I was just your average burnout. Now I’m a kobold in a dungeon where everything wants to eat me—and frankly, I get it. I look delicious.

Reincarnated as the weakest possible monster in the worst possible place, I start with nothing but panic, backward knees, and a skill called Civilization Mimicry—which is sealed. Because of course it is.

But survival isn't the story.

This is the story of what comes after.

Of finding meaning in the scraps. Of building law from ashes. Of kindling memory in a place designed to erase.

Because even if the world sees kobolds as nothing, I’ve seen what we used to be.

And I’m going to bring it back.

Firelight by firelight. Burial by burial. One fragile tradition at a time.

Because if the world wants kobolds to be nothing?

Then I’ll teach it what nothing becomes when it learns to dream.

"It Always Starts With Someone Walking the Wrong Way."


It started with a bucket of radish guts and someone putting it in the wrong compost pile. Which wouldn't normally mean anything. People make mistakes. Buckets get heavy. Labels fall off.


But yeah, I have been here long enough to know where this is going.


So when I saw the man angle toward the "burn-off only" pit and toss half a bucket of wet vegetable mess into the ash channel, I paused.


He didn't look nervous. Didn't flinch. Just moved on like nothing had happened. Which meant he wasn't clueless. He wanted it to look normal.


I stayed behind the half-built grain cover and noted his steps. He moved like someone who'd practiced how not to draw attention.


"See something?" Embergleam asked from behind me, voice soft.


Chapter 85 - No, It's not paranoia!