteran, was supposed to be the one guiding him.

But, if you really thought about it, wasn’t she pursuing an equally improbable goal?

“Alright, let’s try it. Whatever.”

At Blankah’s response, Bern’s smile only grew.

And so, the war between just two adventurers and a horde of goblins began.

***

The first thing ‘It’ ever recognized after being born was the sight of a human woman screaming in agony, accompanied by tears.

Her frail body, drained of its vitality, could barely muster enough strength to let out words through her parched throat. Yet the woman cried out persistently, repeating the same words over and over.

Though young, ‘It’ vaguely understood what the woman was saying.

She was cursing.

The world, her situation, the monsters that had violated her, and even the ‘It’ that had been born from her womb — she was cursing and hating everything.

She was screaming for them to just die already.

Over and over, she cried. Then, all of a sudden, her body collapsed like a broken string, and she never rose again.

Given her already fragile state, her demise could be considered a foregone conclusion in some sense.

Just like that, ‘It’ lost any chance of receiving anything other than hatred and curses from the mother who gave birth to her.

The father figures—goblins—consumed her corpse without hesitation, confirming that she was dead. However, they did not offer ‘It’, the one born from her, a share of her flesh.

‘It’ grew quickly, much faster than any human ever could.

And it soon realized that it was different from the others of its kind.

Its kin were extraordinarily dull-witted.

For them, solving even the simplest problems required tremendous effort. Tasks that ‘It’ could handle with ease were beyond their capabilities.

In terms of both intelligence and physical ability, ‘It’ stood out remarkably.

Although its mother was human, it wasn’t the only one of its kind born within that dark cavern. Quite a few others had been born in a similar process.

It was the result of the goblins’ raid on a village of outcasts who had fled exploitation by a lord.

Yet among the brothers born through similar circumstances, none possessed abilities equal to ‘It’s.

‘It’ realized that it was a distinct and unique existence.

With both superior strength and intelligence, ‘It’ quickly became the leader of the pack.

Even the creatures that could potentially be its fathers among the group willingly bowed their heads before it.

Like a destined mission, ‘It’ began to grow and expand its group.

The first thing it changed was how they managed food consumption.

Previously, each goblin would hunt and consume food haphazardly. Now, under its orders, ‘It’ implemented a system where food was stored in a single location and redistributed as needed.

Moreover, it was no longer acceptable to gorge on food until it was depleted before heading out to hunt for more. Even when food was abundant, the group was instructed to continually bring in supplies.

With the establishment of a stable and efficient food supply and distribution system, the population of the group began to swell even faster.

The next big change was in their use of tools.

They had previously only scavenged clothing and equipment from fallen prey, without any effort to craft their own.

While technical limitations were part of the problem, the truth was that such endeavors were considered too troublesome for the goblins.

The lazy and impulsive creatures preferred whatever was convenient.

However, ‘It’ enforced the use of tools and commanded the crafting of crude replicas.

Although they couldn’t compare with the quality of human-made tools, even rudimentary weapons fashioned from stones, wood, and leather were far superior to mere rocks.

The final change was in hunting methods.

Before, they simply mobbed everything they could eat and attacked prey with brute force.

Occasionally, they might try sneaking or ambushing, but these tactics were more out of mischief or malice than a calculated strategy.

Changing the hunting method was not an easy task even for ‘It’— it understood food sources from observations and copied human tools, but creating strategy alone was beyond its capabilities.

So ‘It’ decided to observe humans.

Selecting physically weaker or lazier goblins from its growing numbers, ‘It’ sent them to raid a human settlement.

The first attempt was surprisingly easy.

The human settlement was easily overtaken, and about dozens of humans became both prisoners and food reserves of the goblin horde.

Though initially dissatisfied with the results of humans fighting collectively, ‘It’ soon refocused on examining the captured humans.

Their ankle tendons were severed to restrict movement, and food was provided to keep them alive for extended periods.

Within confined spaces, with nothing left to do but eat, the humans engaged in fervent conversations among themselves.

This was the only way they could maintain their sanity under such trying circumstances.

Though the other goblins failed to understand the human language, ‘It’ did not.

Patiently, like tasting something for the first time, ‘It’ absorbed the exchanges and gradually began to comprehend human speech.

The continuous voices from dozens of captives provided a wealth of learning material.

“Let’s not give up.”

“Help will come someday.”

“Let’s plan an escape.”

“Do you think we can snatch their weapons?”

“It’ll be alright, kids.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

“Damn bastards! If you’re giving us meat, cook it first!”

“What’s with that large goblin?”

“He’s always watching us. It creeps me out.”

‘Its’ consciousness expanded as it learned humans referred to them as “goblins.” It also learned that the humans considered goblins quite inferior.

Had they truly thought it incapable of understanding their language even after observing it repeatedly?

After achieving a decent understanding of human language, albeit imperfectly, ‘It’ was filled with curiosity.

What would the humans think if a creature they deemed inferior spoke their language?

‘It’ began to speak.

“Humans, how does it feel to live in my domain?”

As expected, the humans were overwhelmed with shock.

Mouths wide open, eyes wide, their bodies trembling with fear.

Among them, the most intriguing reaction came from a human who immediately knelt down and bowed.

“Forgive me, great Lord of the Goblins! I have never, ever insulted you!”

The faces of the other humans who had been cursing goblins turned deathly pale upon hearing this statement.

However, what truly caught ‘It’s attention was the title the human used to address it.

Having learned human language, ‘It’ knew that “Lord” referred to a ruler with dominion over significant territory.

Calling this place “my domain,” this human had simply taken it at face value.

Lord, Lord.

‘It’ repeated the title in its mind a few times, finding it quite fitting.

Yes, it was the ruler of the goblins and the sovereign over the lands they roamed.

‘It’, now the Goblin Lord, spoke to the kneeling human.

“Your words intrigue me. You are too valuable to be wasted as food, thus I bestow upon you the honor of following me.”

Relief washed over the human’s face, while despair clouded the expressions of the others upon hearing the word “food.”

The Goblin Lord addressed the rest of the humans.

“From now on, I will question you extensively. Those who provide satisfactory answers will become slaves, while the rest shall be food.”

The humans were shocked, and some showed anger and hostility.

But when the Goblin Lord casually crushed the skull of a rebellious human three times in succession, no one dared to defy anymore.

The humans knew more than he had anticipated.

Through the knowledge of hunters, the Goblin Lord learned more efficient hunting methods.

Through the knowledge of leatherworkers, it improved the processing of leather.

Some humans, fearing the worse fate of being consumed, trembled as they imagined the consequences of their knowledge falling into goblin hands.

Yet it was better than a miserable death.

As promised, the Goblin Lord did not make the humans food.

Furthermore, those slaves who could directly produce useful items for the goblins received preferential treatment.

The Goblin Lord was satisfied.

With this knowledge and new slaves, it understood its tribe—or his kingdom—would become even stronger.

The Goblin Lord was dissatisfied.

The knowledge of metalworking, training soldiers, writing, wielding swords, and manipulating magic—existence of which the humans spoke of—were far beyond its grasp.

The village it had attacked was one of the most minor and weakest among the human settlements sprawling across the continent.

The knowledge and skills of its residents were limited due to this.

If only it could raid something far greater, much more valuable.

If it could conquer that place, subjugate the humans, and absorb their knowledge—

His race would become even greater.

The Goblin Lord felt an ardent ambition swelling within him.