"Fuuuuuuck me sideways with a cactus."
Rae muttered, fists trembling.
Apparently, this wasn't some random fantasy world where goblins pranced around with magic and mushrooms.
No, sir.
This was a small, gritty kingdom pressed up against a forest so dangerous they named it the Paradise of Death—which sounded like a sex club but was really just a murder playground for monsters.
And right near that deadly forest, snug like a tick on a dragon's butt cheek, was a goblin village. Rae's goblin village.
At least, this Raedon only knows the world as this kingdom and his village.
A village full of textbook goblin behavior: stealing, kidnapping, looting, and the occasional unsolicited humping. Classic.
It was ruled by a beast of a goblin known only as the Goblin King—a monster among monsters.
Dude was taller than your average gym bro, ripped like he'd bench-pressed dragons for breakfast, and had the terrifying aura of someone who'd kill you for sneezing too loud.
Said to be at least level 50.
A walking, snarling, green-skinned enigma who made humans crap their pants just by existing.
The warriors of the kingdom and the goblins had been butting heads for years—like two drunk goats on a narrow bridge, headbutting into infinity with no clear winner.
Every few months, there'd be a skirmish, a bloody tango of blades and brawls, and then... a stalemate. Again. Rinse and repeat.
Eventually, the king of the kingdom—an overworked, underpaid monarch with a migraine the size of his crown—had enough.
"Fuck it," he declared. "Get me some goddamn heroes."
Thus, a royal decree echoed across the lands, calling for the strongest warriors, the fiercest adventurers, and basically anyone willing to swing a sword for a garbage paycheck.
The reward was... modest. Like, peasant-tier modest. So, naturally, only seven suckers—I mean, heroes—answered the call.
Among them was Alexander. Or as the sexy nurse from earlier called him: Alex.
Tall, brooding, handsome that could crush watermelons and women's hearts alike. Dude looked like he stepped out of a fantasy harem anime and straight into war.
Together, the Seven formed a squad deadlier than a tax audit. They dove into the goblin lands like a cheat code on legs, slicing through hordes with protagonist-level flair.
It was anime logic in action—flips, slow-mo, dramatic screams, and the occasional emotional flashback mid-battle.
And just like that, they won.
The Goblin King? Slain. Hundreds of goblin warriors? Wiped out like ants under a flaming boot.
Some goblins managed to scurry off into the forest like green cockroaches, but most weren't so lucky.
One of the very unlucky ones?
Raedon.
Our boy.
Captured, cuffed, and tossed into a goblin pile like expired veggies at a market sale.
Now, the king—despite being a greedy old fart—wasn't completely heartless. He couldn't just slaughter all of them.
After all, these weren't elite fighters. They were villagers. Goblin moms, goblin dads, goblin... whatever Rae was. So instead, he ordered a level check.
A magical sweep of their stats.
Any goblin with a combat level above zero?
Immediate execution.
No trial. No appeal. Just a sword to the face.
The remaining goblins—the dumb ones, the weak ones, the ones who thought "stealth" meant holding a leaf over their heads—were given a choice by the king.
Option A: Become slaves. Obey humans. Pick up poop, scrub floors, babysit crying brats, get paid in scraps and maybe—just maybe—not die.
Option B: Fight back like proud goblin warriors...and get skewered like shish kebabs.
Naturally, the village idiots chose Option A. Pride was a luxury they couldn't afford. They'd already seen their king explode like a rotted melon under a warhammer. No one wanted to be next.
And besides, running into the forest was a worse option. No one came out of the Paradise of Death.
Not even the heroes who killed the Goblin King dared step a foot inside it. That forest didn't just chew people up—it spat out bones in alphabetical order.
So yeah. The goblins surrendered.
And then came the auction.
Yep. An actual, full-blown slave auction. They lined up like weird green livestock while rich nobles and adventurers bid on them like they were collecting exotic pets.
To make sure they didn't rebel or bite off a few fingers, one of the heroes—a smug bitch with soul magic—did a little abracadabra on them.
No rebellion. No resistance. Instant docility.
It was like downloading a "Good Boy" patch straight into their souls.
The king had tried. Really, he had. Palaces, titles, golden thrones with ass-warming enchantments—you name it. But the heroes? They were surprisingly chill.
"All we want is some land, and a little coin to settle down," they said like they were ordering a beer at a tavern instead of dismantling an entire goblin regime.
So the king handed out rewards like candy at a festival—and threw in goblin slaves as a bonus gift nobody asked for.
Except Alexander.
Good ol' Alex, shining beacon of moral virtue, refused the slaves outright.
"I don't believe in slavery," he'd said. "Everyone deserves a chance."
But the king, being as subtle as a brick through a window, wouldn't shut up until he accepted one.
So Alex sighed, pointed at a random name from the slave roster like a kid choosing a Pokémon starter, and walked away.
And the unlucky, unwilling, absolutely-zero-level goblin he picked?
Raedon.
Now Rae sat on the floor of his tiny room, fists full of greasy goblin hair, sobbing into the void.
"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I don't even have basic rights here, let alone a shot at marrying some thicc human waifu! Fuck me sideways with a frying pan!"
He wailed like a man whose harem dreams had been dropkicked off a cliff.
Then, slowly... he calmed himself. Inhale. Exhale. Count to ten.
"It doesn't matter," he muttered, eyes dark with determination. "I've got a system. I've got quests. I can grind levels, get swole, earn respect... and when I'm strong enough, I can escape this hellhole."
He turned toward the door, eyes gleaming with opportunistic hunger.
The old wooden door creaked as he opened it, and immediately a harsh beam of afternoon sunlight slapped him across the face like karma with a grudge.
"Ugh!"
He hissed, shielding his eyes like a vampire.
"Yup. Midday. That means she and her mother-in-law are probably knocked out for their beauty nap."
A grin spread across his face. That wicked, goblin-creep sort of grin that screamed I am up to absolutely no good.
"Time to complete the quest."
He whispered, rubbing his green hands together like a cartoon villain with a breast milk fetish.