The next thing Kai knew, a week had slipped by like a dream. The goblin settlement no longer huddled in their cave. They had left it behind, though not abandoned—it remained a nursery, the cradle for their youngest, just as it had been for countless generations. The place echoed with newborn cries, a sound the stone seemed to drink in greedily, as though the cave itself were taking part in the goblins' lives.
Goblins lived short, bright lives, flickering candles against the vast backdrop of the Old Realm. Thirty years was considered ancient. The oldest in this village, a bent elder of twenty-seven, leaned on his cane as though each step might break him in two. But children came often, small sparks to replace fading flames. At present, eight newborns wriggled and squealed in the nursery cave. To Kai's surprise, they were utterly helpless for at least two months—fragile, dependent. He had assumed goblins would leap from the womb ready to claw and bite, miniature warriors from the start. Instead, they needed long stretches of care, more delicate than human infants.
From their stories, Kai learned goblin lore. They said caves remembered. Every birth-cry, every death-rattle left a mark in the stone, and the rock whispered it back to future generations. A goblin born in a cave was tied to it, bound by memory, and when they died the stone reclaimed them. They believed their short lives were part of this pact with the earth: the ground gave them form swiftly, but reclaimed them swiftly too. Yet endurance was their strength. Goblins might die early, but as a people, they endured famine, fire, exile, and the endless hatred of men.
Kai sat by the fire one night, listening as the elder explained it. His cane tapped the dirt with every word. "We die young, human. That is truth. But goblins endure. Stone keeps us."
Kai stared into the flames. "Enduring is good. But there's more than enduring. You could live—not just survive."
The goblins shifted nervously, murmuring to each other. Words like impossible and child's dream passed around the circle. Kai's jaw tightened. "Impossible doesn't mean wrong. It just means no one's tried yet."
---
As Kai explored their world, other truths startled him. Bees, the familiar pollinators of Earth, did not exist here. Instead, fairies took their place. Tiny winged beings darted between blossoms, laughing and shrieking as they spread pollen from flower to flower. Mischievous and proud, they called the work sacred duty, though Kai noticed how often they stole nectar for their own feasts. Honey, as Kai knew it, didn't exist in the Old Realm. Sweetness came from fruit and fairy games.
Cooking appliances and plumbing were unheard of. Fire, stone, and clay served every need. Electricity—something so basic back on Earth—was spoken of as "magic," indistinguishable from sorcery. The Old Realm was raw, underdeveloped, still taking its first steps toward what Kai considered civilization.
So he began to bridge the gap.
Fields of wild wheat grew near Valic Ville, ignored by humans and goblins alike. To the goblins, it was tall grass, good for bedding at most. With equivalent exchange, Kai ground the grain into flour before their eyes. The goblins gasped, staring as though he'd turned stone to gold.
"This is food," Kai told them. "With this, you can make bread."
They blinked at him, baffled, unable to imagine the leap from grass to sustenance. But their awe carried a current of hunger, a realization that the world around them held treasures they'd never seen.
---
The goblin village itself was coming alive, shaky but determined. Their ragged wooden tower stood crooked against the treeline, patched with uneven planks and tied with rope spun from twisted bark. It wasn't much, but pride radiated from their faces every time they pointed to it.
Much of their progress hinged on Kai. Where their crude hands faltered, his tattoos glowed faintly with resonance, shaping tools they had never dreamed of. He pressed his palm to stone, pulling the substance into form: nails sharp enough to bite wood, stone saws heavy and jagged but functional. Goblins took them eagerly, slicing lumber instead of hacking clumsily. Every strike of stone nails into timber echoed like a drumbeat of progress.
Then came water. With equivalent exchange, Kai carved open a well in the heart of their camp. Fresh crystal water bubbled up, and the goblins fell to their knees in disbelief, splashing their faces, gulping greedily.
But Kai stopped them before they poisoned themselves. He crouched by the fire, showing them how to hold clay pots over flames until the water bubbled.
"Why boil?" one goblin demanded, scowling. "Water clean already."
Kai drew a circle in the dirt with a stick. "Because there are things inside water—things too small for you to see. Tiny invaders. Some help you, but others crawl into your body and make you sick. Fire burns them away."
The goblins stared as if he had spoken of spirits hiding in every droplet. Misk leaned forward, voice hushed. "So… fire saves?"
"Fire saves," Kai confirmed.
The elder grunted. "Strange wisdom. But we learn."
---
On the fifth day, Kai rested in the nursery cave, stretched out on his Nimbus Cloud above the newborns. His eyes drifted shut, but his teaching did not stop.
In their dreams, the infants gathered around him, dream-versions of themselves toddling unsteadily but curious. Kai conjured glowing letters in the air. "This is A. Ah. Repeat it."
They babbled nonsense, but their tiny hands reached for the shape, clutching and gnawing at it like toys.
"Good," Kai said softly. "Now B. Buh. Like this." A glowing bee buzzed around the letter, wings shimmering. "Not real here, but real where I come from. Someday I'll show you."
One child clapped. Another tried to eat the bee. Kai chuckled.
"C. D. E. These are the building blocks of words. Words are memory. Memory is strength." His voice grew tender. "You may not understand now, but you will. I'm planting something in you. Something that will grow when you are ready."
The elder, watching from below, muttered to himself. "Strange human. But maybe good strange."
Kai didn't hear. He was lost in nurturing dreams, seeding the future of a people who had none.
---
By the end of the week, the goblin camp no longer looked like a scatter of wanderers. It had rhythm. Logs piled in neat stacks. The crooked tower stood tall. Fire pits smoked, clay pots bubbled. Goblins practiced cutting wood properly, hammering nails, sawing planks. The air buzzed with work and laughter.
When Kai walked among them, they swarmed him with questions, tugging his sleeves, shouting their successes like children showing off treasures. He wasn't a great teacher—he knew that—but their eagerness made up for his fumbling.
That night, with firelight flickering, Kai gathered them. Every goblin sat, even the newborns quiet in the nursery cave.
"You've learned much," Kai said, his voice carrying. "You boil water now. You cut wood with tools, not your bare hands. You build homes that will last longer than the rain. These are the first steps."
Misk grinned. "We strong now. We learn."
Kai's tone hardened. "Strong, but not strong enough. I want you to hear me. I want more for you. More than this camp. More than hiding. I want to create a nation. A place where goblins, humans, and others can live without fear."
The goblins gasped. Murmurs rippled through the circle. "Nation?" "Too big." "Humans kill goblins."
Kai raised a hand. "I know humans have hunted you. I know you're afraid. But my nation will be different. Your children will grow with food, with safety. You will mean more than just prey hiding in caves."
The elder's cane struck the dirt. "Why think humans change? They hate us."
Kai's eyes burned. "Because I'll make them change. And if they resist, I'll protect you from them."
A small goblin girl tugged his coat. "Can we dream… of being friends with humans?"
Kai's chest tightened. He knelt, smiling gently. "Yes. That's a dream worth holding on to. Worth fighting for."
The goblins sat silent, faces caught between fear and fragile hope.
Kai stood, laying a hand on Misk's shoulder. "To prove it, tomorrow I'll take Misk with me into Valic Ville. You'll see that not all humans are monsters. They are cautious, but they can learn—just like you."
The goblins erupted. Some cried out in fear. "Too dangerous!" "They'll kill him!"
Misk swallowed, but lifted his chin. "If Kai protects… I go."
The elder's glare was hard. "If you lie, if you betray… stone will remember."
Kai met his gaze without flinching. "I won't."
Kai had mastered his gaze, learning to stare at the forehead. His ability only activated when he looked at their eyes.
The fire popped. Silence settled, heavy with possibility. For the first time, goblins looked at Kai not just as a teacher, but as a leader.
Tomorrow, he would walk into Valic Ville with Misk at his side. The first step toward a dream larger than either of them could yet imagine.