Smells had become far more important to me in my new life. The smell of fresh air proved the safety of a path. The smell of the goblins had helped me avoid them for a time. The smell of cooking had shown me the humans.

Now, it was the smell of blood, and it was freezing me in place.

My own marking on the wall, a pale white scratching of a dragon’s claw, lay before me. I had arrived, with the death tunnel on my right, and goblin tunnel on my left. I could barely see the marking I had made of a dragon’s claw marking my territory. That made me angry in a way that seeing the strewn bodies didn’t, though both riled my pride.

Coming to my home, killing my minions and taking my things? Whoever this was, they were in for a rude awakening. I passed the door to my lair, thankful that I had everything of real worth to my name safely in my inventory. The metal door had been blasted from the rock, my lair page was locked in response.

I felt my feet drawing me quicker and quicker to the opening of the goblin cave. I still hadn’t seen any living goblins, but red blood was covering green skin all over the tunnels. I hadn’t known the goblins long enough to remember them specifically but each death was tragic.

I breached into the quarried space properly and let out a full roar of frustration.

“Nooo! No, no, no, no! This is goddamn bullshit!”

The ramshackle village was torn asunder. It looked as though a hurricane had come through the large cavern, with gusts of air as sharp as blades. There was not a single building left standing near the entrance, the grey and brown rocks of the goblin homes splattered with red.

There were less bodies than I expected. No mistake, there were a lot of bodies, easily into the second dozen, but there were around forty goblins in this village. By my count, including the seven or so I passed between my lair and here, there were nine goblins missing. I didn’t know what to make of it, but I was glad not to see Frakko or Grannda’s face amongst the dead.

It was eerily quiet, the echoes of my roar dying slowly. The battle hadn’t finished long ago, but the assailants were already gone? I made my way closer to the centre of the village and saw no life at all. Nothing of value had been left, but there wasn’t much of value to take either.

I slowed as a neared the middle of the cavern, and therefore middle of the settlement. Most of the goblins had been… for lack of a better word, smashed. Crushed bodies were everywhere, which wouldn’t necessarily be uncommon for any creatures of this size. However as I closed towards the chief’s hut, the bodies had clearly fallen to different wounds.

I wasn’t sure what had to kill you to make your eyes burn away like that, but I couldn’t look at the hollow face of the goblin once I realised why it looked wrong. Some limbs were brutally torn away, as though clawed and torn. Others still looked almost bloated, like they’d been in a river for too long.

A detective, I was not. And the clues weren’t exactly conducive to a sensible hypothesis. Drowning, crushing, slicing and bizarre burns? Yes, your honour, the victims were killed by an elephant on fire while underwater.

I giggled at that. The giggle turned into a cackle, and before long I had to stop moving amongst the strewn appendages to double over.

I was meant to be a leader? I was meant to rule? A cruel joke, played by a capricious god. I know nothing of this place, it’s rules or it’s dangers. I’d died and been reborn, I thought, with a purpose. Instead, it looked like it was just pure chaos yet again and nothing actually had rhyme or reason. I don’t know why I expected things to be different here, but it seemed that even in a world with video game logic, there was no rulebook to be found.

My laughter had not held any form of mirth, just a sound that my body kept making unbidden. I wasn’t trying to be quiet, letting the barking, coughing laugh be my eulogy to the goblins. I’m sorry, you’re not the first people I’ve let down and you won’t be the last.

I had reached my chief’s hut without noticing that I had even been moving. It… was fine? It took me a moment to parse what I was seeing. I may even have muttered a verbal “how the everliving-” before being cut off. A flash of movement from the fur curtains that made up the door of the goblin structure. I began to activate hasten and draw a blast of intent, but let the magic peter out.

The resulting tackle could easily have been classed as assault, but I was happy to see Grannda too. I didn’t have much familiarity with… anything in this world, but the snotty goblin’s face had been one I had stared at in frozen fright for long enough to recognise. From the ground, I saw another couple of goblins poking their heads out of the hut, one of them holding what I assumed was Grannda’s baby.

“Mighty Izaark,” wailed Grannda, her emotions catching me and bringing a pain to my throat. “We’z just bin hidin’. We’z thought youse was dead.”

“Not dead, just stupid. How did you hide in there though?” I grabbed the goblin matron by her shoulders and removed her, batting down her grasping hands. No matter how you looked at it, the chief’s hut wasn’t hidden. Granted, it was in a small divot and unseen unless standing over it, but something wasn’t adding up.

“Big ol’ Frakko did the mumbo jumbo an’ made us in the dark. Put a strong roof right ova the top.”

“Frakko did… what? He cast magic?”

“Yeah, Mighty Izaark.” Grannda sniffed hard, rubbing her hand on her nose and then cleaning it on her apron. “Frakko’s always bin a bit mumbo, a bit jumbo.” She had fallen into explanation mode, and stopped balling her nose off, that answer would have to do. I was struck by how useless I had been as a “leader”. I didn’t know anything about the goblin’s capabilities, their way of fighting or defending.

“Okay, I’ll speak to him later,” I didn’t stop speaking, though Grannda seemed to want to say something about that. “More important: Who attacked you?”

The swath of emotions that blanketed the goblin’s face contorted her features until it was a clear grimace. She seemed very quickly to realise that she was the one bearing bad news, and clearly hated that fact. After another few moments of sputtering and a repeated question from myself, more forceful, she balked and finally said it.

“It wuz humies, Mighty Izaark. Humies, elvies and a dverg.” The last word, from context, meant dwarf. It was said with spittle and hate, but I felt my own fiery fury rising from the first word. I knew exactly who this group were. Murderous, carefree, wanton genociders.

I couldn’t help myself, my mana was flowing so violently inside of me that I had to let it out. It built in my stomach like a ball of magma and I let it erupt like a volcano. Red hot fury and fire filled the space before me, warping the air and covering the entire cavern in light and warmth.

“I. Am. A. Dragon.” I said, fully aware I was a kobold.

New Spell

You have learned the spell “Dragonbreath”

Cost: 150 MP

10 HP

Scorch the earth before you in a wide area.

Creatures in the area feel extra pain from the flames.

After being in awe of actually having a flame breath, I used this opportunity to see how my mana regenerated after my latest buffs and abilities. I was around three times faster in regeneration, my mana refilling over the next minute. I still felt slightly out of breath, another nine minutes before my health would be full again.

Nine minutes that I wouldn’t waste. Grannda was grovelling, I was sure she felt my outburst had in some way been aimed at her, but I didn’t find myself too bothered. I, instead, strode into my chief’s hut to get a further understanding of the situation.

A small smattering of goblins scattered. My eyes found Frakko, lying next to two other goblins on the floor. His breathing was shallow, but he bore no wounds unlike the others. It was clear that he wouldn’t be waking for a while. “What happened to him?” I jutted my chin towards the unconscious Frakko.

“Mighty Izaark,” Grannda said, when she saw no one else was answering, “Frakko spent ‘is mumbo jumbo for too long. Sent ‘is brain funny. ‘Appens to weird ones.”

“So he used too much mana and it knocked him out?” I asked to clarify. An unsure agreement from Grannda was all I’d get. Surveying the last of my minions, it left a dire situation. Four females and two males still standing, one baby being held. I had lost nearly ninety percent of my forces, such as they were, without even putting up a fight. With a cursory appraisal, none of these goblins were fighters either, which made sense. All the fighters had died.

I kept finding new things to rage about, but I was containing it now. I felt the molten slag of my fury still burning, but I was saving it for the humanoids. It had been my hope that Frakko would have been able to help me coordinate slightly, but that didn’t seem possible. Instead, I stopped being stubborn and opened my lair page.

Lair Page - Lair of Izaark (Damaged)

Upgrade

Effect

Cost

(EP)

Sleeping Quarters (Upgrade)

Transforms the boss’ sleeping quarters.

50

Iron Doors (Repair)

Repairs previously installed iron doors.

8

Storage Area

Creates a lowered area below the lair, designed to store meat and other supplies.

50

Guard Quarters

(Requires workers)

Assign workers to guard specific areas.

50

Mushroom Farm

Creates a small cave system for the cultivation of mushrooms

120

Escape Tunnel

Creates an escape route to the surface of Gaia.

100

I had expected much worse. It seemed that it would cost ten percent of the EP spent to repair the doors, and that would have been the easy choice. It would have, if not for the fact that my wanderings had been so fruitless. I had only managed to garner another four EP, having spent the better part of two days aimless and alone.

With 270 experience points, I could improve myself in no way. The next upgrades for my attributes were at least 30 EP away, and upgrading my body or strength right now would cost all of them. My level was even further away, so that was another no go.

However, what I could, and should, have done first was still possible. I chose the options, spending the required 158 points for all the upgrades I wanted. That left me short for the mushroom farm, but I had an obscene amount from my time wandering and collecting into my inventory.

Without explaining myself, I left the chief’s hut for a while and told the goblins to prepare to leave. I assured their safety, and they spread out to search - all but Grannda who had taken her child and would watch the wounded. While they busied themselves, I found what I was searching for. Destroyed in the chaos, I only needed the base anyway.

I thanked Grubznoz one last time for being such a lazy slob, and carried the palanquin’s base to the chief’s hut. I set about tearing apart the wonderful bed that I had only slept in once. The goblins had clearly figured out soap, because there was distinctly less stink upon the furs. I started throwing them onto the palanquin and then it was time for the wounded.

Using my muscles was interesting. It didn’t exactly take less effort to carry something than it would have, but I could still feel that my upper limit in that regard hadn’t been pushed. It felt good, and by standing in the right spot I could carry the wooden pallet, furs, goblins and all. I would have the remaining goblins place their collected items onto the palanquin or take them into my inventory and move them to my lair.

“Grannda, take this.” I held out the lair key for her. “We are moving to my lair, and we’ll rebuild from there.”

She took the heavy iron key with a look of amazement. Before she could begin grovelling and spraying snot everywhere again, I went to gather the goblins. Once preparations were entirely complete, about twenty five minutes after I arrived in the destroyed village, we departed.

The 5 able goblins, minus Grannda, carried one side of the palanquin and I lazily held the other. I activated strengthen for the first time when we reached the sheer climb needed to reach my lair tunnel. The power that coursed through me was enough to dig my claws through the rock slightly. Like the most intricate turtle or spider ever, I scuttled up the wall quickly.

It was lucky I had ordered the widening of this tunnel, or the palanquin would not have fit as far. We had to leave it about three minutes down the way between the lair, but that was better than nothing. When we reached the door, I gestured for Grannda to open it. I was taking the moment to feel a little like Willy Wonka, the goblins having never seen the inside of my lair would feel like they had a golden ticket right now.

Honestly, it felt a little like walking into wonderland for myself. The entire landscape of the lair had changed with the options chosen. The stream of running water hadn’t been interrupted, but instead ran even faster and wider before running off deeper into the labyrinth. At the entrance was a large barracks, easily able to fit the goblins threefold. There were now paths leading away, one down to a lower area - assumedly storage - and one leading upwards to a fine, lodge-looking building that appeared to be cut straight from the rock.

Where before had been a simple cave, now there lay a glorious living space. I was certainly impressed, and the goblins were jabbering to each other like excited birds. The goblins took over the barracks and after a glance down into the empty storage area, I turned to leave. Calling Grannda over, I told her to lock the door behind me before leaving her with my stash of mushrooms.

My inventory empty, my goblins safe and the lava flow of my anger still coursing through me, I set off after the humanoids.