Chapter 33

Ululu-ululu! Ululu-ululu! Ululu-ululu!

There are races in this world that are born as miners.
Dwarves are one such race, and gnomes—whose numbers have now drastically declined—are another.
And though not widely known, goblins are also born miners.

Though physically weak, their small bodies are well-suited for digging into the earth.
And above all, they possess the virtue of diligence.
Diligence, in other words, also means they obey well.

Goblins cannot unite. That is common knowledge.
They live scattered in tribal societies and are unable to form a proper nation.
However, historically, there have been two occasions when goblins had a king.

If one were to ask which comes first—the kingdom or the king—the answer would naturally be the kingdom.
A king cannot exist without subjects to rule.
But this does not apply to demi-human races like goblins.

Historically, there have been two individuals among goblins who evolved into “lords.”
A Goblin Lord would gather the countless goblins scattered across the continent.
And each time that happened, the continent was engulfed in flames.

In modern times, people tend to look down on goblins.
But statistically, a Goblin Lord can be born at any time.
Recognizing this potential danger, kingdoms have prepared countermeasures…

[Analysis of Demi-humans: Goblins — Author Unknown]

Clang—clang—clang!

For nearly a year now, loud noises had echoed daily beneath Elephant Rock.
This began when the Krok Tribe took control of the area.

Elephant Rock was, as its name suggested, a massive rocky peak.
Naturally, the rock extended deep into the earth.

The noise came from breaking the underground stone.

Clang—clang!

With the crude iron tools of goblins, mining was painfully slow.
Yet somehow, they had already dug quite deep.

“Dig properly, you bastards!”

A pot-bellied hobgoblin who looked well-fed swung his whip.
A goblin struck by it collapsed to the ground.
He was a goblin from another tribe, enslaved after being conquered by the Krok Tribe.

“Hey, old man. Don’t act like it hurts that much.”
“S-sorry… I’m sorry… urgh!”

The hobgoblin kicked the old goblin who was trying to get up.

“What, you’re not getting up?”
“Ugh… guh…”

Each time he tried to stand, he was kicked or whipped again.
Only after his face turned bruised and swollen did the old goblin manage to pick up his pickaxe again.

The other goblins pretended not to see and kept digging.
Fear was the easiest way to control goblins.

There was another reason they did not resist.
Digging beneath Elephant Rock was not even the lowest position.
There were those even more miserable than them.

“Huh?”

One goblin swinging a pickaxe suddenly froze.
Then he quickly raised his hand and shouted:

“We found something again!”

“What?!”

A goblin from the Krok Tribe holding a whip rushed over.
He carefully examined the area that had just been dug.

It was a trace of a structure.
Something artificial was hidden within the natural rock layers.

“It’s been a month…!”

Since excavation began under the chief’s orders, this was the fourth artificial structure they had discovered.
And the intervals between discoveries were getting shorter.
That meant they were getting closer to their destination.
Of course, only the chief seemed to know what lay below.

“Bring the prisoners!”

At that command, the goblins digging the ground brightened slightly.
They would be able to rest for a moment.

Three goblins were dragged in by hobgoblins.
All of them bore marks of having been beaten.
They were the ones who had fled after failing to ambush the warriors of the Runga Tribe by the riverside.

They trembled as they held pickaxes.
A hobgoblin pointed at one of them.

“You first. Go dig!”
“Redeka, please… spare me!”

They were not slaves, but originally warriors of the Krok Tribe.
They even had some familiarity with the hobgoblin overseeing them.
But the hobgoblin slapped the goblin clinging to him.

“If you didn’t want to become a prisoner, you should’ve died fighting!”

“A heart-eating Serpent? Spouting that nonsense to the chief got you beaten and dragged here, didn’t it?”

Defeat turned them into prisoners worse than slaves.
The goblin reluctantly approached the exposed structure with his pickaxe.
He carefully began digging.

If he stopped, brutal punishment would follow.

“If you’re lucky, you might live. If the chief is pleased.”

That faint hope forced him to keep digging.
Everyone else stepped far back.
Only the prisoner goblin remained, cautiously excavating.

About thirty minutes passed.

“Huh?”

A sound of discovery.

Then—

Ting!

At that moment, flames burst out from within.

“Aaaagh! Aaaaagh!”

The goblin holding the pickaxe was engulfed in fire.
He screamed horribly before collapsing.

Silence fell.

It was the hobgoblin who broke it.

“Next.”
“Ugh… ngh…”
“Next!”

This was how they overcame traps.
A crude but effective method—throwing prisoners and slaves into them until all traps were exhausted.
It took time and blood, but it worked.

The one who ordered all of this was the chief.
Hobgoblin King Krok.

A massive warrior, a head taller than ordinary hobgoblins, watched everything unfold.

Krok wore armor made of interwoven iron fragments.
Normally, goblin tribes shared power between the chief and the shaman.
But not Krok.
He had personally killed the High Shaman and taken the position himself.
He killed the chiefs of other tribes and strung their skulls into a necklace.

His presence was terrifying.

Yet beside him stood a young hobgoblin raising his voice without fear.

“Father!”

Even so, fear was evident in his tone.
Krok, once just a stern father, had become a tyrant.

“Please, I beg you… spare Nanaruk and her siblings.”

“….”

“I’ll do anything you want!”

Krok acted as if he hadn’t heard.
Then suddenly, he turned toward his son.

“Chandal.”

Chandal, Nanaruk’s lover, felt his breath catch.
It seemed as if flames flickered in his father’s eyes.

Suddenly, Krok grabbed his son’s face.

Crunch!

“Ghk—!”
“You anger me.”

Chandal struggled, but his father’s grip was like stone.
Krok tightened his grip and lifted him into the air.

“If you had only asked me to spare Nanaruk, I might have agreed. Protecting one’s woman is a man’s instinct. But… her siblings too?”

“Ghk…!”

“My son—!”

Krok roared with fury, as if flames would burst from his mouth.

“To make such a weak request!”

“Kill Nanaruk’s siblings yourself.”

Chandal’s eyes widened.

“If you kill those young goblins with your own hands, I will spare your woman.”
“….”

“Otherwise, you will die. And so will your woman.”

Chief Krok never spoke lightly.
He threw his son aside.

Chandal realized his fate.
Blood and saliva dripped from his ruined mouth.

Whether his son cried or not, Krok did not care.
The only thing he cared about was what they were excavating.

It must be there.

The power that would make Krok the true king of goblins—
the ruler of all goblins on the continent!

★+*

Heh.

There’s one thing I regret about becoming a Serpent.
I can’t sing.

Not that I have a hobby of singing, but even when I feel good, I can’t hum.
All I can do is flick my tongue and hiss.

In that sense, I hope my next evolution gives me a rattle on my tail.
Like a rattleSerpent.
Having an instrument attached to my tail wouldn’t be so bad.

The reason I’m in a good mood isn’t anything special.

It’s because I got to eat something delicious.

Crunch.

I bit into a bright red fruit hanging from a tree.
As I chewed, the juice burst out, filling my mouth with sweetness.
Even back when I was human, and now as a Serpent, fruit is still delicious.

Nanaruk followed my lead and took a bite as well.
Then she spat it out.

“This has poison in it. If you eat it, your stomach will hurt. Are you okay?”

Hmm, I did feel a warm sensation in my stomach—so that must be why.
But my poison resistance was already quite high. Something like this wouldn’t affect me.

“Serpents really are amazing. I wish I had been born as one too.”

Nanaruk was a goblin who actually knew a thing or two.
I was walking through the forest near the village with her.
Something like a date.

—Get a grip. There’s Bluewater Herb over there too.

Pelerian urged me on.
I tapped Nanaruk’s shoulder and pointed with my tail, and she dug up the herb.

“This one, right?”

I nodded.
They were the herbs Pelerian had indicated.
There were already quite a lot of them piled in the sack.

After hearing that Elephant Rock had been occupied by a goblin tribe called Krok, Pelerian became anxious.

—There’s no way mere goblins could break through my dungeon’s defenses. I layered multiple protective mechanisms and even prepared guardians.

That’s what he said, but he was clearly in a hurry.
No matter how thorough the defenses, time itself was a frightening force.
Those goblins might eventually break through.
And above all, it simply annoyed him.

—To dare touch what is mine…

That’s right. It made me angry too.
What was there belonged to Pelerian—and to me as well.

—Pick that lily of the valley over there too.

I tapped Nanaruk’s shoulder and had her pick the lily of the valley.

—That should be enough.

The gathering was complete.
I tapped Nanaruk’s shoulder to signal that we should head back.
Well, more like I shook my head and spun my tail around.
Somehow, Nanaruk understood.

To think there’s a goblin who understands me this well.

“You’re such a strange Serpent. Sometimes you don’t even seem like a monster—you’re more like a goblin. You even understand our language.”

I’ll take that as a compliment, Nanaruk.

We returned to the village together.

Naturally, I was the center of attention in this goblin village.
A Serpent that understands speech—anyone would find that strange.

And that same Serpent was about to do something even stranger.

“Wait a moment.”

Saying that, Nanaruk brought over a large pot.
It was the iron cauldron I had pointed at with my tail earlier that morning.

—Fill it with water.

She did as told.
Thanks to my excellent assistant Nanaruk, everything was progressing smoothly.

If you’re wondering what I was doing—

I was making a potion.

—The Great Forest has all kinds of plants. There are hardly any ingredients you can’t find.

I knew Pelerian was a mage, but he was practically a walking encyclopedia.
He even knew how to make potions.

Since we were running low on potions, we needed more if we were going to break through the goblins’ defenses and reach Pelerian’s dungeon.

—Put in the crushed Bloody Frog first. Skim off the foam.

How do you explain “skimming foam”?
I mimicked the motion as best I could.
Nanaruk immediately understood.

“Like this? You want me to skim the foam?”

…

‘I’d rather travel with Nanaruk than with Pelerian.’

—You brat!

Pelerian heard that.

—Do you even know how valuable this potion recipe is? I once sold just one and got an entire castle.

“…That valuable?”

—That valuable!

Then I should memorize it too.
Maybe one day I can sell it and get my own castle.

After boiling down a full cauldron of potion until it thickened, less than half remained.
Perhaps because they thought we were cooking something, several goblins gathered around.
Even some shamans were among them.

“What are you making?”

Nanaruk didn’t know either.
You’ll find out soon enough.

She prepared ten bamboo containers.
When we filled them with the potion, it fit perfectly.

【Adriana-style Red Potion】
Highly effective for healing wounds.
Its method of production is extremely secretive, making it a rare and valuable item.

Oh, it’s actually real.
It really does seem like a good potion.
Aside from not restoring mana, it looked better than the potion that that rookie knight Zain had.

—You’ve been fooled your whole life.

Out of the ten, I slid three toward Nanaruk.
Payment for her help.

—What a waste.

‘I worked her hard. She deserves at least this much.’

Nanaruk was grateful.

“But what is this? Do you drink it?”

She opened one of the bamboo containers and tried to drink it.
You don’t even know what it is, and you’re that fearless?

I stopped her.
It would be faster to show her.

Then I approached a goblin who had been watching.

Follow me.

“M-me?”

It was a goblin with a wound on his hand.

“Understood.”

Why is this goblin speaking politely to me?

Anyway, I wrapped my tail around the opened potion and poured it onto his wound.

Ssssss—

“W-what?!”

Steam rose from his hand, startling him.
Then he saw the wound heal and was shocked.

“I-it really is Ululu-ululu!”

He suddenly shouted that.
The surrounding goblins began murmuring.

What is this “Ululu-ululu” again?

Then one of the watching goblin shamans hurried over.
With an excited expression, she alternated her gaze between me and the pot.

“Is this… truly the Water of Life?”

It’s a potion.
It seemed goblins didn’t even have the concept of potions.

In a rather extreme move, the shaman took a knife and cut her own palm.
Then she smeared the remaining potion from the pot onto it.

Steam rose, and the wound healed.
Pelerian’s special potion was quite effective.

“Ah… so it’s true… the sacred Serpent understands our language and grants the Water of Life…”

With a pale face, the shaman muttered the name.

“Ululu-ukulu…”

Some goblins clasped their hands together and began chanting.

—Oh dear… this is…

Pelerian’s expression turned oddly sly.
I also found it amusing and wagged my tail.

“Ululu-ukulu! Mululu-ululu!”

Some goblins copied my movements and waved their hands.

This is pretty fun.