I woke up with a soft click. When I opened my eyes to assess my surroundings, I realized I couldn't move my head. As a result, most information remained out of reach. Still, one fact was undeniable: regrettable as it was, my reincarnation wasn't a dream, nor some delusion caused by drunkenness.
With a bit more effort and my limited vision, I noticed a few more details. I was in the middle of a cave. There were no signs of it being handmade, so it was likely natural. The rags I had used as a blanket were terrible—stiff, filthy, and uncomfortable. The soil beneath my back pressed into me, and a pebble dug painfully into my skin, though it was hardly worth noting.
More importantly…
There were a lot of grotesque children around me, all with green skin and pointed ears. Though I was clothed, they were sleeping stark naked. About thirty were visible: twenty no bigger than human infants, the rest roughly the size of human children—probably adults among them.
Well, that was conclusive evidence of reincarnation. My own hands confirmed it. Moving them into view, I saw the same soft, pale-green skin as the baby goblins beside me. Each finger ended in a sharp black nail. If I hadn't been reincarnated, what else could explain this?
Still, I wondered if this alone was solid proof. My arms were identical to the baby goblin sleeping next to me.
Apparently, the ESP ability I'd gained from my reinforcement surgery had dropped in rank with this new body. I couldn't help but let out a brief, frustrated cry. My current form — a newborn goblin — didn't move properly at all. Today, like any other goblin child, I spent the day sleeping.
I wasn't escaping from reality. Not even a little.
I was determined to survive in my second life, yet after reincarnating, I reluctantly gave up on moving too much—there was no helping it.
From my previous life, I knew that surviving meant living dirty and adapting one's thinking on the fly. Those were indispensable skills.
Apparently, goblins grow fast. Even though it was only the third day since my birth, my body had developed rapidly.
While I had started the day with the body of a newborn, by now it resembled that of an elementary school child. Though still weaker than my former human self, compared to yesterday, my strength had skyrocketed. I could stand, even run at moderate speeds. The freedom filled me with indescribable joy. I frolicked instinctively—childish, yes—but the stress of being immobilized had been accumulating.
Naturally. Unlike humans, who grow up sheltered from predators and warfare, goblins are born into a world of constant survival. The law of the jungle forces their bodies to mature fast, outpacing humans in both speed and instinct.
Now that I could move, I spent the day testing this body's limits. I exercised until I was familiar with its capabilities, and eventually collapsed from exhaustion.
Still… this bed. Couldn't we have something better?
After reincarnating as a goblin, I went hunting for the first time. Or rather, in this world, those who don't work don't eat. Newborn goblins were restricted to chubby caterpillars for nourishment—not that I disliked them; they were unexpectedly tasty. But the supply was limited, and rationing had ended. Hunting was unavoidable, according to the goblin manager.
Hunting officially began on the fourth day after birth. It was meant to teach the strict laws of nature. Doing it alone would have been impossible, of course. So I created a "buddy" — or rather, a sacrificial pawn — named Gorina, using a mix of lies and flattery while we walked through the forest.
Goblins in this world were remarkably stupid.
Well… that made them easy to manipulate.
Oh, and yes. Goblin reproduction occurs within the race, but conception rates are abysmally low. To compensate, they resorted to kidnapping women and forcing them to breed.
Yesterday, while scavenging, I found a rusty sword at the back of the cave. While examining it, I stumbled across a room containing several women. Many were stripped down to rags, their levels supposedly higher than those of the goblins around them.
Among them was a child in an utterly cruel state. Her body had been defiled by some cloudy liquid, and her vitality weakened with every breath. She was clearly on the brink of death—a severe situation, and one that demanded attention.
It was easy to guess where they had been kidnapped from. At my current strength, I knew my limits all too well, so all I could do was clasp my hands and mutter a "Namu Amida Butsu." A mere consolation, but consolation nonetheless.
Perhaps someone there was my current mother—but that thought was far too depressing, so I left it alone for now.
Indeed, it was better to hunt in pairs than alone. Still, it was frustrating when Gorina tried to eat the prey without my permission. A quick whack with a tree branch reminded her of the hierarchy. Once she rolled over in submission, I took over dismantling the spoils.
The result of our first hunt was a small, brown rabbit with a 20 cm horn sprouting from its forehead. I decided to call it a "Horned Rabbit." The horn was sharp but too small for a human to wield effectively. Perfect for a goblin, though. It didn't slice like a blade, so piercing it like an estoc was the proper technique.
Gorun obtained Small Animal Horn!!
The moment I picked up the horn, a faint announcement echoed somewhere, though it was probably just my imagination.
Oh, right—I forgot to mention. My current name is apparently Gorun, given by the Goblin Elder when I opened my eyes for the first time.
It wasn't exactly to my tastes, but I tolerated it. I certainly had no intention of reverting to the name I had before.
In short: I gave up.
Even though I had acquired the rabbit's horn as a lethal weapon, peeling the skin off its body was still a hassle. Worse, Gorina stared at me like she'd just discovered the meaning of life while drooling, which somehow made her already ridiculous face even more grotesque. Wanting a moment of peace, I decided to split the rabbit in half and gave her a portion—let her deal with it.
I tried my best to peel the skin off my share, but it was too much trouble. So I ate the meat with the skin. Crunchy, chewy… surprisingly edible.
Weapon acquired. Fresh meat eaten. First day of "goblin life" already a smashing success. Not bad for a newborn genius trapped in a green, pointy-eared body.
The meat was delicious. Those so-called "mysterious insects" weren't terrible, but honestly? They couldn't even begin to compete with real meat. Gorina probably thought otherwise, but let her enjoy her mediocrity.