The goblin village was little more than a scattered collection of huts, hastily built from wood and bone, and half-collapsing under their own weight. Smoke curled from a central pit, not a bonfire but a slow-smoldering pile of moss. Malnourished goblins limped through the dusty paths, casting fearful glances toward the surrounding trees as if expecting the direwolves to burst out at any moment.
Jiro and Rimuru followed the goblins into the heart of the camp. Despite their humble appearance, the slimes drew stares filled with reverence and awe.
"You sure we're not overdoing it?" Jiro asked quietly.
"You mean looking like magical gods to a group of desperate villagers? Nah," Rimuru replied, amused. "Besides, we did just chase off a whole pack of direwolves."
They were led to a broken-down tent where the village chief, a hunched and trembling goblin with clouded eyes, awaited. Despite his frailty, he managed to sit up straight as they approached.
"You… are not of this world," he rasped, his voice brittle. "But you come with power… and kindness."
"We're just trying to survive," Rimuru said. "Same as you."
The chief nodded slowly. "Our tribe is weak. Many have died. The wolves take more every night. We have no warrior strong enough to protect us."
"You do now," Jiro said, stepping forward. "We'll help you. But we don't want to just fight your battles—we want to build something here."
The chief's eyes widened. "You would stay?"
"Temporarily," Rimuru said, "but if we're going to work together, we need unity. A foundation."
One of the younger goblins, the scarred one from earlier, stepped forward. "Will you… be our lords?"
Jiro blinked. "Lords?"
"You saved us. No one else ever has. If you lead us, we'll follow you."
It wasn't something he'd expected. Back in Tokyo, Jiro had been a loner. Not exactly a shut-in, but certainly not the leader type. And yet, here he was, standing in front of dozens of desperate faces—begging for guidance, for strength, for hope.
He turned to Rimuru.
"You thinking what I'm thinking?" Jiro asked.
Rimuru nodded. "Yeah. I think it's time we started something new."
They bounced up onto a flat stone and addressed the tribe together.
"We're not here to rule over you," Rimuru said. "But we will protect you. If you're willing to grow stronger, if you're willing to build a future—then we'll lead."
A hush fell over the goblins. Then, one by one, they began to kneel. A chorus of "Yes, my lord!" and "Please lead us!" filled the clearing.
Jiro felt something shift inside him. Not power—purpose. This wasn't just about surviving anymore. It was about creating a legacy.
A voice echoed in his mind—Veldora's.
So you've begun. The first step to kingdom… and chaos.
That night, Rimuru and Jiro began organizing the goblins. They hunted for food, taught basic drills, and planned defenses. Rimuru named their first task: naming the goblins themselves, imbuing them with strength through the gift of identity.
Jiro watched as their new lives began taking shape.
And in his chest, a spark ignited.
Not fear. Not hunger.
Hope.