I was dead on my feet by the time we made it back to the tribe. Without a sun or a clock to track the passing hours, I had to rely on the cooldown timer of my [Neural Archive] skill to keep time. It had been only three hours since I’d woken up and used it, yet it felt like a lifetime of struggle had passed.

  As we approached the settlement, the silence was depressing. No sentries, no lookouts, nothing. I realized my mistake immediately; I hadn’t specifically ordered them to set a guard. I was learning the hard way that until I had a core group of goblins, I could actually trust to think for themselves, I would have to explain every single detail, no matter how obvious it seemed to me.

  We dropped the spider carcasses at the base of the rock wall before starting the climb. I made a mental note: if I decided to keep this place as a permanent base, we needed a gate. Or at least a hole in the wall with a sturdy door. Constantly scaling a cliff just to get home was a waste of energy.

  Once inside the settlement, I found the tribe gathered in a tense circle near my throne. In the three hours I’d been gone, they had managed to throw together a single, pathetic-looking hut made of jagged black wood. I had no idea where they’d scavenged wood in a stone cave, but at least it was a roof over someone's head.

  As we approached, the crowd parted. Brick took a shaky step forward to meet me.

  “My King…” he stammered, his voice thick with fear.

  “What happened, Brick? I’ve only been gone a few hours,” I sighed, rubbling the bridge of my nose as a headache began to pulse behind my eyes.

  He stepped aside, and the sight behind him made my stomach drop. Three goblins were sprawled on the cold floor, covered in dark blood and grime.

  [Goblin – Lv. 1]

  [Goblin – Lv. 1]

  [Goblin – Lv. 3]

  It was the Alpha Group, or what was left of it. Trashmob had managed to hit Level 3, but they were missing a member. I swallowed my rising rage. I knew their death rate was high for a reason, but seeing my "warriors" broken so quickly was a bitter pill to swallow.

  “We found them outside the wall, King,” Brick whispered, casting a terrified glance at the wounded.

  Only Trashmob was still conscious, though he looked like he’d been dragged through a rock crusher. The other two were so mangled I didn't expect them to last the hour.

  “Morkish, can you heal them?” I asked, turning to the Shaman.

  “I do not possess a skill for healing, my liege,” he said solemnly. “However, I can brew a concoction that will help them recover their strength, provided they have the will to live.”

  I took a moment to count everybody. Eleven adults and nine runts. My eyes snagged on Morkish’s assistant, who had materialized next to him again like a silent green ghost. I ignored the little creature; I’d completely forgotten he even existed before our trek, and I had much bigger problems to solve now.

  When I had left, there were only seven runts. Now, a new one had appeared out of thin air, and that wasn't even counting the one I had just brought back from the spider tunnels.

  I sighed, rubbing my temples. I desperately needed to uncover how these goblins were actually reproducing; I couldn't just sit around and wait for them to pop into existence whenever they felt like it. It made planning for the future nearly impossible.

  I turned my attention to Trashmob. He was sitting on the dirt floor, looking up at me with a pathetic mixture of fear and embarrassment.

  “What happened?” I asked, my voice dangerously cold. “I sent you to hunt, not to come back half-dead.”

  Seeing them like this, failing their very first mission, infuriated me. They were supposed to be my vanguard, my warriors. How could they be this incompetent at the basic task of staying alive?

  “We went out... to hunt animals,” Trashmob stammered. He couldn't hold my gaze, choosing instead to stare intensely at his own blood-stained feet.

  “Out? You mean you left the cave?” I felt my blood begin to boil. “Why on earth would you go outside?”

  “To search for animals,” he whispered.

  “I’m fairly certain there are plenty of animals in these caves,” I snapped, gesturing back toward the tunnels. “I just fought a nest of spiders. Why leave the safety of the stone?”

  “But... the spiders are too strong,” he muttered.

  “And things outside the cave are weaker?”

  “Yes?” He looked up momentarily, hope flickering in his eyes. “I hunted a deer.”

  I clenched my fists so hard my knuckles turned white, but I forced myself to relax a moment later. I needed to breathe. Right now, I couldn't afford to kill this stupid goblin,I needed him, if only for his Level 3 stats.

  Sadly, his twisted logic actually made sense. Anything that could survive in these dark, damp caves had to be incredibly tough, except for the goblins. Once again, I realized this was my fault. I had to micromanage these creatures until they developed a shred of common sense. More importantly, I needed to know exactly what had slaughtered my squad. If it was a wolf or a bear, we could handle it. If it was a human, we were in deep trouble.

  Recalling Morkish’s warning, humans tended to panic if they caught a group of goblins wandering near their lands. To them, a roaming pack meant an infested nest that needed to be "cleansed."

  “Dogs attacked us,” Trashmob finally admitted. “They had a human leading them.”

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  My mouth twitched. That wasn't the worst-case scenario, but it certainly wasn't the best. A human with a pack of dogs was likely a hunter. He might just be a random woodsman who wouldn't dare enter a dark cave, but I couldn't bet my life on "might." I needed to prepare for the possibility that we had been followed.

  Trashmob remained huddled on the floor, his eyes darting toward me in expectation. I could tell he was bracing himself for a punishment—likely anticipating something brutal for losing a warrior and returning empty-handed. I didn't have the energy for a lecture yet.

  “Brick!” I shouted. The Runtmaster appeared at my side almost instantly, nearly tripping over his own feet. “Take your team and move these three into the large hut. Also, there are three spider carcasses outside the wall. Bring them to the center of the settlement.”

  Brick’s face went pale, his large ears twitching in terror. I rolled my eyes. “Relax. The spiders are already dead.”

  He let out a visible sigh of relief and scurried off. I turned my attention to the Shaman. “Morkish, go. Prepare that brew of yours and see if you can pull them back from the brink.”

  “Of course, my King.” Morkish offered a shallow bow and retreated toward his hut, his silent assistant trailing behind him like a shadow.

  “Where is Guardian?” I scanned the area, but the goblin was still frustratingly difficult to pick out from the crowd. He seemed to blend into the gray stone of the cave until he was standing right in front of me.

  “First of all, Guardian—good job on the hut,” I said, gesturing to the lopsided wooden structure.

  “I have received a Job Class, my King,” he said, a proud, toothy smile splitting his face.

  “A what? Explain,” I said, leaning in to scrutinize him.

  “When we hammered the last of the black wood into place, my team and I received a notification. It asked if I wanted to become a [Builder].”

  [Goblin Builder – Lv. 1]

  Interesting. So this world didn't just have levels and stats; it had a job system too. A pang of frustration hit me—I was supposed to be the King, yet I still had no class or specialization to speak of. I was just a Level 4 goblin with a hammer.

  “Did you gain any skills with the class?” I asked, pushing my jealousy aside.

  “Just one, my King: [Construction (E)].”

  “And what does it do? What are the benefits?”

  Guardian scratched his head, looking thoughtful. “I... I think I just know how to build better. The wood feels more 'correct' in my hands.”

  It wasn't a groundbreaking power, but it was a start. I could certainly work with a goblin who had an instinct for architecture.

  “Great. Go help the Runt team bring those spiders into the center. Once everyone is fed, we’re having a meeting.”

  Guardian turned to leave, but I raised a hand to stop him. One more thing had been bugging me. “And please, find a way to make yourself stand out. You look exactly like every other goblin in this cave. I need to be able to find you at a glance.”

  He nodded vigorously and ran off to join his team. As I watched him go, a sense of dread settled in my stomach. Giving a goblin permission to "look different" was probably a terrible idea. I was almost certain I was going to see something weird very soon.

  I leaned back against the stone throne, its cold, uneven surface feeling oddly comforting against my aching muscles. For the first time since my arrival, there was a semblance of order in the cavern. Brick’s runts were scurrying about like a line of frantic ants, hauling severed spider legs toward the center of the camp.

  Nearby, Morkish’s hut was emitting a thick, acrid purple smoke that smelled like singed hair, his "healing brew" was clearly underway. It was a relief to know the old Shaman actually knew how to start a fire; it was one less thing I’d have to teach them.

  The problems, however, were piling up. My top priority was preparing these goblins to survive for more than a few minutes on their own. The spiders were out there, lurking in the dark, and I was certain this tribe had lost more members to those eight-legged horrors than to any human hunters.

  And then there were the humans. My biggest ambition was to eventually move the settlement outside where resources were more plentiful, but we were far from ready for the sun, let alone a coordinated human attack. The only good thing at that moment was that I now had a team of [Builders]. If they could fortify this hole in the ground, we might just stand a chance.

  I was beginning to drift off when a sudden flash of color caught my eye.

  Guardian was returning from the spider pile, and he had taken my "stand out" order to heart with terrifying enthusiasm. He had hollowed out the head of a dead spider and was wearing it as a grotesque, multi-eyed helmet. To make matters worse, he had smeared a patch of bright, bioluminescent blue moss across his forehead like a glowing third eye.

  "My King," he said, bowing so low that the spider-mandibles on his head scraped the dirt. "Am I... visible enough now?"

  I stared at him for a long beat, my exhaustion momentarily replaced by a mix of pure amusement and disbelief. He looked like a nightmare had crashed into a neon sign.

  "Yes, Guardian. I don't think I’ll ever miss you again. Even if I wanted to."

  "Good," he beamed, his blue moss forehead glowing faintly in the dim light of the cave. "The spiders are in the center. We wait for the feast."

  “Did you also bring the fleshrooms we gathered?” I asked.

  He nodded vigorously, the spider-head wobbling on his scalp.

  I stood up, my knees popping with a painful crack. It was time. If I didn't set the tone now, Trashmob’s failure would become the tribe's new standard, and they would all be dead within a week. I walked toward the center of the settlement where the three spiders lay in a mangled heap. The tribe gathered in a tight circle, their eyes darting nervously between the food and my grim expression. They could tell I wasn't in a celebratory mood.

  "Listen up!" I shouted, my voice echoing off the damp cave walls.

  The settlement fell into a sudden, heavy silence. Even the runts, who had been squabbling over scraps of black wood, froze in place. I let the silence hang for a moment, making sure every eye, from the terrified newborns to the battle-worn Trashmob, was fixed on me.

  "Today, we lost a warrior," I began, my tone low and dangerous. "We lost him because we were disorganized. We lost him because some of you thought the world outside was easier than the world inside. It is not." I shot a piercing glance at Trashmob. He shrunk back, his long ears pinning against his skull. "From this moment on, this cave is our fortress, but the outside is our hunting ground. We do not go out as prey. We go out as a pack. But we are not ready. No one is allowed to leave these caves until I give the command. Is that understood?"

  A murmur of agreement rippled through the group. I turned and kicked the largest spider carcass, its hairy legs shifting with a dull thud. "Morkish! Is this meat safe to eat?"

  The Shaman emerged from his hut, shrouded in that acrid purple smoke. He held a wooden bowl filled with a steaming, translucent sludge. "The meat is bitter, my King," he rasped, his eyes gleaming. "But it provides strength. It is food."

  "Then eat," I commanded, gesturing toward the pile of spiders and fleshrooms. "But as you eat, remember this: Every goblin in this cave now has a purpose. Guardian builds. Brick raises the young. Trashmob... Trashmob learns to lead. If you fail your purpose, you don't eat. If you betray the tribe, you die. Is that clear?"

  A chorus of frantic, guttural croaks and "Yes, King!" erupted from the tribe.

  The goblins fell upon the spiders with a primal savagery that made my stomach do a slow somersault. They tore at the chitinous shells with their teeth, fighting for the softest bits of meat. As I watched the chaotic feast, a familiar flicker sparked in my peripheral vision. A blue semi-transparent window materialized before my eyes.

  DING!

  [New achievement! Leader of the Goblins!]

  Be acknowledged as the leader of the Goblins.

  [Reward: Profession: 'Goblin Chieftain' Obtained]

  I exhaled a long, shaky breath, a small, weary smile playing on my lips. It wasn’t "conquering the world" just yet, but at least the gears were finally turning. I looked down at a severed spider leg that Brick had respectfully placed at my feet. Now, if I could just survive the taste of giant insect, I might actually live to see tomorrow.