Satou's scream came out as a high-pitched, garbled squeak that didn't sound human at all. It echoed through the small cave like the cry of a frightened animal. He tried to move his hands, but they felt tiny and weak, flailing around uselessly. Panic flooded through him as the realization set in — something was terribly wrong.
His voice.
It wasn't his voice. It was gibberish.
His heart pounded so hard it felt like his little chest might burst. His breaths came in quick, uneven gasps as he struggled to make sense of what was happening.
"What the—?!" he tried to say, but all that escaped his lips were confused gurgles and squeaks. The sound made him go still.
Slowly, he looked down at himself — and nearly fainted.
Tiny green hands. Clawed fingers. Stubby legs. A round belly. His entire body was the size of a toddler's.
The cave around him was dimly lit by glowing moss clinging to the walls. Water dripped from the ceiling, each drop echoing in the stillness. The air smelled of damp earth and old stone — so musty it made his little nose wrinkle.
"No, no, no — this can't be happening!" he thought. But no matter how hard he tried to speak, only nonsense came out.
When he turned his head, his heart lurched again. Lying beside him was another baby goblin — just as small, just as green — its tiny arms flailing helplessly in the air. Its big yellow eyes blinked at him in confusion before it burst into a shrill cry.
Satou went still.
That sound confirmed his worst fear.
He was a goblin.
The weakest, most disposable race in every fantasy game and isekai novel ever written. The kind that gets killed in the first chapter.
"Noooooo! I don't want to be a goblin! There were other races — why does it have to be a goblin?!" he screamed internally, though all that came out was more frantic gibberish.
He flailed his little arms in frustration, kicking his stubby legs like an angry toddler in the middle of a tantrum. To any outside observer, he probably looked adorable.
"Even if I get out of here, every other species will kill me on sight," he groaned, the thought deflating into a sad, squeaky sigh.
He looked around the cave again. Several other baby goblins were curled up in nests of dried grass, sleeping peacefully. Their soft, steady breathing filled the space with an odd calm that clashed completely with the storm inside his head. The air carried a faint metallic scent that made his stomach turn.
Then — footsteps. Slow and uneven, dragging through the dirt.
An old goblin emerged from the shadows, hunched low and leaning on a gnarled wooden stick. His beard was long and white, brushing against the ground as he shuffled forward. His skin was wrinkled like dried leather, and his yellow eyes caught the faint glow of the moss as he moved between the sleeping infants.
When he reached Satou, he stopped. His gaze lingered — longer than expected — eyes narrowing slightly.
Then he turned toward the massive goblin standing guard at the cave entrance and spoke. "Shofh sjurirj sudhhrj shhudjd," he said, his voice low and raspy.
Satou blinked. "What language is that?!"
He didn't understand a single word. But before panic could fully take hold, a familiar voice rang out inside his head — cold and mechanical.
[Skill Acquired: Goblin Translation]
"Wait — it's that voice again! Hello? Can you hear me? I need help getting out of here!" Satou cried out, his tiny voice trembling.
[Activating Skill: Goblin Translation]
"Hey! Are you listening?! I need help!" he cried again — not realizing he was actually speaking aloud this time.
To him, it still sounded like gibberish. But the old goblin suddenly stopped walking and turned around, his pointed ears twitching.
He shuffled back toward Satou and bent down, his bony hand lifting the tiny green baby off the ground. "This one is lively," the old goblin muttered, his tone almost amused. "The others are all still asleep."
Satou's eyes went wide.
'Wait — I can understand him now. Is that the Goblin Translation skill?'
He thought it — but his mouth still spat out pure gibberish.
The old goblin chuckled softly, the corners of his wrinkled mouth curling upward. His cold, rough hand pressed against Satou's forehead. "With the energy this one has... I believe it. The mark is on his forehead. He could be the one from the prophecy — the Goblin God we've waited centuries for," he said, his voice hushed with something like reverence.
Satou blinked rapidly. 'Goblin God? What is he talking about? And get your hands off my face!'
He shoved at the old goblin's hand with both arms. His tiny fists barely reached his own chin. To the old goblin, it looked like playful squirming.
"Not yet, child," the old goblin said gently, laying him back down. "Perhaps in three days, after the special selection — if you survive it."
Satou's heart stopped. 'Survive? As in — if I don't, I die?! Hey! What is the special selection?! Talk to me!'
But all the old goblin heard was excited baby babble. His faint smile returned. "I'm sorry, little one. I have matters to attend to."
He turned toward the cave entrance and addressed the hulking goblin standing watch. "Let no one inside. Guard against any creature that approaches — humans especially."
"Yes, sir," the giant goblin replied, striking a fist against his chest.
The old goblin nodded once and disappeared into the tunnel.
Satou stared at the dark passage he'd vanished into.
"Hey! Come back! What do you mean by 'special selection'?!" he screamed, his little voice bouncing off the damp stone walls.
The giant goblin didn't move. His glowing yellow eyes settled on Satou and stayed there — quiet, unreadable, like he was deciding whether a squeaking baby was worth his attention.
Minutes passed. Satou kept yelling until his voice faded into tired, broken squeals. His energy drained faster than he expected. His eyelids grew heavy despite everything his mind was screaming.
"No — I'm not done — I need answers—" he mumbled, fighting it.
His small body didn't care. His eyes fluttered shut, his breathing evened out, and within seconds he was fast asleep in his nest of straw and moss — tiny face still twisted in an expression of pure disbelief.