Day five of goblin life.
I woke up to the sound of someone getting dropkicked into a pile of rocks.
It was Pibbit. Again. Poor dude.
I stretched my stubby goblin limbs and opened my system menu.
[EXP: 305/500]
[Skills: None (Pregnancy Count: 0/1)]
Still no skills. Still one horrible requirement.
At this point, I figured maybe it was time to research. You know, learn how goblins around here do the whole "mate" thing. Not because I was planning to do it anytime soon — gods no — but because the system clearly wasn't going away, and if I was gonna survive this brain-damaged green hellhole, I needed intel.
So I did what any intelligent reborn protagonist would do.
I eavesdropped.
And let me tell you something.
Goblin courtship rituals are an actual war crime.
It started when a goblin named Bogg tried to impress a goblin lady by throwing a dead squirrel at her feet.
"Hey Gruga, me kill rat-thing for you. Make babies now?"
She punched him so hard he spun like a Beyblade.
"Me not like rat! Me like frog meat!"
Bogg crawled away with a bloody nose, muttering, "Okay, me find frog then…"
And that… was apparently how romance worked here.
Step 1: Kill something ugly.
Step 2: Throw it at your crush.
Step 3: Hope they don't beat you to death.
If they don't, it means you're now husband and wife.
…I'm gonna die here.
I watched as another goblin presented a shiny rock to a girl goblin. She sniffed it. Licked it. Nodded.
Boom. Married.
Another one farted in a girl's face and got immediately decked into a ditch.
Zero tolerance. Respect.
I sighed and flopped onto a mossy log.
[Quest Complete: Observe Goblin Mating Ritual. +50 EXP]
Great.
[EXP: 355/500]
Still no skills.
This system… this goddamn system… only lets me unlock skills if I knock someone up. And to do that, I apparently have to start by killing a frog or stealing a shiny rock.
And I'm five days old.
I swear to whatever gods exist, if I ever meet the cosmic being that assigned me this system, I'm throwing hands.
Then, as if the universe wanted to bully me harder, Ma Grugga waddled over holding a fat, warty frog.
"Ah, Gob. You strong baby now. Tomorrow, goblin girl pick husband for Big New Year Baby Bash."
I choked on air.
Big New Year Baby Bash?
"Many strong goblin girl. Maybe one pick you, eh? Good for makin' strong babies."
She gave me a thumbs up with a hand missing two fingers.
I think my soul left my body for a second.
And that's when I realized—
I'm on a timer.
If a goblin girl picks me tomorrow, and I somehow survive, the system might count it. I might finally get a skill.
But also, I might die.
Either way… I was doomed.