A dim, flickering glow began to rise in the distance, Goodie’s time spent in the complete darkness enough that even that weak light was forcing him to squint from its brightness. Stuck as he was, Goodie could not turn to look at its source, but even from his position he could tell that it was cast from a flame and not a mage light, the glow too warm and colourful to have been cast by magic alone.

Her Majesty went to look without him needing to ask, her mental attributes still high enough to know what was what despite her previous injury. What he saw through their shared link had him stunned, the source of the light not being from whom he had half expected to see.

He was both pissed off and weirdly comforted in the discovery that the light did belong to the idiots that had dragged him into this whole mess in the first place, that his view of the world…worlds was once again proven correct, the arseholes more than likely having given him up for dead and gone on to find their treasure or whatever. Pricks, one and all.

The source had not come from his old ‘teammates’, nor had it come from any human at all, adventurer or local.

The dull glow of an open flame came, in fact, from something decidedly not human.

Specifically, ‘Not Kobolds’.

‘Not’ because the Earthers who had come before had been less than scientific when naming things, usually just slapping on whatever seemed appropriate at the time. Whether it was due to lack of imagination or just plain laziness, Goodie did not know, but the people who came before him had relied heavily on drawing from Earth's collection of fantasy when searching for inspiration for said names. Goblins, Kobolds, the usual clichéd classics. Not a problem in and of itself, but with the lack of organisation and people's general unwillingness to share information for fear of giving away something valuable, no effort had been made to properly categorise and standardise anything, inevitably resulting in multiple species receiving the same name and the odd species receiving multiple names.

Though he had never seen them himself, there were apparently over a dozen species of 'goblins', few of which were related to each other and only three of which were even green.

Real Kobolds, and by real he meant the made-up version from Earth, were supposed to be a dog-headed, reptile-looking, warm-blooded creature that had descended from Dragons.

While the creatures shown to him by Her Majesty certainly looked the part, there were no dragons in this world.

And people had looked!

While he was certainly glad of the absence of fantasy's iconic flying tank, others were not, searching high and low for signs of anything even remotely resembling the beasts. Them and unicorns. Something about the creatures just drove people nuts.

Even after centuries of hopefuls scouring through local mythology, they had failed to turn up any reference to the existence of such creatures, with any discussion drawn short as whatever reverence that people from Earth may have had for the beasts was not shared by the locals, with them often outright scoffing at the first mention of the subject in the best of circumstances. In the worst, the locals had actually come to blows thinking that they were being mocked, the notion of the dragon too absurd to be something that any sane person would believe in.

So, the creatures were not Kobolds.

But they sure did look like them.

The creatures were far from cute as they would have been drawn in any comic or manga, instead looking as real as any life form from earth.

Now, Her Majesty’s sight was…different, thanks to a combination of her being both a snake and a shadow demon, but the visions she was sharing with him was of a…people with scale-covered hides in a variety of colours, their heads both dog-like and reptilian, their canine-like teeth sharp and many, their snake-like eyes centred by a slit iris, often green or gold from what he could guess. Behind each of them, barring the injured, was a tail of a length that was appropriate for their height, not short and stubby to make them cartoonish, nor was it overly long so that it could wrap around things as was the cliché with most things with a prehensile tail. They were all just so…real.

It may have been presumptuous on his part to apply gender to an unknown species, but the ones he thought of as male were stockier in build, almost squarish in shape, their necks short, their snouts wider, with their arms and legs bulging with over-developed muscle. The females, however, were taller, thinner, sleeker, and no doubt far more agile than their more brutish counterparts. The colouring of their scales seemed to be more vivid too, but with him having to rely on Her Majesty’s sight, that impression could have been the result of anything, from variations in their scent to their taste even.

Their tribe as a whole seemed to be divided into three segments. A forward guard protecting from the front, a rearguard to cover said rear, with the non-fighters keeping to the middle, no doubt to offer the best protection to the weaker of the tribe.

Watching the middle group march along, the few children present running about, worming their way between the adults as they chased each other fascinated him. It filled him with a feeling he could not describe or explain. A feeling he was not sure he had ever experienced before.

Goodies overblown sense of fear and paranoia were blaring like they usually did whenever he encountered anything potentially, but for once, he actively ignored them, his attention fully preoccupied with the wonder of seeing a sapient, non-human species.

From the few people that he had talked to in his time in this world, those who had already arrived as well as the few newbies who had come after him, he had discovered something that completely separated him from the rest of the people from earth.

He, unlike the rest of the Earther community, had no liking for magic.

Sure, he enjoyed fantasy…movies, comics, etc., entertainment that could pass the time, but he had always seen it as fake, a false hope for people trying to escape their shitty lives. Which was why he had always been a sci-fi guy.

Yes, there was some strong crossover between science-fiction and fantasy, but even in the most outrageous science-fiction, there was still the promise of possibility, the potential for whatever fancy tech they used to justify the story to become reality. That the science fiction of today could be the science-fact of tomorrow.

Now, he did understand that, in this world, magic was real and that he would have to adapt his way of thinking, but even after a year of living with it, he still found it lacking. Sure, it would be a lie to say that he was unaffected by the novelty of it, but still, it did little for him beyond that momentary interest.

His view of actual magic as it was presented to him by the system was that it was nothing more than an invisible prison and a possible trap, not much different than money was on earth, which meant that he could never truly view it in any kind light and that anything related to it just would not float his boat.

But the scale-covered creat…people within sight did. A, for him, first encounter that filled him with awe as he watched them…just being them. Walking, talking, being alive.

Another intelligent species.

A non-human species.

The sight was just…wonderful.

Averaging about a metre in size for the adults, with the smaller children measuring about half that, all dressed in crude skin outfits. The skin bore too strong a resemblance to the creatures of the underground to not have come from them, the bone tools and weapons being wielded by the Kobolds more than likely being hewn from the bones.

Goodie’s wonder, was, unfortunately, short-lived, however. His cowardice and the obvious threat of a species that clearly had both the intelligence and the skill to craft tools was a species that would have little problem with figuring out how to climb up to get him, overrode whatever everything else. Knowing the generic response of other Earthers towards all other life was to go on a psychotic rampage whenever they thought that they could get away with it, the creatures down below would more than likely be hostile if they discovered him, and no matter how awed he was by their presence, his life came first. Always.

He would have to deal with them.

But how?

He was still stuck, impaled on these fucking stalagamathingies. His attempt to push himself off of them by using his shadow stuff to create what was essentially a giant water balloon beneath him seemed to have been doing the trick, but raising himself was a slow…and painful process. So very fucking painful. And he still had about a foot to go before he would be free and clear of the stone spears that had turned him into living pincushion, with the cost of keeping the balloon beneath him from dissolving not being cheap.

The light! If he could that light nearer it would help cut the cost of maintaining his creation!

Shadow stuff, contrary to what one would expect, was weakened by darkness, not made stronger. Had he been in the sun, he would have been able to maintain three such balloons…hell, he could have had a whole jumping castle as long as it was only for him alone.

Even with Her Majesty sticking to the shadows to avoid being seen, the little light that was reaching her was doing wonders for her mood, having cycling between rage and depression ever since she had half her body blasted away, and half her attributes with it, by those morons that had dragged them down here.

But a discount would not help him in dealing with what he assumed was a tribe…clan of Kobolds. Through their shared link, Her Majesty sent memories of her gaining the attention of some mutated rabbits and luring them back towards the group of idiots. It was how he and she had slowed their descent into the underground, with the intent of wearing down their morale and buying Goodie enough time to try and find a way to escape.

Things had not worked out as intended, but the plan was a good one.

But he could not…no, he would not do it, not until he had to. He did not know how tough the Kobolds were and a sudden attack from a mutated beast could cause untold damage. They had kids for fuck’s sake.

He was not going to be another arsehole from Earth, raping and pillaging for shits and giggles. Not that there were many of those here, with the few exceptions not living long, but still he did not want to be one of ‘them’.

No…no, he would wait and see how things worked out.

The tribe, if it was indeed that, was not exactly rushing towards him, the direction they were taking looking as if it might even pass around him entirely.

Hopefully, that would be the case and they could all go on their merry way.

But he would have to be extremely careful from here on out. His efforts to push himself up were painful, and while he tried to keep as silent as possible, even the smallest of his groans felt like a gunshot within the spacious cavern. The noise coming from the Kobolds themselves might serve to mask any sound that he made, but it was still a risk.

Then there was the smell. Without knowing how adept they were with tracking by scent, it was a coin toss as to whether or not they could detect him. Again, hopefully, the smell of their own tribe as well as that of the dead bodies around him would serve to mask his presence.

But that was all a lot of hope to be hoping for and he was not keen to trust his fate to luck.

He asked Her Majesty to go around behind them, get their numbers, positions, and best direction to attack from. He doubted that Her Majesty could take them as easily as she could the beasts of the underground. The Kobolds were clearly more intelligent, which meant that if anything happened, they could learn from it and adapt.

Then there was also the effectiveness of Her Majesty’s attack. He had been overly cautious in pitting her against the beasts of the underground and had missed who knows how many opportunities to escape, but these people were a different species altogether and might have been resistant, if not outright immune, to becoming inebriated. And if not, from the looks of their equipment, it looked as if some might have been carrying some type of powder. Medicine? Magic or mundane, who know what they could do with that?

Or it could have just been some type of makeup. Her majesty noticed a few of the less bulky Kobolds had markings on various parts of their bodies. Whether a form of fashion or an indication of rank, he could not tell.

Shit! He hated not knowing anything!

What to do, what to do?

He was trying to think of anything to avoid what was probably going to happen anyway, but he was too hungry and too tired to really focus and that light, however weak, was doing a number on his now overly sensitive eyes, already feeling a migraine coming on.

He did not want to be a prick, but he did not see a way for him to get out of this situation without turning into a bigger prick than the one who had tossed him down here in the first place.

That was the question, to be a psycho prick and alive or a moral fool and dead?

What the fuck was he going to do?

Not knowing the answer, he opted for what he always had done, wait and hope things changed. They always did, though rarely in his favour.