The ugly granny goblin squinted at me with a mixture of curiosity and irritation.
"Who are you?" she croaked, her voice sounding like gravel being ground together.
I flinched, partly at her tone, partly because I didn’t want to answer someone who looked like she crawled out of a nightmare.
Instead of speaking, I activated my identification on her.
[Flogga - Goblin Alchemist - Level 2]
Oh, an alchemist and she was on the same level as Zzok.
I gave her another once-over.
Regret hit me like a hobgoblin’s.
My eyes burned, and I immediately wanted to gouge them out.
The sagging skin, uneven features, and those horrifying, saggy boobs... Why was she built ?
Her gaze stayed locked on me, scrutinizing me like I was some kind of rare herb she wanted to grind into a paste.
"Say something, boy," she barked, clearly annoyed by my silence.
I was about to offer a witty reply when her eyes darted to my shoulder.
Her expression shifted instantly.
Shock. Recognition. Reverence.
She stepped back, her mouth opening slightly as though she’d seen something divine.
"You..." she whispered, pointing at the tattoo on my arm.
Her gaze flicked back and forth between my face and the tattoo like she was watching the world’s slowest tennis match.
Finally, she broke her silence, stepping closer.
Her crooked finger pointed at me like I owed her money.
"Are you a Totem?" she demanded, her voice dripping with awe and a hint of suspicion.
Again with the totem nonsense.
I shook my head, flashing a casual grin.
"Nope. I’m Eli. Just a guy from another world. Nice to meet you."
I raised a hand in a friendly wave, aiming it at the sexy female goblin in the group, trying to seem approachable. Maybe even cool.
For one glorious moment, I thought I’d made a connection.
Then, she frowned and turned away.
I froze, the smile still plastered on my face.
Did... did I just get rejected by a goblin?
Without her even saying a word?
The sting hit harder than I expected. This world was cruel.
Too cruel for a 16-year-old.
I tilted my head back dramatically.
"Take me home, Gandalf," I muttered under my breath.
But, of course, no one answered.
Zzok then stepped forward, his earlier grief buried under a mask of steely resolve.
Any trace of tears had been wiped from his face, replaced by the stern determination of a warrior who refused to break.
I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of respect for him. The guy was strong—not just physically, but mentally. And my opinion of him climbed another notch.
"What happened?" Zzok asked Flogga, his voice sharp and urgent. "Is Chief alive?"
Flogga shook her head, her expression grim.
"No... unfortunately, they all died. Chief fought bravely but couldn’t win. I hid with Zahra when the attack started. It’s the only reason we survived."
She paused, her gaze dropping.
"Now, things are bad. Very bad. The graveyard has been destroyed too. Things more dangerous. We can’t stay here. There’s also a possibility hobgoblins might return as well."
"Graveyard?" I muttered under my breath.
What was so special about a graveyard that its destruction made things worse?
Zzok clicked his teeth, clearly displeased by the news.
His fists clenched at his sides, but he didn’t lose his composure.
"We will rebuild," he declared firmly, his voice resolute. "We must find a safe place. Gather strength. For the clan!"
His words stirred the other goblins.
Meanwhile, I stood there, still hung up on the mention of the graveyard.
Do goblins come back to life through this graveyard? Like an undead or something?
"Gandalf!" I called out.
Predictably, there was silence.
Seriously, I need to quit doing that.
It’s not like Gandalf is going to swoop in and save me. Especially when I’ve got a goblin right here who probably knows everything I need to know.
I turned toward Thok, the grunt.
He had a knack for staying out of the spotlight but seemed to have figured out his role in this moment.
Before I could even ask, he stepped up and explained, his voice steady and clear:
"Graveyard resurrect goblins when they die. No graveyard... die forever."
Simple. Concise. Chilling.
I nodded slowly, letting the words sink in.
No graveyard, no second chances.
Death was permanent for them now.
But I didn’t intend on finding out.
Dying for any reason at all sounded dumb.
Who knows what will happen when I die again?
Maybe I’ll be reincarnated as mice in another world this time..
This information gave me a whole new perspective on why these goblins were devastated.
Losing the graveyard wasn’t just a blow to morale; it was the end of their safety net.
Their immortality, if you could call it that, was gone.
I had to admit—Thok had nailed the delivery.
Feeling the need to acknowledge his effort, I raised my hand for a high five.
He just stared at it.
And left me hanging. Piece of shit.
I coughed awkwardly, slowly lowering my hand.
Hope no one saw that.
My face felt warm—definitely not embarrassed, just... annoyed.
Yeah, let’s go with that.
One of the goblins, clearly not as cool under pressure as Thok, broke the silence.
"What we do now?" he asked, his voice trembling. "No chief to protect us. And if we die... we die forever!"
That last sentence was the spark to ignite full-blown panic.
The goblins started murmuring, their voices rising with fear and desperation. Some began pacing. Others clutched their weapons tighter as if the universe itself was about to drop an anvil on their heads.
Meanwhile, the older goblin, Flogga, stood apart, her expression contemplative.
Her eyes flicked toward me every few moments, studying me like I was some sort of puzzle she was trying to solve.
Please stop staring at me like that.
Finally, she cleared her throat, loud enough to cut through the noise.
And all eyes turned to her as she spoke, her tone calm but commanding.
"How about we choose a new chief to lead us?"