The world began in darkness.
It was not the cold, lifeless void of death—but something thick, warm, almost womb-like. A heartbeat. A pulse. Then, a tear.
A thin, membranous sac split open with a wet slurp, and something small and sinewy spilt onto the clammy cavern floor. Slime clung to his skin, his limbs trembling as they first touched the earth.
Eyes blinked open—milky, unfocused at first. Sounds trickled in: the skittering of clawed feet, the mewling of newborns, the distant rumble of something older, deeper.
He didn't know his name. He didn't know anything.
But he knew this:
He was hungry.
---
The hatchery was alive with movement—dozens of other goblin spawn crawling, wailing, slipping from their own sacs in confusion. Most writhed aimlessly, clinging to instinct.
But not him.
Something ancient stirred behind his yellowing eyes. Something that watched. That calculated.
His stomach gnawed at itself. The scent of blood… weak… fresh… near.
He turned.
One of the hatchlings had failed to stand properly. It lay twitching, barely breathing. Pitiful.
His sharp teeth clamped down before thought even formed. Blood flooded his mouth, and with it—a pulse of power.
> [You have consumed a Lesser Goblin.]
[Basic Strength +1. Basic Endurance +1.]
The world sharpened. Limbs solidified. A primal fire surged through his veins.
More.
He lunged again. Another goblin. Then another. He tore and devoured with vicious precision. Each body was fuel. Each bite gave him something new.
> [You have consumed a Lesser Goblin.]
[Basic Agility +1. Primitive Cognitive Function awakened.]
He began to understand.
He was levelling. Evolving.
And the others? They were only food.
---
Within hours, the cavern reeked of blood and silence. Only one hatchling remained—him.
Now standing taller than his kin, his eyes gleamed with clarity. He flexed his fingers, now tipped with hardened claws. Primitive no more.
But the hunger persisted.
Deeper in the tunnels, snarls echoed. Adult goblins. Older. Stronger.
He would need to adapt again.
---
A crude campfire flickered in the wider tunnels where adult goblins rested. One of them—a Goblin Warrior—noticed the hatchling emerge.
It stood upright. Confident.
The warrior bared his fangs. "Bold little runt. Think you're somethin' special?"
The answer came in silence—a blur of motion.
The runt was on him in an instant, clawing, biting, dodging every wild swing of the club. The warrior got one hit in—a hard crack against the hatchling's ribs.
Pain. But not hesitation.
The runt latched on, ripping the warrior's throat with animal fury. Blood gushed. The stronger fell.
The stronger became meat.
> [You have consumed a Goblin Warrior.]
[Basic Strength +3. Basic Speed +2.]
[Skill Gained: Enhanced Instincts (Passive).]
He stood taller. Wounds healed mid-motion. His eyes shone with intent.
He wasn't evolving by accident.
He was becoming something else.
---
Time slipped by in bloody increments.
He fed. On scouts. On alchemists. On elders. Even on an orc who had wandered too deep.
> [You have consumed an Orc.]
[Strength +5. Toughness +4.]
[Trait Gained: Racial Mutation – Orc Hybridization.]
[Racial Adaptation 34%...]
His skin darkened. His jaw widened. His limbs thickened into something beyond goblin.
And his mind? It no longer wandered in instinct—it planned.
He made traps. He studied patrol routes. He watched.
Then, he began to learn words—carved symbols on cave walls, scattered tomes lost to goblin recklessness.
He was no longer one of them.
He was a Devourer.
Not a title. A truth.
And soon, the world would have to reckon with it.
---
Far beyond the nest, the world shook. The Demon Lord stirred, his awakening throwing the balance of the realm into disarray. Empires braced for war, and heroes sharpened their blades.
But none of them knew of the rising shadow beneath their feet.
Not yet.
Because in the forgotten cracks of the earth, a monster was being born.
Not forged in fire.
But in flesh, blood, and hunger.
And when he emerged from the dark…
He would devour the very fate of the world.
---
Excellent idea—ending Chapter 40 with a flash-forward or a prophetic vision is a powerful way to tease the goblin's future fate while heightening intrigue. Below is a rewritten ending scene with a cinematic, chilling cliffhanger that shows the goblin's monstrous evolved form and his death scene, without revealing how or when it happens.
---
[Final Scene – Vision of the Future]
The Devourer sat atop a throne of bones, deep within a fortress carved from the spines of the fallen. His body was unrecognizable—hulking, monstrous. No longer goblin, no longer orc, but something far more dreadful. Scales lined his back. Wings, tattered but vast, twitched in the stale air. A jagged crown of flesh and bone curled around his horned skull.
Below him, armies knelt—beasts, monsters, even men. Their eyes were vacant, hollow. Puppets are bound to a will, not their own.
And yet…
In the silence, something pierced the veil.
A blade.
Bathed in blinding flame.
It tore through his chest.
The monster—once a goblin—staggered back, eyes wide, not with fear… but clarity. As if in that dying moment, he remembered who he once was.
A whimper escaped his throat.
"…H-hungry…"
And then—
Oblivion.
---
> [Vision Ends]
Back in the birthing cavern, the newborn Devourer stirred, unaware of what he would become.
Or how he would die.
But fate had already begun its cruel feast.