Goblin 2 — Goblin

About a year had passed since being reborn as a goblin.

One year in this world appeared longer than a year on Earth—approximately four hundred and a few days, it seemed.

Yet there was no convenient calendar, so precise dates remained unclear in the goblin village.

Goblins matured rapidly. By the age of one, I had reached the physical development equivalent of a human preschooler.

Appearance alone, however. The inner self had not kept pace.

I still understood only fragmented portions of goblin speech. My physical strength felt weaker than my appearance suggested.

Still, I had clearly grown faster than a human child.

A human one-year-old would still be an infant. I could walk independently.

This was a significant advantage.

Once I gained mobility, my first action was to search for other former humans in the same situation.

I do not know the cause of my death.

I do not know how I died, or why I was reincarnated.

It was precisely because I did not know that I wondered if others with similar circumstances might exist.

But that was a faint hope.

I searched indiscriminately through the goblin village for any goblin child born nearly at the same time as me, but the result was clear: there was not a single reincarnated being like me in this village.

Still, it was not entirely a wasted effort.

I never managed to speak with the young goblins, but by running through the village, I learned several things.

I learned from adult goblins that a year lasts about four hundred days.

First, goblins grow physically quickly, but their intelligence develops slowly in comparison.

Children goblins around my age are roughly the size of human kindergarteners, but their minds remain little more advanced than infants.

No goblin child could speak at all.

Among them, I am regarded as a prodigy by adult goblins—capable of speaking, even if haltingly.

Still, I feel no joy.

Goblins value combat ability above all. Intelligence is not in high demand.

Surprisingly, goblins in this world appear to be a pure combat species.

My previous understanding of goblins was that they were weak, foolish, and filthy. These goblins defy every such assumption.

Weak.

That is not entirely incorrect.

Ordinary goblins are weak and have short lifespans. They die quickly.

But only ordinary goblins.

This world has a system of levels.

There are also skills and magic, of course.

It feels like a game, but that is apparently standard here.

Once a monster reaches a certain level, it can evolve.

Goblins are no exception.

From what I’ve seen, in addition to ordinary goblins, there are larger, more robust hobgoblins in the village.

Upon evolving into a hobgoblin, their lifespan increases, and their strength improves.

Both male and female goblins must raise their levels to evolve.

The only method to increase level is by defeating other monsters.

Thus, goblins naturally become a combat-oriented species.

Without evolution, their short lifespan and inherent weakness prevent long survival.

Next, the image of stupidity.

That is not entirely inaccurate.

Goblins are combat-oriented and lack interest in scholarly pursuits.

Perhaps I am the smartest person in this village.

Perhaps. More accurately, certainly.

It is not simply a matter of low intelligence.

In combat, they employ refined military tactics. They are well-versed in efficient hunting methods.

Their intellect is not inherently poor—only deprived of opportunity to develop.

Indeed, they possess a stillness akin to enlightened ascetics. Observing them evokes a sense of sacred presence.

There exists an inviolable dignity beyond mockery.

"Dirty" carries dual meaning.

Literally unclean in body. And morally base.

My prior image of goblins was of weak fools, ignorant yet cunning in petty ways.

These goblins are the opposite.

They are warriors, bearing noble pride within.

A goblin’s day begins with prayer.

Thank the world. Thank the goddess who guards the world. Thank the world for sustenance each day.

After offering the prayer, each returns to their assigned task.

Non-evolved goblins refine themselves. Evolved hobgoblins train the next generation.

Hunting parties, strong enough to hunt, depart the village.

The village lies within a treacherous mountain range. Harsh conditions. Numerous powerful monsters inhabit the region.

Of the hunting parties that depart, only about half return.

Yet the goblin village persists. Due to high reproductive capacity.

This much matches my image.

Greet the returning goblins. Mourn the fallen.

Offer prayers of gratitude for the food they risked their lives to bring back.

Goblins depart to perilous lands to sustain the village.

Those left behind in the village hand them pressed flowers.

As talismans.

Each carries the unspoken wish: return safely.

They set out on their life-or-death journey, hearts burdened with this wish.

To live.

To sustain.

There, in that moment, was nothing of justice or injustice from my past life.

Only something beyond both.

Watching the goblins depart, I felt something rise within.

I wept without knowing why.

Something existed behind their backs—enough to make them do just that.