The next day, one of my traps had finally caught something.
Some kind of rabbit.
But not the kind I had known in my other life. This one was aggressive. Carnivorous.
Long fangs jutted from its trembling mouth, ready to rip. Its eyes were yellow, bloodshot, and its fur, speckled with black, seemed to vibrate with animal rage.
But it was hanging. By its hind legs.
The trap had caught it mid-jump, yanking it from the ground like a broken toy.
It was still struggling, but there was nothing it could do anymore.
Tied up. Twisted. Exposed.
Harmless.
I didn't kill it right away.
I set it aside, deliberately ignoring it.
Because I had something else to do.
Something more important.
I had to improve my kingdom.
My perimeter.
My zone of control.
My labyrinth of death.
So I added more traps.
More snares. Tensioned branches.
I stretched vines between trunks, narrowing the paths.
Forcing any creature to slow down. To hesitate.
I wove an invisible cage, a vegetal abyss ready to swallow intruders.
Every string, every knot, every rope… was a thought, a fear, a memory I refused to let die.
After a few hours, my body cracked.
The stress. The pain. The exhaustion.
It all blurred together.
My muscles trembled, my arms burned. I hurt down to my teeth.
But I had finished.
I returned to the trap.
The rabbit still hung there, twitching pathetically. It had stopped screaming, but its eyes still stared at me. Full of hatred. Fear. Pain.
I killed it.
Not cruelly, but without mercy either. One quick blow. Its neck snapped.
Then I laid it on the ground.
A crack behind me. Light. Sharp. My heart jumped.
I spun around, mouth open, fangs ready.
But there was nothing. Just… my own breathing.
And this damn world, driving me insane.
And I looked at its body.
Twisted. Deformed by the rope.
Warm blood still dripped from its filthy-fanged mouth.
I swallowed.
And I bit.
Not out of hunger.
Not for taste.
Out of necessity.
The flesh gave way under my teeth.
Warm.
Soft.
Almost spongy.
A mix of fiber and blood, of nerves and fat.
The taste hit me like a punch.
It was vile.
Acrid. Metallic.
A warm sludge full of death.
It was nothing like cooked meat, nothing like the memory of cafeteria stew, or the meals I shared in my other life.
It was alive. Too alive.
I gagged immediately.
My jaw clenched. My eyes blurred. I had to shut them not to puke.
But I kept going.
I chewed.
Slowly.
Like an automaton.
Because I knew I had to get used to it.
Because this world wouldn't give me anything more palatable.
Because inside me… something was screaming to go on, even as my mind recoiled in horror.
I drank too. The blood. Burning. Sticky.
It slid over my lips, seeped down my throat.
And right then… I felt like I was drinking shame itself.
My stomach churned.
My guts clenched.
But this body… this body didn't care.
This body accepted it.
This body even craved that warmth, that liquid strength, that taste of raw life.
And that's when I understood.
It wasn't that I had become a beast.
It was worse.
I was getting used to it.
And that… That terrified me.
But I didn't cry.
I didn't fall to my knees.
I didn't beg the gods, or the memories.
I kept chewing.
Swallowing.
Because I had made a choice.
And that choice had a taste.
The taste of a carnivorous rabbit's lukewarm blood.
And the fear I felt… was fading.
I stayed there, sitting in the damp leaves, lips sticky, fingers red to the palms. My belly was full, but my soul… cracked.
I felt filthy, drained, reversed. Like I'd chewed off a piece of myself along with that damn carcass.
And then…
I felt it.
The violet light.
First a shiver. Gentle. Almost pleasant, like the breath of a fire that doesn't burn.
Then it appeared.
Rising from the still-warm corpse.
An ethereal mist, soft, fluid. It danced between the stained fur, slithered among the twisted fangs, then rose… Toward me.
And I didn't move.
I didn't want that thing.
Not yet.
Not like this.
But it entered anyway.
Through my pores. My eyes. My breath.
It entered me.
Without violence.
Without warning.
As if it had always known it would end up there.
And then I felt it inside me.
Not like warmth.
Not like a shock.
Like an obvious truth.
Something shifted. Moved.
Something I didn't yet understand.
But that now belonged to me.
My nerves stopped trembling.
My breath calmed.
My jaw unclenched.
The taste of blood didn't change.
But it became bearable.
And that's when I understood.
This world was changing me.
Not just physically.
Not just through pain, or hunger.
But through the rules it imposed on me.
Eat to survive. Drink to exist. Kill to evolve.
And each time I did it… it gave me a bit more.
A bit more strength.
A bit more resilience.
A bit more… something.
But at what cost?
I looked at my hands.
Stained with flesh, with blood, with congealed fear.
Then I looked at what was left of the rabbit.
And I didn't feel much anymore.
Just… a need.
A need to keep going.
A need to secure what I had built.
A need to set more traps.
To control.
Because that light…
I wanted it again.
So, without thinking, I cut up the remains of the rabbit.
I took pieces — the freshest, the bloodiest — and placed them on my traps.
Bits of flesh laid out like prayers.
Bait.
And once it was done… I ran back to my tree.
The one I now called "my throne."
I climbed. Tied myself in. Lay down.
The still-warm blood ran over my tongue.
But this time… I didn't grimace.
I closed my eyes.
And despite the paranoia.
Despite the world.
Despite myself…
I slept.
Not like a child.
Not like a man.
Not like a beast.
I slept like something becoming something else.
And that night… I dreamed.
Not of a memory.
Not of a monster.
Not of regret.
I dreamed of a silhouette.
A being. Motionless.
No face. No voice I recognized.
Just a white form, pure, naked, too smooth to be human, too neutral to be divine.
No wings. No horns.
No golden breasts or celestial gaze like in the isekai of my dreams.
Nothing.
Just… presence.
And yet, I knew.
This being was divine. Not by its features. By what it emanated.
A shiver. An inevitability.
And then, it spoke.
Its voice wasn't deep. Nor gentle.
It was mechanical.
A cold whisper, emotionless.
Like an automated system. A distant echo.
"Evolution: Cunning Goblin."
And then… nothing more.
No image. No sound.
I fell again.
Into the bottomless dark of sleep.
The next day, it was the light that woke me, as always. But this time… something was different.
I felt it immediately.
My skin.
It was duller.
Less vibrant. Less shiny.
Almost grayish, like dead leaves.
I ran my hand over it.
It was still warm. Alive.
But it blended into shadows more easily.
My breath was the same.
My muscles… still sore from yesterday.
But somewhere, deep in my skull, something clicked differently.
A kind of sixth sense.
Not a vision.
Not a sound.
An alert.
A heightened instinct.
Like I could… sense threats.
Just a second before.
Not a premonition.
But a feeling.
A mental vibration, imperceptible, like a sigh between thoughts.
And then I remembered.
The dream.
The white being.
The word.
Cunning Goblin.
I had evolved.
Not like a beast that grows.
Not like a creature that sheds its skin.
But like a mind sharpening its blade.
This skill… I didn't know how to use it yet.
I didn't even know if it had a name.
But it existed.
It was there.
Lurking behind my thoughts.
Silent. Discreet.
Like a trap I'd set… inside myself.
And that day, for the first time since I was born into this deformed body, I caught myself smiling.
Briefly.
Strangely… sincerely.
But I had to stay alert.
That instinct, that kind of sixth sense… It was useful, sure. But it was weak.
A first evolution. Gained too easily.
So I knew.
It wasn't worth much.
Just a foundation.
A base.
The first stone of a long, muddy, sharp path.
A cunning goblin.
I repeated it in my head.
A fucking cunning goblin.
NOT A HERO WITH A HOLY SWORD.
NOT A DRAGON SLAYER WITH A FLAMBOYANT AURA.
No.
A fucking goblin.
And not even a strong one.
Not even a fast one.
Not even one with OP stats or a secret skill that makes heads explode by thought.
Just a goblin. Weak. Filthy. Cunning.
FUCK THIS SHITTY WORLD.
FUCK THIS SHITTY GOD.
Who does that white thing think it is?
That cold mannequin, faceless, heartless?
That thing that whispers in your dreams like a botched OS update?
Its tone. Its face. Everything rang false.
WHERE WAS MY WAIFU GODDESS?
WHERE WAS MY COMFORT, DAMMIT?
A golden gaze. A soft hand. A damn reward after all this, right? Just a bit of warmth. Of dream. Of magic.
No.
Nothing.
Just that.
Cunning goblin.
I felt my fists clench, my claws digging into my palms.
I wanted to scream.
I wanted to hit something.
But all I had… was my breath, my rage, my loneliness.
And this world.
This fucking world, shitting on me every time I wake up.
So I spat on the ground. Swallowed my rage. And I exhaled. Long and slow.
Then I looked up.
Not toward the sky.
Not toward a god.
Toward my traps.
Because here… I couldn't get revenge. But I could improve.
And if this world wanted to make me a cunning goblin, then I'd become the most cunning motherfucker on this whole damned continent.