The sun rose in the distance, and Byung was tired; he could feel the strain in his back.

Poggle was proving to be a valuable partner because he had contributed positively since they met.

The mines were doing well, which meant the goblins were allowed to take it easy.

They no longer had to exert the same effort they once did with stone-made tools.

This allowed them to work on other projects, and the first thing Byung wanted was new infrastructure.

The buildings were in shambles, and he had no idea why they hadn't been fixed until now.

They cut down trees, and the entire process began, but Byung found himself missing Maui.

She had reliable shoulders he could sit on—his feet never touched the ground when she carried him.

Borkle was with him, but Borkle's demeanor had changed; it was as if he had accepted Byung as a superior.

He no longer spoke down to him nor addressed him the same way as when they first met.

Byung wanted the best for them, which meant there was no reason not to support him, especially since they lacked the knowledge he seemed to have.

The place was beginning to look more like a community now that the goblins had free time.

Byung knew they would need a system that could sustain them should something happen to the mines or if demand for their resources lessened.

They needed an economic structure that could help them survive such scenarios.

They had little to no use for the coins they earned because what they could buy was limited.

Byung knew things had to change and was determined to build everything from the ground up.

He had hated being born a goblin at first, but now he could see the endless potential around him.

Gribnox finally stepped out of his comfort zone for the first time in days.

And just as he expected, the goblins were already working on something new.

A satisfied smile spread across his face—he was beginning to see that Byung might be the one they needed to move this place forward.

Murkfang had disappeared, and no one knew where he was, leaving them vulnerable to many things.

Gribnox was terrible at communication but excellent at supporting a capable leader.

The goblins had accepted him as well, which reduced the chances of them rejecting Byung.

But he noticed Maui wasn't with Byung today. There was no reason for them to be apart, so where was she?

"Borkle! Come here," Gribnox shouted, drawing Byung's attention as well.

"I wonder what he wants…" Byung thought to himself.

He began to wonder how many races existed in this world. So far, he knew about goblins, elves, humans, and orcs.

This was clearly a fantasy-based world, so there was no telling what other creatures lived here.

After all, the goblins only knew about the races who came to trade or deal with them.

But surely, not everyone would need their resources… would they?

Byung didn't even know if magic existed, but if it did, mining would be pointless.

After all, magic could do anything. But that dream he had—there was something strange about the sword the goblin buried into the ground.

It felt like the sword of Arthur, Excalibur. Byung wouldn't be surprised if it was out there in plain sight, sticking out of the ground.

"Only the worthy would be able to lift it," Byung thought to himself with a silly smile.

"What smiling for?" Poggle questioned, to which Byung's face immediately straightened.

"Nothing," he responded with a straight face, but Poggle could tell he was full of it.

"I want… to… laugh too," Poggle said slowly, and Byung was impressed he remembered their little lessons from last night.

"Wow! You're learning fast," Byung praised, genuinely impressed.

"Thank!" Poggle replied with a bright smile.

"Thank you…" Byung corrected, though he knew it was another thing that would take time to change.

"Thank… you," Poggle repeated. The tone and flow were off, but Byung knew it was only a matter of time before he got it right.

"Say, how many races are here?" Byung asked—the question that had been at the back of his mind.

Poggle was much older than him, so Byung figured he should know.

He had already shown interest in learning language, so it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say he was curious about this too.

Byung knew they had to teach the goblins in the mine to speak properly as well.

There was so much to do and so little time, because the inevitable was going to happen.

Byung noticed the bully from before working nearby and gestured for him to come over.

Poggle was confused as to why Byung would call him over, considering they didn't get along.

The goblin approached without protest, and Byung realized he had no idea what his name was, even though the naming ceremony had already been done.

"Hello," the goblin greeted before glancing at Poggle. Poggle noticed he still had that look in his eyes.

"What is your name?" Byung asked, and the goblin shifted his gaze back toward him.

"Name Sneegle," Sneegle replied, and once again, Byung chuckled under his breath, prompting both goblins to raise their brows.

They had no idea their names sounded like something you'd give a dog.

"What funny?" Sneegle asked. That alone made Byung glad he already had a name.

"What… is… funny?" Poggle corrected him slowly.

Sneegle looked at him like he had just committed the ultimate sin, then jerked his head toward Byung as if to confirm he wasn't the only one who'd heard it.

But Byung was still lost in his thoughts, trying his best not to laugh.

"Sneegl—!" Before Poggle could finish saying his name, Byung burst out laughing.

He laughed like a child who had just heard the funniest joke in the world. It was a rare moment that showed a glimpse of his inner child—something his disability had taken from him long ago.

The way he suddenly switched back to a poker face right after made the situation even more awkward.

Sneegle and Poggle couldn't help but feel at ease with him. He was unlike anyone they had ever met.

–––

The orc, who had watched the others attack from afar, stayed hidden as his comrades were eaten alive.

Vrognut went into the tent, but he was the one who walked out, chewing on a severed limb.

He had managed to outsmart them and slaughter three orcs with ease.

This goblin was cunning, but what made him truly terrifying was how the other goblins threw away their own self-preservation whenever Vrognut demanded their sacrifice.

He stayed through the night, knowing that charging in would only put him at a disadvantage.

They thought the darkness would work in their favor, but it worked against them.

The goblins had deceived them; otherwise, they would have realized Vrognut wasn't in the tent the moment they entered. The dim lights had played against them.

It was bait, and Vrognut had one up on them. But the most terrifying part of all this was that he kept learning.

When the surviving orc returned to the village to report what had happened, he was laughed at for losing to mere goblins.

They were young and eager to prove themselves—no experienced orc would have fallen for that trap.

But despite the threat Vrognut posed, the orcs knew they could kill him if they were serious.

However, his existence served another purpose: to remind the rest of the world how dangerous goblins could be.

He was perfect for spreading that message, because each life he took increased his bounty.

The three fallen orcs were labeled failures, but their deaths only motivated others to hunt Vrognut—to earn honor and climb in rank.

They were trapped at Mudgrub (Runts), but the more Vrognut killed, the worse their race's reputation became.

This worked in the orcs' favor. When they eventually decided to slaughter every goblin in existence, no one could complain.

Vrognut didn't care. He was having fun, and the Mogul of the region did nothing to stop him.

"I see, so the three of them are dead," an orc said. He stood eight feet tall, with a round belly that gave him the physique of Buddha—but that was where the resemblance ended.

This orc was adorned with jewels made from the bones of orcs who had challenged him.

He was the strongest in the region and the Chieftain of the Bloodfang Tribe. This was Ugar Skull-Taker.

"That is right…" the orc who had fled said, the look of defeat in his eyes.

"And why did you not die with them?" the Chieftain asked, his voice cold.

The orc couldn't bring himself to answer, and the Chieftain sighed.

"If you are not going to use your hands to fight, then you have no use for them," Ugar said, and the orc panicked as another pushed his head to the floor, ready to cut off his hands.

"P-Please, Chieftain! I will go back! I will kill him!" the orc pleaded, and Ugar raised his hand, signaling for them to stop.

"You will?" Ugar asked gleefully, and the orc nodded frantically.

"That will make me happy!" Ugar exclaimed, though there was more behind his tone.

"...But I want you to take someone with you," Ugar said, and from behind him stepped a young orc—no more than fourteen years old. He was the Chieftain's son, Kraghul.

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