Goblar's question hit Goblinor like a slap to the face. "You're Goblinor? How'd you get so big? What'd you eat—did you chow down on the shit pile?"
He nearly choked. "I didn't eat shit. I just… grew. You full yet?"
"Nah." Goblar shook his head, eyes lingering on Goblinor's bulk.
"Then follow me. Do exactly as I say." Goblinor didn't wait for a reply—he turned on his heel, already scheming. Strength alone wouldn't keep him alive; he needed allies. Goblar, for all his idiocy, had at least tried to wake him for meals.
They trekked into the hunting grounds, Goblinor scavenging thick wooden branches. He shoved one into Goblar's hands—crude, but serviceable. "We hunt alone. No one hears about this. Not the Troll, not any goblin. Got it?"
"Got it." Goblar nodded, grip tightening on the branch. Fear of Goblinor's fist outweighed curiosity.
Soon, a wild boar came into view—small, maybe a meter long, snuffling at roots. Goblinor pointed to a gnarled oak. "Hide there. When I chase it your way, smash it with the stick. Hard. Got it?"
"Got it, got it!" Goblar ducked behind the tree, fingers drumming nervously on wood.
Goblinor circled the boar, crouching low. The creature's ears twitched; it sensed danger. Now. He burst from the underbrush with a guttural roar, arms flailing. The boar panicked, bolting straight toward Goblar's hiding spot.
"NOW!" Goblinor shouted.
Goblar swung too early. The branch connected with the boar's flank, not its skull, but the blow still staggered the creature. Its pace faltered, just long enough for Goblinor to close the gap. He raised his own branch, Critical Strike flaring—Level 5—and brought it down like a warhammer.
The crack of bone and flesh was sickening. The boar's scream cut off as a splintered branch impaled its throat, blood pooling into the dirt. Goblar stared, mouth agape. They'd just taken down a boar—alone. Back in the tribe, hunts required a dozen goblins, half of them returning missing limbs.
Goblinor ignored the awe on Goblar's face. He knelt beside the corpse, stomach growling, but paused at the sight of a glimmering black shard embedded near the heart: a Magic Crystal.
[Item: Tier 1 Magic Crystal]
[Effect: Forges weapons, fuels formations… 10 crystals unlock next simulation.]
Ten crystals for a simulation. Manageable. He pried it free, pocketing the warm shard, then tore a hindleg from the boar, tossing it to Goblar. The smaller goblin lunged to grab it, but Goblinor yanked it back.
"Not like that." He shoved the meat into Goblar's hands gently, though his tone was firm. "Take it nice. No grabbing. Got it?"
Goblar nodded, cheeks already stuffed, meat juices dribbling down his chin. Goblinor rolled his eyes but said nothing—manners were a luxury they couldn't afford yet. He tore into the boar's torso, ravenous. The meat was gamey, but his body craved it, muscles soaking in the raw energy.
By the time they'd eaten, only a skeleton remained. Goblinor wiped his mouth, eyeing Goblar's distended belly. This one eats like a Troll. Maybe he's got potential.
"Let's head back," he said, rising. "Quietly. And if you mention the crystal—"
"I won't! I won't!" Goblar babbled, still clutching a bone.
But back at the camp, chaos awaited. The Troll's cave rumbled with fury, a thunderous roar shaking the ground. Goblinor shoved Goblar into a shadowed crevice, peering around a boulder as the Troll emerged, massive frame hunched, fists clenched.
"WORTHLESS FILTH!" the Troll boomed, voice echoing off the cave walls. He stomped toward a cluster of cowering goblins, snatching the smallest one—barely a week old—by its spindly arm. "NOT ENOUGH MEAT! YOU'LL END LIKE THIS!"
The Troll's fist came down in a blur. The goblin vanished into a bloody pulp, screams cut short. Goblinor flinched, stomach churning. The Troll's strength was staggering—far beyond his simulation projections. This wasn't just a higher-tier monster; this was a walking tank.
"NEXT TIME, BRING MORE OR JOIN HIM!" the Troll snarled, kicking the corpse into the dirt. Goblins scrambled away, whimpering.
Goblinor clenched his fists. The Troll's eyes—cold, calculating—lingered on the crowd, as if searching for a next victim. He's not just hungry. He's enjoying this.
As the Troll retreated to his cave, Goblinor pulled Goblar from hiding, mind racing. The simulation had shown a weak Troll, but reality was different. This creature was a nightmare, and Goblinor was still just a Level 5 goblin—strong for his kind, but a gnat to the Troll.
"Come on," he hissed, dragging Goblar toward the forest. "We hunt again. More crystals. Faster."
Goblar didn't protest. The terror in his eyes mirrored Goblinor's own thoughts: survive now, or become Troll food. And survival meant one thing: grow stronger, faster than the Troll's rising appetite.
The first Magic Crystal burned in Goblinor's pocket, a promise of progress. He'd need nine more for another simulation, but with Goblar's help—and his newfound strength—maybe the next hunt wouldn't just feed them.
Maybe it would arm them.